‘Right, I’m off!’ She jangled the van keys.
‘Are you sure? Because I can go…’ Cam asked, once again looking out of the window.
But Molly held up her hands to curtail further discussion, leaving Cam sighing in defeat. She walked over to him and breathed in his familiar scent before kissing him on his cheek and waltzing towards the door. ‘You just make sure there’s a nice warm bath waiting for me.’ She tipped him a wink before opening the shop door and hurrying towards the van.
The falling snow was bitterly cold so she quickly sprayed the windscreen with de-icer before climbing behind the wheel. She fired up the engine, gave a shiver then turned on the radio. With the toasty seat-warmers switched on and the heat ramped up she indicated and pulled away from the shop, waving at the boys, who were watching from the window. The snow was coming down with a bold grace and Molly drove carefully towards the track leading up to the bridge that linked the village of Heartcross and the town of Glensheil. It was only a few years ago that the worst weather in a century had hit this tiny village, with devastating effects: the bridge had collapsed, leaving the villagers stranded.
The Scottish weather was unpredictable – it could turn overnight – and that’s why Molly was keen to provide as much support as possible to the homeless shelter. She didn’t like the thought of anyone sleeping on the streets at any time of the year, let alone in weather like this. She glanced up at Heartcross Castle as she passed. A couple of days ago the trees were heaven-blended browns and sweet umber caramels, but now each was frosted with a lacy brilliant white. There wasn’t a soul in sight as Molly drove over the bridge but smoke spiralled from the chimney pots of the houses. No doubt everyone was cosied up by their log fires, shielding themselves from the cold.
It was only a ten-minute drive to the shelter, which had been a part of the community for as long as Molly could remember. It offered more than the basic needs of the homeless; it was also an institution that provided hope and strength for people to believe in themselves so they could change their lives for the better. The shelter was situated in the square next to the splendour of the town hall, which was a fine piece of architecture and one of the most photographed landmarks in Glensheil. Molly turned right and slowed down as she followed the narrow side street that led around the back of the church towards the square.
The shelter was just up ahead and immediately Molly clocked the long line of people queuing in hope of a bed for the night. She knew the old, battered mattresses with springs poking in one’s back couldn’t be the most comfortable – nor was the hardness of the floor beneath a thin sleeping pad – but to those people queuing it was luxury and a lifeline they needed. Molly knew that there were more people than beds, and it broke her heart to think that some of them could possibly be turned away, especially in conditions like this.
Parking the van as close to the shelter door as possible, she spotted some of the regulars, and as usual there were a few faces she hadn’t seen before. The running of this shelter was a testament to Sam Evans, who’d been a volunteer since what seemed the year dot and was now the woman in charge. It was a giant task to provide food and warmth to all these people and keep the shelter running but Sam made it look easy.
Right on time the doors to the shelter opened and with their duffle bags and belongings slung over their shoulders and sleeping bags tucked under their arms, the men, women and families began to filter inside. Molly swung the van doors open and placed one wicker basket on top of the other, determined to carry more than one inside at a time. As soon as Sam spotted her, she came to help. She was a slim woman, with steely grey hair pulled back in a tidy bun. She wore a red check shirt, a pair of denim dungarees accompanied by cherry-red Doc Martens boots, and a thick green cardigan that hung from her shoulders like a blanket. Molly’s guess was that she was in her mid-sixties, though she’d never thought it right to ask.
‘It’s going to be a busy night,’ said Molly, unintentionally wrinkling her nose as she stepped inside the shelter. The smell of sour body odour mixed with cigarette smoke got her every time.
All around she could hear chatter, the raised voices in the background mingling with the sounds of chairs scraping and a TV playing somewhere.
‘The bad weather always brings more people in off the streets but, thankfully, we have more volunteers here tonight, to help with the food,’ shared Sam, nodding towards the kitchen.
‘There are three more baskets in the van if you want to take these ones through to the kitchen. I’ve thrown in some honey and jams in. They’re weeks within their sell-by date, so they can be used at any time.’
‘Molly, we can’t thank you enough; you and Cam are both so kind.’
‘Anything to help, you don’t need to thank us.’
Every time Molly walked through these doors she was in awe of Sam, who gave up her time on a daily basis to bring a little comfort to the lives of the people that wandered in off the streets. Some she knew from old as they’d been coming for years, and she knew that Sam was fond of many of them. Having a heart of gold, Sam would give them all a permanent home if she could.
Sam walked towards the kitchen balancing the wicker baskets in her arms and it wasn’t long before Molly was by her side unloading the rest of the goods onto the long aluminium counter. She greeted the volunteers who were helping to prepare the meals, laying bowls out in a long line on the cafeteria-style counter. In the main room the homeless were given a warm drink as they settled themselves.
‘This is the busiest I’ve seen it in a long time,’ observed Molly, peering through the hatch from the kitchen to the vast main room, with its bare walls, tiled flooring and long rows of tables with folding chairs. The serving staff setting up tonight’s meal provided a smile and light conversation while numerous people claimed their place to sleep and others wrapped their hands around polystyrene cups of warmth. Molly caught the eye of a man she’d seen a few times – Stan. He smiled at her then tipped his flat cap. His wizened face was a map of wrinkles hidden behind layers of grime and his hair hung as a tangled mop of brown and grey under his flat cap. His coat looked like it was once high-end but now, worn and dirty, it hung from his thin, fragile limbs. Molly guessed Stan must be in his early seventies, and wondered what his story was as she swallowed down a lump in her throat.
Being pregnant, Molly knew her emotions were heightened, but all she wanted to do was take Stan home and let him have a warm bath and a comfy bed to sleep in. Of course, she knew she couldn’t. Molly didn’t know how Sam kept her emotions in check because she herself could instantly start crying just thinking about everyone that walked through those doors. There was a certain sadness that bled through the room, yet a comforting feeling now the residents were safe, warm and off the streets for the night.
‘When I arrived earlier, I discovered a huge pile of fresh clean blankets folded up on the step,’ shared Sam with a smile on her face. ‘I was so relieved, knowing the numbers of people seeking shelter would increase tonight with the temperatures so low.’
‘Where did the linen come from?’ asked Molly, stirring the big pot of soup that was bubbling away on the stove.
‘Starcross Manor. Flynn sent me a text to say the hotel had them going spare. Honestly, that man is a saint. That text couldn’t have come at a better time, and that’s what I love about this community, we do look after each other,’ she said. ‘And all this…’ Sam was close to tears as she looked over all the fresh bread that Molly had brought. ‘They will all have full stomachs tonight.’ Sam took a knife and began slicing the bread, laying it out on plastic trays.
One of the volunteers helped Molly lift the big pot of soup off the stove and place it at the serving hatch. Already, the residents were forming an orderly queue, with Stan right at the very front.
‘We are being spoilt tonight, look at that bread!’ Stan’s eyes were wide and thankful.
As the volunteers began to serve, the residents were soon sitting down and tucking into a warm meal. There wasn’t a spare seat in the room.
‘I don’t like this part…’ Sam looked up towards the clock. ‘It’s time to shut the doors. I’d prefer to leave them open all night, but we are already full to capacity. Could you free the latch on the way out and shut the door behind you?’ Sam’s voice faltered.
Molly touched her elbow and nodded. ‘Of course,’ she replied, picking up the empty baskets.
‘And that bread is going down a treat.’ Sam smiled. ‘And don’t think we don’t know that Cam bakes extra bread each day, just for us. Thank you.’
There were no more words needed as the grateful look on Sam’s face was touching enough and Molly’s chest heaved as she walked towards the door. She wished she could do more. Taking one last look over her shoulder she glanced around the room and caught the eye of Stan, who gave her a wink. As she stepped outside onto the pavement, the ice-cold air immediately hit her as she slid the empty baskets into the back of the van. The snow wouldn’t be letting up anytime soon; it was still coming down thick and fast, and the weather for the foreseeable future was forecast to be much the same.
Just as Molly unlatched the door, she felt a presence standing right behind her and gasped as she nearly jumped out of her skin.
