Chapter 35
Chapter 35
S ure enough the tiny supermarket was already readying itself for the day; milk and egg deliveries came early, and the bakery was up and running. The newspapers were coming in. They opened at 6:30 a.m., and there was a lot to do before then.
Gertie knocked nervously at the back door. They would barely remember her now, would they? She’d seen the girls on the front, for sure; you could hardly avoid that in this town. But she hadn’t seen Mr. Wainwright. Hopefully he wouldn’t be in so early.
To her disappointment—they were a bit short-staffed—her old boss was indeed there, looking as craggy and forbidding as ever, helping pull the milk off the float from Johannes. She stopped short.
Mr. Wainwright looked up, and to her total surprise, his face broke into a smile.
“Wee Gertie! I thought you’d left us forever!”
“Uh...” she stuttered, feeling pink. “No.”
“What are you doing out in this ?” he said, gesturing to the swirling air. “The milk’s practically frozen! Come on, give us a hand to get it inside.”
Gertie did so, finding it easier to act than speak.
“No, I mean it though,” he persisted, once they were inside the blessedly warm shop, the fluorescent light buzzing in a way Gertie found strangely comforting after all this time. “What on earth are you doing? The planes don’t go this early, do they?”
He eyed her sternly.
“Is Morag working you too hard? You’re always welcome back here, you know. No questions asked.”
He had actually just asked about a billion questions but Gertie politely didn’t point this out.
“No,” she said, her voice sounding small. Then she remembered. This was important. She cleared her throat. “It’s the Archland trip. The kids.”
Mr. Wainwright immediately grabbed at his coat. “Oh my God, of course,” he said, shaking his head. “I never thought... I never thought... Mine are grown up,” he added, apologetically. “Oh my God. Are they all right?”
“We’re going to drop some food and blankets and things,” said Gertie, “just to make sure. In case they can’t get down for a while.”
Mr. Wainwright started nodding immediately. “Yes, yes. Here.”
He looked around and started pulling out food. Chocolate biscuits, packet noodles, bottles of water. Babybels.
“Not the Babybels!!!” said Gertie. “They’re so expensive!”
“Nobody’s paying for these.”
Gertie blinked. This was completely unheard of.
“Nothing but the best for those babies.”
Gertie nodded in amazement and held out a large bag. He would have filled two if she hadn’t told him gently there was a limit to how much they could safely drop, and she still needed as many kindling blocks as she could manage. They were practically out of them, it being May, so the front of the shop was unhelpfully taken up with sunglasses and buckets and spades. Luckily they found kindling blocks and firelighters in the barbecue section, and in fact, added a couple of disposable barbecues, just in case the staff could find enough shelter to light them. It couldn’t hurt.
“Okay, that’s about all I can carry,” said Gertie.
“Oh, we can do better than that,” said Mr. Wainwright. “Surely. I walked here—I didn’t think the Porsche would manage in this weather...”
“Milk float won’t make it to the airfield,” said the milkman, shaking his head. “I’m amazed she made it this far to be honest.”
They looked at the pile on the ground.
“Of course I’ll...”
He had a considerable stomach, Mr. Wainwright. Gertie wasn’t sure she really wanted him out in the storm. She didn’t want to find herself responsible for anything else going wrong.
Suddenly there was a commotion at the front of the store—a great banging on the window.
Gertie squinted forward to see who it was.