Chapter 11
Roo came to help and together the three of them took everything to the dining table. Elizabeth bobbed her head into the bar carriage to tell the others that dinner was served.
‘Come on, Jane, get yourself sat down here, love. You’ve got first pick of the sandwiches. Some stand pie as well there, darlin’, if you fancy,’ said Frank.
‘You’re a star,’ said Jane, her voice brimming with gratitude. When her eyes came to rest on the tower of sandwiches that Frank had made, she added, ‘My goodness, when do the rest of the five thousand arrive?’
Frank pulled the chair out for Jane and then tucked her under the table. Roo poured her a cup of tea and when she lifted it to her lips and sipped she sighed. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever tasted better.’
‘It’s Yorkshire Belle blend, according to the tin,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Can you believe they have their own tea and coffee?’
‘Well, you would if you could.’ Roo passed the sandwiches to Tim and it really wasn’t her imagination that he grunted a thank-you as if torn between being polite and dismissive, manners slightly winning out. She felt her nerve endings bristle as if something primal within her sensed an enemy.
The rapture showed on Frank’s face as his teeth bit down into his cheese and pickle. The bread tasted as if it had come out of the oven less than an hour ago.
‘I don’t usually get this much pleasure from something I’ve put together myself but on this occasion…’
‘Absolutely delicious,’ said Roo, through a mouthful, then apologised. ‘Sorry, I know I shouldn’t talk with my gob full but credit where it’s due, Frank.’
Frank couldn’t help beaming watching everyone tuck in. He enjoyed feeding people. He was one of life’s carers and nurturers. It ran in the family, his lot had all been the same.
‘There’s plenty of food anyway, so at least we are not going to wither away. And let’s hope and pray the generator keeps working.’
‘There’s a fireplace in the lounge, though, and there’s a store of logs so we at least have a source of heat if all else fails,’ said Vincent.
‘And if we have fire, and we have bread we can have toast and warm up our insides as well.’ He smiled.
Elizabeth tried not to think how nice his smile was.
His face defaulted to that smile, she’d noticed.
‘Goodness, listen to that,’ said Tim, as a flurry of hailstones hit the train windows behind him, sounding as if someone had thrown handfuls of rocks at the glass.
‘It makes being inside extra cosy, don’t you think?
’ said Frank. He turned to Grace. ‘You all right, love?’ He handed her the pot of pickle and she knew that he’d probably searched the stores to find it because she liked it on every sandwich, regardless of what it was.
A picture flashed up in her mind of her once peeling back the top slice of bread on an egg mayo sandwich and spooning it on and Frank shaking his head, but smiling.
She’d made him smile a lot over the years, but she couldn’t remember when the last time was.
‘Vincent said there are some bedrooms made up,’ said Jane, reaching for another sandwich. Soft buttered bread and salty chicken had restored her.
‘Yes, four of the cabins are unlocked and we should seriously think about using them tonight. We can’t sleep on sofas with blankets wrapped round us.
We might be here for another full day at this rate,’ said Frank.
‘There’s plenty of linen stocks and I’m pretty sure that it won’t take Mr Ingleton’s staff long to change the beds.
Our needs are here and now and I for one am sleeping supine with a pillow at my head tonight. ’
‘Four rooms and seven of us,’ echoed Elizabeth. ‘That’s Frank and Grace in one…’
‘I’ll fly solo, if no one minds. I snore like a drain,’ Tim butted in, which threw the ideal sharing arrangements out immediately.
‘I’ll share with one of the ladies then,’ said Grace.
Tim winced. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I don’t mind sharing but they might. It’s a bit embarrassing…’
‘I have no qualms at all in sharing,’ Jane said. ‘In fact, I’d prefer it. Grace?’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll come in with you, Jane.’
Elizabeth looked towards Roo who put her thumb up by way of an answer as her mouth was full of ham, bread and mustard. Elizabeth would be a good room-mate, she thought. Nice company. She didn’t want to be alone either.
‘Looks like you’ve got the short straw with me, mate.’ Frank pointed to Vincent. ‘We can talk about Kent and how annoyed we get when people think we’re cockneys.’
‘Ha, you’re on.’
‘Oh, the weather outside is indeed frightful,’ said Brian’s voice from the radio speaker. ‘I’m going to be ending this broadcast very soon. I hope Mrs BBC has got the warming pan ready for the sheets…’
That caused some titters around the table.
‘Warming pan? Even we had electric blankets when I was young and I’m now eighty-one.
’ Jane reached for a slice of pie. She hadn’t enjoyed a meal as much in a long time; simple fare but absolutely delicious.
Roo picked up the pot and went around the table filling the tea drinkers’ cups up. Grace did the same with the coffee.
‘Only joking, of course, although according to the other BBC, the weather update for this region is a little bit grim, I’m afraid.
More snow is on the way. I’m shaking my fist in the general direction of Siberia for everyone so you don’t have to bother.
’ Brian chortled. ‘I’m having a very warming hash supper tonight.
Best beef, our own home-grown potatoes and carrots.
Mrs Cosgrove makes the best. And I always ask her to put a few sprouts in it as well… ’
‘That sounds good.’ Vincent found himself thinking about coming home from school, pushing open the door to be greeted by the aroma of his mum’s best beef hash, served on a massive fried pancake that overlapped the plate. That was his favourite tea of all time.
‘I’m presuming he doesn’t mean wacky baccy hash,’ put in Roo.
‘Shh.’ Tim directed the sound at Roo alone. She was despising him a little more with every passing minute.
‘Hope you’re all warm and snug. Here’s Winter Wonderland, but don’t anyone go out and build a snowman – not in this. So, until tomorrow, everyone. Goodnight and god bless.’
‘You have heard of hash before, haven’t you, Roo?’ Vincent’s voice was soft and she knew it was an attempt to counteract Tim’s snap. He had no need to though, she wasn’t a drip, but she was glad he recognised that the big beardy git was a knob. More Wanker Claus than Santa Claus.
‘I’m presuming it’s some sort of stew?’ Roo answered him.
‘It’s probably different things depending on where you’re from.
I’d have said it’s somewhere between a fry-up and a stew.
I think some of that might be on the menu for tomorrow if the rescue party hasn’t been.
I spotted some beef in the fridge.’ Frank looked at the window he was facing and the chaos of snowflakes being buffeted by the wind.
The idea of them being a rescue party’s priority in this seemed ludicrous.
‘Please put some sprouts in it. I love sprouts.’ Roo gave him her most hopeful smile.
‘I will. Christmas Eve hash-stew,’ said Frank. ‘The best of comfort food.’
Christmas Eve, thought Roo. If ever there was a day when she needed some comfort food – tomorrow was it.
Jane stood up to clear the plates until Elizabeth kindly, but firmly, told her to sit back down – she and Grace had this. Vincent and Tim got on with rolling people’s luggage down to the cabins. Roo and Elizabeth had cabin one, next door Jane and Grace, then Frank and Vincent and Tim in the fourth.
When Grace went in to get her regular nighttime magnesium tablet from her case her jaw dropped when she saw how gorgeous the bedroom was, with its green and gold blinds and curtains, mirrors polished to a perfect shine, cut-glass lamps and carpet almost thick enough to bounce on.
There were storage cupboards everywhere, with inset hinges so they were flush to the walls in order to be invisible, every inch of space either decorative or functional.
There were two adjacent single beds in the cabin and a separate dressing area with a sink that sat inside a large wooden cabinet with curved doors and shelves full of stoppered bottles of toiletries that promised the highest quality contents.
Adjacent, there was a heated brass towel rail with fluffy snow-white towels draped over them, Yorkshire Belle in golden scroll embroidered along the bottom of each.
There was a thick white robe folded into a parcel on each bed, tied with blue and gold ribbon.
It wasn’t hard to imagine how comfortable and welcoming that bed would be, even without the sort of day they’d had.
Nodding off on a sofa wrapped in a blanket versus this bed; there was really no competition between the two options on offer.
Jane came in when Grace was taking the T-shirt she used as a nightie out of her case.
‘Oh my goodness,’ she exclaimed, looking round. ‘How beautiful.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘I’ve stayed in some lovely staterooms in hotels and on ships, but this beats them all,’ Jane told her. ‘There’s a shower next door if you didn’t know. It’s compact but there’s no slipping of standards.’
‘I think I’d very much like a shower before I turn in, it’s been such a long day.’ Grace yawned then, hit by a wave of tiredness.
‘That sounds like a plan, Grace.’
‘Plenty of warm towels in that little side room, Jane. I hope you don’t mind, I’ve claimed this bed under the window.
I thought the other might be slightly warmer for you.
There’s no draught, of course, but that one just looks cosier.
’ Grace leaned over the bed and pulled down the heavy blind, shutting out the expanse of black sky and white snow outside.
‘I really don’t mind but thank you for the consideration,’ Jane replied. She noticed the robe parcel on the bed. ‘My, that looks as if it would be a luxurious wear. I’m not sure it would be right to, though.’
‘Yes, I agr—’
‘Then again, we’re using everything else, aren’t we?’ Jane cut her off. ‘And these are “extenuating circumstances” after all.’ Her lip kinked at the left side.
Jane pulled the ribbon, killing the bow, and lifted up the robe, shaking out the creases. ‘Look at that. I’m really not going to be able to resist putting it on.’
‘Well, if you are…’ Grace undid the ribbon on her robe.
The sound came from far away, low but still enough to cut through the weather and reach Jane.
She always did have very acute hearing that hadn’t diminished as the years had gone on; if anything, it had sharpened.
An audiologist had once told her that she could hear an ant walking in bedsocks across a woollen quilt.
Clifford had called it a gift, but there had never been any major advantages to it so she would have disputed that.
‘Do you hear that, Grace? A bell, in the distance.’ Its tone consistent and rhythmic: ring-ring – pause – ring-ring…
Grace strained her ears and moved her head around but she couldn’t hear a thing, then a knock at their cabin door broke their concentrations and made them jump.
Jane opened it to find Frank outside.
‘Sorry to disturb you, girls, but my toothbrush is in your toiletry bag, Grace.’
Grace unzipped her bag, pulled it out and handed it to him.
‘I suppose you’ll want the toothpaste as well.’
‘No, you keep it. I’ve found some in the cupboard underneath the sink,’ Frank replied. ‘Yep, they’ve even got Yorkshire Belle branded tubes of toothpaste. Not that I’m surprised; are you?’ He addressed the question to Jane.
‘Not one bit, Frank.’
‘Is there anything else of yours in my case?’ Grace asked him, almost impatiently.
‘No, I don’t think so, love.’
Jane had already noticed how different his tone towards her was to the tone she used towards him. It was as if he were treading carefully on eggshells, his voice always subdued, reverent, in fear of shattering them.
‘Everyone’s having a nightcap before we turn in,’ said Frank.
‘Right,’ said Grace.
‘That sounds like a good idea,’ enthused Jane. ‘Though I don’t think I’ll have any trouble sleeping in this bed.’
‘See you down there then.’
‘You will indeed,’ said Jane.
‘Grace, you coming?’
‘Yes.’ The word flat, emotionless.
Frank pulled the door to. And Jane thought, there is a marriage in trouble.