Craig put a lot of this stuff here when we first moved in. The tied-up bin bags probably needed throwing out years ago, along with the pile of old newspapers. I can’t resist peeking at them. One has an advert for a sale at Woolworths on the front, and I notice one of the papers is dated around the time we got married. I wonder if our wedding photo appeared in there. Even though it is getting colder in here, and I am eager to get into the warmth, I stop for a moment and search through the newspaper until I find the marriage, birth and death announcements. I gasp when I spot a photo of Craig and I looking out from the page.
Craig must have kept the paper in here for safekeeping, as he was always pottering about in this shed. I never realised he was so caring, and this shocks me. Maybe there was a kinder side to him that Aunt Grace never saw.
But then, as I turn over the page, there is a big red pen mark ringing an advert for a 1983 Ford Capri. Ah, now that is more like Craig. I should never doubt Aunt Grace’s judgment, which makes me think of Tomas again and how different he is. This makes me miss him terribly. His face comes to the forefront of my mind, and I see his smile again. I picture us on the horse and carriage, how he laughed when he showed me the upside-down horse tail in the shopping centre and the feelings I had for him during the boat trip in the snow. I recall how he bought me ballet tickets and gave them to me at beautiful Prague Castle, how he was so knowledgeable about everything and how his friends and family were so welcoming. Then I make myself remember his face as I walked away and remind myself that he chose to stay there with Milena. I bring myself back down to earth with a bump and get on with collecting the logs to take indoors.
From the shed window, I can see the snow is coming down heavily now, and it is certainly not going to stop anytime soon. I rush back inside, where the weather forecast on the telly confirms that we are facing a further heavy snowfall. I turn it off, enough of that doom-mongering. Thank goodness I had a food shop delivery ordered for when I got home. The groceries won’t last for too long, but they will keep me going for a bit. I am also thankful for the multipack of crisps I threw in impulsively.
By lunchtime, I am starting to feel quite isolated. It is just me, the birds, and thankfully, the log fire, which is burning brightly. I pop the television back on for company. Perhaps I should listen to the latest update about how bad the weather is going to get after all.
Indeed, the news headlines are all about the snowstorm, and they are now talking about closing the airports in the next forty-eight hours.
They expect train travel will be disrupted by tomorrow evening as more snow is on its way. I am so grateful for my lovely, cosy home and the fact that I don’t need to go anywhere. I suppose I should be thankful that I arrived home when I did. It is far from the ideal time to travel. Luck was definitely on my side.
I sit and watch the snow falling outside from my living room window. It looks so beautiful from here. I almost wish there was someone I could make a snowman with, or throw snowballs at. Perhaps if Ken manages to get up the road, I’ll throw a snowball at him for some fun.
I can feel the draught coming straight through the window from outside, and I am glad that I have already planned on spending some of the inheritance on making the mill a little more energy efficient. It shouldn’t be long before I can get new windows fitted, and the draught will be a thing of the past, and this beautiful home can be restored for future generations.
I watch how the birds outside leave their imprints in the snow. I love how their little prints leave a trail behind them. But the snow is getting thicker now and the trails are being covered up almost as soon as they make them.
By the next morning, I am practically snowed in. My onesie, with a thick dressing gown thrown over, keeps me nice and cosy as I get the fire going again. I throw on an extra log to get it burning to the maximum and listen to the sound of it crackling. But then I hear a louder noise that I can’t work out as I watch the embers fly through the fireplace. I hear the noise again and listen carefully. It sounds like a screech. I run outside to check where the noise is coming from in case an animal is in trouble in the snow. But it is like a mirage. I can’t believe what I am seeing. Ken is driving the post van and trying to make his way up the track. The van is skidding everywhere. What on earth is he doing? My post is not that important. I know he is committed to the Post Office and takes his job seriously, but surely delivering post in this weather and up this lethal track is going above and beyond.
The van nearly lands in the hedge before I see it start sliding backwards. Poor Ken, I will walk and fetch the mail from him; there really is no need for this. I search for my wellies but can’t find them. I realise I’ve left them out the back. The slippers in front of me that I throw on quickly get soaked through as I try to reach the van. I feel the cold of the snow biting at my toes as I trudge along and focus on walking without slipping. I don’t want to break anything out here as I am not convinced an ambulance driver would even be willing to come up this far now. Then, as I get closer to the van, I see that Ken is not alone.
I squint my eyes to get a closer look at the passenger. Surely, I am seeing things.
‘Tomas?’ I say. This is impossible. How on earth could Tomas be in a post van with Ken?
I know people can hallucinate from heatstroke, but I am beginning to think there is such a thing as snowstroke – my eyes must be deceiving me.
The post van door opens, and Tomas climbs out wearing a pair of wellies and carrying a plain black overnight bag. I watch in disbelief as he says thank you to Ken and taps his shoulder, as though he is some long-lost buddy.
‘What on earth…?’
‘Aren’t you going to say hello?’ says Tomas.
My heart beats so fast that I begin to feel dizzy. I can feel it pounding through my chest. A grin is spreading all over my face, but I am also shaking at the same time. What a state I am in!
Every muscle in my body feels as though it is trembling. I can’t quite believe this is happening. I am afraid to blink in case Tomas is gone when I open my eyes. How on earth did he find me in the middle of nowhere? Ken explains some of it.
‘I found your friend at the bottom of the road. He was trying to walk ’cause a taxi refused to bring him up here. I said I’d try to get him as close as I could in my van.’
I am so grateful to Ken for delivering him safely. What a kind thing to do.
‘Oh, my goodness, Ken. You’re an absolute legend. You risked driving up here in this weather to help a stranger. I really must write to the Post Office about you.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing.’
‘It is. You’re amazing, Ken. A true superstar. Thank you.’
I look at Tomas again in disbelief. ‘Well, this is more exciting than the usual post Ken brings me.’
I hold my hand up to my mouth and just stare at Tomas. ‘I just… Well, I don’t know what to say.’
Ken grins at me and gives me a wink, and then he turns the van around as the tyres desperately try to grip the road and he heads off back down the lane, leaving me standing there looking at Tomas with so many questions. Why did he not message me? Why did he not say goodbye before I left? Why is he even here? But, while I do have all these questions, as I stand there with soaking wet feet, freezing in the snow, I can’t help but feel a warmth spreading all over me as I look at the beautiful, gentle face that I have been missing since I last saw it.
‘I’m sorry, I’d have brought you flowers, but it’s all been a bit of a rush. I saw this when I got dropped off by the cab. It’s not quite the same thing, I know.’
I smile at the branch of mistletoe that Tomas hands me. He must have got it from the tree I always pick from down the road.
