A Spell of Snow (2 page)

    
A slight sound in
the distance brought me out of the downward spiral. I looked up keenly,
listening. That had surely been one of the most familiar sounds of my life back
in Australia: a horse blowing through its nose. I couldn’t mistake it.

    
I struggled to my
feet and peered over the nearby hedge, scanning the white fields for a moving
shape, and talking to encourage the horse to know a human was near. It
whickered slightly, and then I saw it, halfway across the adjacent field. It
was bobbing its head; a sign of agitation.

    
I looked for a
break in the hedgerow, still talking to the horse. The wind whipped my words
away, and I wasn’t sure it heard me, but eventually I found a gate and
clambered over it. The horse turned its head fully towards me as I stumbled
across the snowy tussocks of grass in the field, and it took a few steps in my
direction, but it still seemed distressed, and when I reached it I patted its
neck, talking to it quietly in the way I’d always done with the most difficult
horses at the riding centre.

    
‘Come on now. It’s
all right. It’s all right,’ I said gently, and as the horse quieted I looked it
over as best I could in the reflected snow light. It was fully tacked up with
saddle and bridle, but it didn’t seem to be injured. I took hold of its reins
and persuaded it to walk a short distance. No limp. So where was its rider?
With the temperature plummeting I didn’t fancy their chances unless I could
find them.

    
We were in a
slight dip through which a tiny stream glimmered darkly amid the snow. I led
the horse along beside the stream, looking about me for any other darker
shapes. Having the horse for company made me feel strong and independent; more
like my old self. When we reached a point where the stream disappeared under
the turf I decided the horse was calm enough to be ridden, and mounted up
easily. Even from the horse’s back I could see nothing unusual, so I urged it
further up the hill. It ignored me and headed across the field. I squinted
against the falling snow, watching for anything resembling a human shape. When
the horse stopped and ducked its head I dismounted and stared at the mound in
front of me. Then I was scrabbling to clear the snow from a human form curled
up in the foetal position. It was a man – a boy, even, although it was hard to
tell in the black and white world of the field. I touched his face; it was
warm. I put an ear to his mouth; he was breathing. I sighed with relief, but
then I bit my lip. I had to get him – get us both – to somewhere warm, and
soon. There was no way of knowing how badly hurt he was, and it wasn’t as if I
could just go and summon help, as I had no idea where to look for it. I chafed
his icy hands and shook him slightly by the shoulders. ‘Can you hear me?’ I
said loudly. ‘I need to get you on to the horse. Can you move? Can you help me
to help you?’

    
Eventually there
was a groan from the recumbent body and then, ‘I don’t know if I can move. I
think I’ve broken something, and I’m so tired – I just want to sleep.’

    
There was
something about his voice that sent a frisson of familiarity through me, even as
I told him sternly, ‘You can’t go to sleep!’ I knew that much about
hypothermia. ‘Where do you live?’ I persisted. ‘I have your horse with me but I
can’t lift you.’

    
The boy tried to
move, but groaned loudly.

    
‘Where does it
hurt?’ I asked.

    
‘My ribs – and my
arm. And my head – I think I was knocked out for a while.’

    
‘But your legs are
all right? Come on then, you’ll have to grit your teeth through the pain and
I’ll help you up.’

    
It took us a
while, but at last he was standing, swaying with pain. With the help of a
nearby tree stump I struggled to help him onto the horse’s back. He slumped
forward as I squeezed myself on behind him and put my arms around him to keep
him safe. Something in me desperately wanted to keep him safe. Physical contact
only emphasised the odd sense that I knew him, somehow.

    
‘I need to know
where you live. Is it far?’

    
‘A couple of miles
up the hill,’ he mumbled in reply. ‘Sheep farm.’

    
‘Okay. Hold on
tight and I’ll try to keep it steady.’

    
This time when I
indicated to the horse that it should go uphill it didn’t hesitate and set off
at a fast walk that had the boy groaning again. Obviously it knew where to go
better than I did, and I just let it take us there.

    
There was no sign
of the snow easing off as we breasted the hill and headed across more fields –
now I saw sheep moving, slightly darker shapes among the surrounding white.

    
I strained my eyes
ahead for any sign of a light, and eventually I spotted a dim speck in the
distance. As we trudged on it grew steadily larger until it became recognisable
as a window and I could pick out the shape of a house around it. It was a
small, white-painted cottage with a slate roof surrounded by a few odd
outbuildings and enclosures. It must be the boy’s sheep-farm home.

    
The horse came to
a stop in a small yard in front of the house, and immediately the door burst
open and a solidly built woman ran out to meet us.

    
‘Edward? What’s
happened?’ she cried out, taking the horse by the halter and giving me a look
of confusion.

    
‘I’m all right,
Mam,’ the boy mumbled.

    
I dismounted
quickly. ‘I found the horse wandering on its own,’ I explained, ‘and then it
led me to him.’

    
The woman called
to the house and a girl of around my own age appeared, followed by two younger
children. The woman and the girl helped Edward down from the horse’s back, and
the younger boy, who I guessed was about ten, said, ‘I’ll take care of her,
Mam,’ and began leading the horse towards one of the outbuildings.

    
The woman nodded.
‘Well done, Tom. Now then, our Edward, let’s get you into the warm – and you,
too, dearie,’ she said, glancing at me. ‘You look chilled to the bone.’

    
Edward was borne
into the house, and I followed, feeling awkward and out of place. Still, it was
a relief to be in a warm room. There was a blazing open fire and two glowing
oil lamps giving it a comforting, cosy feel.

    
The woman and the
girl settled Edward onto a threadbare sofa near the fire and began to remove
his wet clothes. I stood in front of the fire shuddering until the older woman
said, ‘You sit yourself down, dearie, and get yourself warmed up. Vera, go and
get a towel and a blanket for –?’

    
‘Tilly.’

    
‘Well Tilly, I’m
Edie and this is Ruby,’ the woman said, before turning back to the youngest
girl, Vera. ‘Fetch a towel and blanket, and then bring in a bowl of that broth
– poor girl looks like she could do with it.’

    
I leaned back into
a chair and realized the extent of my weariness as my eyes closed. I became
aware of little more than the blurred sounds of the older woman giving orders
to Ruby, and Edward’s rumbles of protest as his arm was strapped up, the cut to
his head bathed and bandaged, and his many bruises examined carefully.

    
When Vera returned
I forced myself to move again and took off my coat, wrapped the blanket around
me and scrubbed at my hair with the towel. A few minutes later the girl
returned and handed me a steaming bowl. I cupped it in my hands and took a wary
spoonful of the contents. To my surprise it was meaty and delicious. It had
been hours since I’d eaten that slice of cheese on toast and I was very hungry.

    
I was just
scraping the bottom of the bowl when Edie stood up from the sofa and stretched
her back, watching me. ‘That’s it, that’ll warm your cockles, all right.’

    
She turned back to
Edward as Ruby covered him in blankets. ‘Well, we won’t be getting the doctor
out to you in this weather, our Edward, but I don’t think you’re mortally
wounded, for all you’re in a lot of pain. Cuts, bruises and broken ribs heal,
and I think that wrist’s just badly sprained. You’ll feel better once you’re
warmed up.’

    
The younger boy,
Tom, entered the room then. ‘Da’s on his way. I saw his lantern,’ he told Edie.

    
‘Thank the Lord
for that,’ the older woman said, seating herself on a hard-backed chair beside
the sofa. ‘We’ve had enough casualties for one night.’

    
‘Was Moll all
right?’ Ruby asked Tom.

    
He nodded. ‘She’s
fine, just a bit tired. I’ve settled her down with some hay.’

    
‘Now how did you
come to be out here in this weather, eh?’ Edie said, turning back to me. ‘And
all on your own.’

    
‘Oh, I… um, I got
the bus, and then I got lost.’

    
‘Caught the wrong
bus, you mean?’

    
I nodded;
unwilling to reveal the truth. ‘And then I heard the horse, and she led me to
your son.’

    
Edie nodded. ‘Well
I can’t tell you how glad I am that you did, dearie, because I doubt Ben
would’ve found him the way things are out there right now. Will there be anyone
worrying about you – looking for you?

    
‘There’s my aunt,
but –’

    
‘Poor woman,
she’ll be worried sick. Well, there’s nothing we can do tonight I’m afraid. You’ll
stay with us, and we’ll see how the weather is tomorrow.’

    
There was a bang
as the front door shut and then a tall, sturdy man, his clothing covered in
snow, entered the room, bringing an icy blast with him.

    
‘Moll’s in the
stable, is Edward…?’ He asked, and then stopped as he spotted the figure on the
sofa.

    
‘He’s all right,’
Edie said quickly. ‘He took a tumble and cracked a few ribs, but Tilly here
found Moll and rescued him.’

    
‘I’m sorry, Da,’
Edward said in a voice tinged with pain. ‘I didn’t expect the snow to come on
so badly, so fast.’

    
‘Aye well, I’m
that relieved to see you I’ll let you off,’ Ben said gruffly, and then turned
to me. ‘We’re much obliged, love. But what on earth were you doing out on your
own in this weather?’

    
I didn’t need to
respond, as Edie, Ruby, Vera and Tom were all too happy to fill him in on my
status as a temporarily lost girl. I was glad to stay silent; my eyes kept
trying to close and I felt as if I could sleep for a week. What was more, I
couldn’t rid myself of the sense that everything was somehow completely
surreal.

    
‘So where does
your aunt live?’ Ben asked.

    
‘In Nimbury, in
Jackson Street.’

    
‘You talk funny,’
Tom said suddenly.

    
‘I’m Australian,’
I said, immediately on the defensive. They were the ones who talked funny as
far as I was concerned. None of them sounded right.

    
‘You’re a long way
from home, then,’ Ben said. ‘Well, you can share our Ruby’s bed tonight, and
we’ll just take tomorrow as it comes.’

    
‘Take her
upstairs, Ruby,’ Edie said, as I struggled to keep my eyes open. ‘She’s dead on
her feet, poor love.’

    
I was glad to
follow Ruby up the stairs, but I could barely put one foot in front of another,
and I couldn’t work out why Ruby was carrying an oil lamp. My brain seemed to
be wrapped in cotton wool; nothing made sense, but I didn’t have the energy to
work it out.

    
The odd feeling
increased as Ruby led me into a small, icy bedroom into which two beds had been
squeezed, leaving little room for much else. She put down the oil lamp and
opened a battered chest of drawers, from which she drew a thick cotton
nightgown. ‘You can borrow this,’ she said. I took the garment numbly and sat
on the edge of the lumpy bed, watching in bemusement as she lit a candle stub
with a match.

    
‘You look awful,’
she said, staring at me. ‘You’d better get into bed and get warm.’ When she
left the room a moment later, taking the oil lamp with her, I shivered, and not
just with cold. Had there been a power cut because of the blizzard?

    
I undressed
quickly and donned the scratchy nightgown, plunging beneath the covers as
quickly as I could. Then I took another look at my mobile phone. The time read
10.10, but there was still no signal. I thrust it under my pillow and closed my
eyes at last.

‘Come on, sleepyhead,’ said a cheery voice beside me, and I
woke with a start, staring up with a complete lack of recognition at the woman
standing over the bed. ‘I think you badly needed that sleep,’ Edie said, while
the previous night’s events rushed back into my mind. ‘I don’t know how you managed
not to wake while the others were getting up, but what about some breakfast?
You get dressed and come down before it’s cold.’

    
I sat up. ‘How’s…
Edward?’

    
Edie smiled. ‘He’s
up and eating his breakfast. He’s very sore and no wonder, and his da’s going to
have to manage the farm without him, but he’s going to be all right, thanks to
you.’

    
When Edie headed
downstairs, I pulled my mobile phone out from under the pillow and held my
breath as I looked at the screen. I couldn’t believe it; still no signal, and
no messages either. I bit my lip and fought back slight wetness in my eyes
before throwing back the covers and stepping out of the bed onto a lino floor
that felt icy to my bare feet. The room was extremely chilly and I hurried out
of the nightgown and back into my school uniform, shivering all the while. Once
I was dressed I couldn’t resist taking a look outside, and I edged between the
beds to peer through a window covered in swirls of frost. I cleared a little of
the frost with my hand, and then watched through the small porthole I’d made as
Edward’s dad shuffled through snow that was well over his ankles towards an
enclosure where a few bedraggled sheep milled about.