by Leo McNeir
Anne reported on the horse’s condition, saying she was surprised that the water in the bucket wasn’t frozen. Ralph suggested that the proximity of half a ton of warm horse surrounded by bales of hay no doubt provided protection. It reminded him of the water tanks on Sally Ann and Thyrsis, both blanketed in fibreglass insulation, and he resolved to check and fill them to the brim as his first task after breakfast.
Marnie, who had remained silent during this exchange, took a look out of the cabin window and announced that she was going into hibernation. She would install herself in the office and go through her latest designs. Anne opted to do some reading for college in her attic room, though she agreed to continue her attempts at contacting Maurice Dekker at regular intervals.
*
While the water was flowing from the hosepipe into the tank on Sally Ann, Ralph leaned against the bow, peering into the tank with the light of a torch to check the level. He became aware of footsteps crunching through snow on the opposite bank and, glancing up, recognised Phil Greener trudging along in his overalls.
“Nice day for a stroll.”
Phil grimaced and looked up at the grey sky that threatened another snowfall.
“Yeah. Still, it’s got to be done. We’ve already got two locks damaged on my section and I’m worried about bank slippage the other side of Hanford.”
“Thank you for passing on my enquiry about Dekker to your colleagues at Braunston yesterday.”
“That’s okay, professor. Any luck?”
“Not so far. Look, can I get you a warm drink? You must be frozen.”
“Too much to do, thanks.”
“Then can I ask you something before you go? You said it was best to keep out of Dekker’s way, or words to that effect. What did you mean?”
Phil hesitated. “Well, he’s … I don’t know. He comes over as an arrogant kind of bloke, not your usual boater.”
“Is there such a thing as a usual boater?” Ralph said. “I don’t suppose anyone would consider me one, for example.”
“That’s true, nor Marnie either. But you talk to people. Everyone along here knows you and Marnie. This Dekker’s sort of secretive, seldom speaks to anyone, can’t be bothered with other people.”
“Perhaps he just needs some time to himself,” Ralph suggested. “Different people, different reasons for being here.”
“That’s true enough. But Dekker’s a complete mystery, rather a cold fish.”
Ralph smiled. “You’ll be one too if I keep you standing around any longer.”
*
Even a further fall of snow could not prevent the traditions of Glebe Farm from being upheld. Ralph left his study on Thyrsis mid-morning to trek through the spinney for the habitual coffee break. Anne had found some left-over mince pies in the freezer and was warming them up in the oven when Ralph kicked the snow from his shoes and walked into the office barn. He related his conversation with Phil Greener, which reminded Anne that she was due to make her morning attempt at phoning Dekker. Ralph offered to try his number, as Anne was occupied with important business.
He took out his mobile and pressed buttons and was surprised to hear ringing tone. He was more surprised when the connection was made.
“Yes?” A guarded voice.
“Is that Mr Dekker, Maurice Dekker?”
“Who is this?”
“My name is Lombard, Ralph Lombard. You don’t know me but – Hallo? Are you there? He hung up.”
Marnie picked up the office phone and dialled Dekker’s number. It rang several times before being answered.
“Poste restante, Mr Dekker,” Marnie announced at once. “Please don’t hang up. This is Marnie Walker in Knightly St John. You asked me to let you know when mail arrived for you. Remember? You gave me your card with this number.”
A pause. “I remember, of course. There’s mail for me, you say?”
“Two letters. They don’t appear to be junk mail.”
There was silence at the other end. Marnie waited.
“Do you have the letters?”
“Oh, no. They’re at the post office. They wouldn’t release them to anyone but you.”
“Conditions for travelling are not good.”
“No. The canal’s completely frozen down here, and the country roads are in a poor state with snow drifts and the like. Are your letters urgent? Perhaps Mr Appleton could forward them for you.”
Another silence. Eventually Dekker spoke.
“I will come for them.”
“Very well. I’ll tell the Appletons. Do you know when you’re coming?”
“Soon. I need to make some arrangements.” He spoke hesitantly as if unsure how he would proceed.
“Whereabouts are you?”
“I’m a short way north of Blisworth tunnel.”
“Look, I have to go out for some shopping today. I could fetch you from Blisworth. It’s not far and I have a four-wheel-drive car. I could take you back later.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Do you have a better plan? I don’t think you’ll be able to get a taxi, and it’s a long way to walk in these conditions.”
“You’re most kind. When should I expect you?”
*
At around twelve-thirty the Discovery turned in at the field gate and lumbered down the track towards Glebe Farm. The posts with their hanging lanterns were mostly still in place, and Marnie followed the route that Anne had marked out. Maurice Dekker sat beside her holding his letters. They had spoken very little since she picked him up at the bridge in Blisworth. Enveloped in his heavy Austrian coat and partly concealed under his black fedora, he was a forbidding companion.
“Nearly there, Mr Dekker. That’s our destination. You can see the rooftops though the trees.”
“It’s very good of you to offer me lunch.”
“Glad to help.”
Marnie turned a corner and brought the car to a halt inside a barn where three other cars were parked. Dekker spoke as they got out.
“There are many people here?”
“The Volvo belongs to my partner, Ralph Lombard, the Mini to my assistant, Anne Price. The car under the cover is an old MG from the thirties. I use it for running around, in the warmer months.”
She led the way to the office barn and indicated her desk.
“If you’d like to sit there to handle your correspondence, I’ll turn on the computer and you can deal with any replies. Make yourself at home.”
“Use your computer?” Dekker looked uncertain.
“If you want to. There’s a box of floppy disks just there. You can take one to keep copies of your work. Envelopes and stamps, top drawer. Help yourself.”
“This is most kind.”
“Well, I’m assuming you don’t have these facilities on your boat, and those letters might need answering. I’ll leave you to it for a short while.”
“You’re going somewhere?”
Marnie pointed through the window. “Just over there. We’re eating in that cottage. It’d be rather cramped for all of us on Sally Ann. Just come over when you’re ready.”
In the cottage Anne was stirring soup at the stove.
“Mm …” Marnie breathed in deeply and hung her coat up in the hall. “That smells wonderful! Is the table laid?”
“Not quite,” Anne looked round at her. “We don’t know if Willow and Ben are coming, whether there’ll be four of us or six. Ralph’s gone to invite them.”
Marnie bent down and adjusted the thermostat on the dining room radiator. As she stood up, Ralph came through the front door.
“Bloody cold out there! That wind’s getting up again. I wouldn’t be surprised if we had more snow.”
Marnie met him in the hall with a kiss.
“Four or six for lunch?”
Ralph frowned. “Four. Most definitely not six.”
“Oh?”
Anne called out from the kitchen. “The soup’s ready.” She put a lid on the pan, moved it over and turned off the c
ooker. “I’ll finish the table, then.”
Marnie spoke to Ralph. “Why did you put it like that?”
Anne’s head peeped out from the dining room. “Are we having wine or fruit juice?”
“Put out both, perhaps,” said Marnie. She turned back to Ralph.
He pondered her question. “When I asked if they’d join us for lunch, at first I thought Willow liked the idea. Then I mentioned Maurice Dekker, and that was it, down came a shutter. No thanks.”
“Perhaps she’d already got their lunch ready,” Marnie said.
Ralph shook his head. “They were sitting in the saloon. I think Ben had been reading to his mother. It looked like she was giving him a lesson.”
“Perhaps she was –‘
There was a knock on the door behind them. Ralph turned and opened it. He admitted Dekker into the hall, which was now becoming crowded. Marnie took his coat and they moved into the dining room.
“It’s just a light lunch.” She extended a hand towards the table. “Nothing very splendid.”
The table was draped in a pink and white gingham cloth, with placemats depicting canal scenes from a bygone age. At each setting was a soup bowl and the table was covered with dishes of ham, sliced chicken, a cheeseboard of white Cheshire, Jarlsberg and Cambozola, bowls of pickles, pots of mustard and horseradish. In the centre was a basket of hot crusty rolls, covered with a matching gingham napkin. As they took their places, Anne came in with the pan of soup and began ladling it into the bowls. Marnie excused herself quickly and returned with a dish of warm croutons.
“Please help yourself to whatever you’d like. It’s self-service.”
They were picking up soup spoons when Maurice Dekker clasped his hands together on the edge of the table and bowed his head.
“Is everything all right, Mr Dekker?” Marnie asked.
He looked up as if taken momentarily unawares. “I was going to say grace. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
They each put down their spoons and lowered their gaze, Marnie and Anne feeling self-conscious but trying not to show it.
“Benedictus benedicat per Iesu Christum domine nostrum. Amen,” Dekker murmured softly. After a brief pause he raised his head again. “ Thank you, and thank you for welcoming me to your table.”
“You’re most welcome,” said Marnie.
Ralph added, “I’ve always thought it was one of the best customs of the waterways life in modern times, the offering of hospitality to fellow travellers.”
“I hope by saying grace I didn’t embarrass anyone.”
“I was interested that you used the form spoken at my college in Oxford,” Ralph said. “Are you an academic yourself, may I ask?”
“I was at the London School of Economics,” said Dekker. “A different style of institution altogether.”
“The LSE?” Ralph’s interest was pricked. “Are you an economist?”
“I studied International Relations.”
Marnie was anxious that the conversation should not turn into a Glebe Farm version of High Table.
“Were you able to deal with your correspondence, Mr Dekker?”
“Thank you, yes. I’ve shut down your computer.”
“If you have any replies we can drop them in the post-box when I run you back to Blisworth. I was going to say that if you need to make any calls, you’re welcome to use the phone in the office.”
Dekker inclined his head with a smile that almost registered pain. They ate on in silence. Marnie stole the odd glance at Dekker, noticing how gaunt he looked. She wondered if he was naturally very thin or if he suffered from ill health. Her eyes met Anne’s. They were both thinking along the same lines. Neither wanted to comment. It was Ralph who expressed their thoughts.
“How are you managing on the boat in this weather? Running solo is hard enough work at the best of times, but in these conditions …”
Dekker looked towards the window. The view was of a compact walled courtyard garden, charming in the snow, with hanging bird feeders like small cages, their bars just wide enough to give access to tits and finches, robins and sparrows. Tiny flakes of snow were beginning to fall again.
“It’s a simple situation. My boat is stuck in the ice and I’m going nowhere.”
“Do you have enough food and supplies on board?” Marnie asked. “We can call in at a supermarket on the way back, if you like.”
“That would be helpful.”
Marnie looked across to the window. “We’d better go straight after lunch. That snow’s getting heavier.”
Dekker broke bread with his fingers. “Perhaps I could make one phone call before we go?”
Chapter 13
Snowball
On Sunday morning a westerly airstream carried the sound of church bells ringing like wind chimes down to Glebe Farm. It also brought with it flurries of snow that drifted around the cottages, barns and farmhouse. Over breakfast on Sally Ann a plan for the day was quickly put together. No-one would be leaving the complex that day. Ralph, Marnie and Anne opted to work on their various projects, but first they had practical tasks to accomplish.
Ralph announced that the wine cellar -- galley units on Sally Ann and Thyrsis – was well stocked, and the freezer, fridges and store cupboards were bulging. When Dolly attempted to climb into one of the food stores, Anne assured her there were provisions aplenty.
Donning their warmest apparel, all four residents ventured out to assess the state of the buildings. Armed with shovels, three of them began clearing the pathway through the spinney. Dolly retired to keep guard on Sally Ann.
“This is going to take all day,” Ralph complained.
“Aha!” Anne raised a finger. “Not necessarily.”
“How so, Holmes?” said Marnie. “And don’t say it’s –”
“But it is, my dear Watson. It is elementary. Watch.”
Anne bent down and made a snowball.
“Voilà!”
“So we clear the path by making snowballs and having a fight,” Ralph said. “You’re right. It won’t take us all day. We’ll be unconscious by lunchtime.”
Anne’s aim was true. Ralph ducked but the snowball hit him squarely on the head. Before he could retaliate Anne spoke quickly.
“Watch what I do.”
She made another snowball and began rolling it along the ground, backwards and forwards across the path. Soon it had grown to the size of a football. In minutes it was twice as big, and one part of the footpath was no longer snowbound..
“See? If we do this for long enough we can get the path reasonably clear in no time.”
“Assuming we can push the snow,” said Ralph. “And what do we do with such a huge lump of the stuff?”
“Oh, Ralph, I despair of you sometimes.” Anne shook her head. “I know you’re the world’s biggest brainbox, but there are times when I think you’re definitely from another planet.”
Ralph looked crestfallen. Marnie put an arm round his shoulders.
“Come on, darling, think. And here’s a clue: it could be abominable.”
“It could be what? Oh!” Enlightenment dawned. Ralph smiled broadly. “I get it. A snowman!”
Anne cheered. “Give the man a coconut! Or rather a carrot.”
“A carrot?” Ralph was looking bewildered again.
“Of course.” Marnie hugged him. “Think about it.”
“Carrots!” Anne exclaimed. “What about Poppy?”
*
Ben was searching every cranny in the stable barn, desperate to find a spade when Anne came slithering round the corner and his wish was granted. He eyed the shovel that she was carrying.
“Could I borrow that for a bit? The snow’s drifting in on Poppy. I’ve got to clear it out.”
Anne extended it to him. “Sure.”
“I’ll need to clean out her straw, too,” he said.
“I can help you. Shall I fill her manger with hay and fetch some fresh water?”
“That’d be great
.”
“Ben?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know much about horses, but doesn’t she need a blanket or something to keep her warm?”
Ben looked at Anne as if wondering whether to take the question seriously.
“She’s a workhorse, Anne, tough as old boots. She’s out in all weathers. Don’t worry about her.”
They bent to their tasks without speaking for a few minutes. When Anne filled the water bucket from the hose, she stood back and watched Poppy drinking.
Anne grinned. “She’s a noisier drinker than Dolly.”
Ben came over beside her and they watched the horse together.
Without preamble, Ben said quietly, “I like you, Anne.”
“That’s nice.”
“Do you like me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Do you, er, have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Would you –”
“How old are you, Ben?”
“I knew you’d say that.” He laughed.
“Can I ask you something, Ben?”
“All right.”
“That business yesterday about lunch, when Mr Dekker was here, why didn’t your mum want to come? Does she know him?”
Ben looked uneasy. “Dunno.”
“Did she say anything about it?”
“No.”
“Nothing at all?”
“She was quiet for a bit after Mr Ralph went off.”
Neither noticed that Willow had appeared beside the barn and was watching them together. They only became aware of her presence when Marnie and Ralph arrived on the scene and suggested they could all use a hot drink.
*
Anne observed that they all had pink noses when they sat in the office barn holding mugs of hot chocolate. She had found a box of Christmas biscuits at the back of the cupboard and declared it was high time they were eaten.
“We were sorry you weren’t able to join us for lunch yesterday,” Marnie said casually.