Meanwhile, Jack Treedy had come along with his mum and the eldest of his younger sisters. The three of them stood on the edge of the snowy green, staring up into greyskies as they watched for any sign of an approaching aeroplane.
Sheila went to join them, stamping her feet and banging her gloved hands together to keep warm. ‘Brr,’ she moaned, ‘it’s bloomin’ perishing out here. When will this snow ever stop?’
Mrs Treedy shivered. ‘I thought it was ever so romantic at first, watching the snow come down at Christmas,’ she admitted. ‘Now it’s miserable. Feels like we’re living at the North Pole.’
‘How are the kiddies?’ Sheila couldn’t help wondering how on earth Mrs Treedy had coped for the past few weeks with so many mouths to feed and the village shop closed due to the snow.
Not that she’d closed the shop lightly. The shelves had stood empty day after day, with no supplies getting through from beyond the village, and almost no local fresh produce worth selling, thanks to the low temperatures.
Her sister had insisted on staying in the little flat above the shop though, much to Sheila’s concern, insisting she would be safe enough on her own.
‘Cold and hungry, mostly,’ the widow said, a little sharply, and then caught Sheila’s eye. ‘Not that I’m complaining,’ she added. ‘We’re all in the same boat, aren’t we? But it’s hard to explain to the young’uns why they keep having to miss out on a hot meal, especially in such cold weather, and with the house so damp … I’ll be glad of this food drop, I can tell you. My soups are getting a bit thin, and we’ve had no flour for bread in weeks.’
‘Oh, love.’ Sheila gave the woman a hug, her heart squeezed in pain. ‘You should have told me, I would have broughtsomething down for you.’ Though they’d not been in much better shape at the farm, apart from having fresh eggs, thanks to the chickens being housed in the kitchen porch now and making a fine old mess in there too.
‘There it is!’ Jack shouted, pointing up into the grey skies, where a small black dot could be seen steadily approaching.
‘Gawd … I never thought I’d live to see the day when I was glad to have a plane drop something on me, I can tell you.’ Sheila glanced around for Joe. ‘We think this is the plane coming now,’ she called to him. ‘Though I daresay we’ll need a hand carrying everything back to the shop.’
‘I’ll organise a line,’ Joe told her.
Sure enough, the aeroplane dropped lower as it approached, and moments later, a large, bulky package strapped together with cords was ejected and came floating down towards them on a parachute. Many villagers had come out to see this astonishing spectacle, some applauding with relief, others shaking their head in amazement. Despite the parachute, the gigantic package landed with one heck of a thump and was dragged a few feet through the snow before stopping.
The men ran forward with spades, digging out a clear path to the package, and soon cut the ties that bound it together, boxes spilling out at once. Under Joe’s guidance, the villagers formed a straggling human chain between the green and the village shop, and Sheila and Margaret found themselves directing people where to place each food parcel in the shop.
Soon, the tiny premises was crowded with boxes and crates, most labelled, but some not. Jack Treedy found a crowbar and began opening the unmarked crates, shouting out the contents to Margaret, who kept a careful note of them.
There were dried goods, flour and sugar, tea and coffee, large pallets of tinned meat, fruit and condensed milk, plus oils for cooking, dried herbs and spices, a few sacks of animal feed, and an impressive pack of medical supplies to cover most eventualities. There were also lengthy instructions on contents and distribution protocols, thankfully, that were passed to Sheila for her perusal.
During all this commotion, Bernie turned up, riding a horse through the gleaming tunnel of snow dug out in front of the shop by Joe’s tractor. Everyone stared as he dismounted outside the shop, looped the reins over a protruding post, and sauntered into the shop in the manner of a cowboy from a Western, complete with a wide-brimmed leather hat.
‘Blimey, what in the name of …’ Sheila gawped. ‘I didn’t know you had a horse, Bernie. Where on earth did he come from?’
‘It’s a she. And I borrowed her from my neighbour. Heard about the food drop and saw the plane coming in. Thought you might need a hand.’ Removing his hat, he nodded to everyone else. ‘Good afternoon, folks. Right, Sheila, where can I be useful?’
Gradually, the parcels were distributed to those in need, with some set aside for collection for outlying homes as soon as the road through Porthcurno could be cleared. One of the villagers mentioned an elderly widow living half a mile outside the village, who’d told a neighbour a few days before that she was running low on fuel as well as food. Joe took the tractor and used the scoop to push his way through the snow, carrying a supply of logs as well as emergency food supplies for the old lady. While this was going on, Sheilaturned on the wireless she’d installed in the back room of the shop and turned it up so they could all listen. It cheered up the villagers no end to hear a few popular tunes on the radio while they were working.
Eventually, it grew dark, and the crowds began to disperse. Even Bernie had finally ridden home on his horse, cradling supplies for himself and his neighbours, and wishing them all a pleasant evening.
Mrs Treedy pulled Sheila aside. ‘I wanted a word, if you can spare a moment,’ she said, looking worried. ‘Do you remember I told you about Jack wanting to go to Australia?’
‘How could I forget? Silly boy, I hope he’s put that nonsense out of his head.’
But the widow pulled a face. ‘No, he’s more serious than ever. I think it’s this snow … He says Britain’s more like Siberia now. He’s been reading about all the sunshine and lovely beaches down under. He’s applied for a passport too, and he’s been working a few days a week on a farm, saving up for his boat ticket as soon as he’s old enough to move there. Oh, I don’t know what I’ll do if our Jack leaves us. It’s the other side of the world. I’d never see him again.’ There were tears in her eyes.
Sheila didn’t know what to say. If the young man was intent on emigrating to Australia, there wasn’t much anyone could do about it. But she could hardly say that to Mrs Treedy, who was beside herself. ‘Would it help if I asked Joe to have a word with him?’ she asked uncertainly. ‘He might listen to a man, where he ignores us ladies.’
Mrs Treedy also looked doubtful. ‘I don’t know. If you ask me, I think Jack’s bewitched. He barely even mentioned Australia a year ago … Now it’s all he can talk about.’ Shewiped away a tear. ‘He acts tough. But he’s still just a boy at heart. And I’m scared what might happen to him out there. It’s an awfully big country.’
The Land Girls came trooping into the shop, spades on their shoulders, looking cold and exhausted, as well they might after all their hard work. Caroline said bleakly, ‘We’d like to head back to the farm, if that’s all right, Mrs Newton? We’re bushed. Do you think we’ll be needed again?’
‘No, love, but leave one of them spades with me, just in case it comes in handy later.’ She watched the girls traipse off into the gathering dusk. ‘They’re such good girls,’ she told Mrs Treedy and Margaret, who was sorting out supplies for Violet up at the farm. ‘We were bloomin’ lucky to get a crew like that. Oh, we’ve lost a few girls over the years, changing jobs or leaving to get married. But Caroline … She’s a nice, hard-working girl. And she don’t chatter on all the time like some of them.’
Mrs Treedy didn’t appear to be listening, peering out of the window as her son ran after the three girls trudging up the snowy hill. ‘My Jack quite likes that new girl. Jamaican, isn’t she?’
‘No, from Liverpool. But her mother comes from Trinidad, if that’s what you mean.’
Mrs Treedy looked uncomfortable. ‘I haven’t spoken to her much. But Jack’s got a crush on the girl, if you ask me.’
