Outside

Chapter Seventeen

I climb back into the AV and sit here, trying to decide what to do. Suddenly, there’s a sharp rapping on the windscreen. I jump and look up. It’s Luc with a smile on his face. Standing next to him is a small wiry man in a worn tweed jacket and matching cloth cap. I open the door, ecstatic to see Luc. When I get out, I want to wrap my arms around him, but I restrain myself. The air smells of wet grass and manure.

‘You’re alright!’ I say. ‘I thought you were never going to wake up and then when I woke up and saw you weren’t in the AV… Where were you? Are you okay?’ I immediately feel awkward at my outburst. My cheeks burn and I shift from foot to foot.

‘Hey, Riley, I’m okay. Just feel a bit sick and I’ve got a banging headache. I woke up and needed a pee. I didn’t know where I was, but when I saw you lying on the back seat I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. I had to check you were breathing.’

‘What?’

‘Well I didn’t know. I still don’t know what happened. When I realised you were just asleep, I didn’t want to wake you. What happened? How did you get us out of there? Sorry, I haven’t introduced you. This is Fred. It’s his land we’re parked on.’

‘Morning.’ He tips his cap and gives a tight-lipped smile, but his eyes are warm and humorous. ‘I found your man here, watering my field and was wondering if you’d care to take some breakfast with us. Jessie’s just gotta take the cows across for milking.’

‘Umm, great, yeah. If you’re sure that’s okay,’ I stammer, taken aback by the man’s apparent friendliness after the hostilities of last night.

Luc looks at me and shrugs as if to say ‘why not’.

‘How are you?’ he asks me again. ‘Tell me everything. Are you alright? How’s the AV? Does it still drive okay?’

‘I’m fine, the AV’s fine. It drove okay last night, but it took a bit of a battering. Maybe we better look underneath and we should check the tyres.’

We do a brief check and the only damage we can see, is a bent wheel arch and scraped front bumper. The engine still starts fine and miraculously the tyres are unpunctured.

Fred waits while we’re doing this, then he explains we’ll have to take the long way round as his fields are electrified and wired-off and there’s a five-feet-deep ditch around them as well. It dawns on me I could have easily fallen into this ditch last night. He gestures to us to follow and then strides on ahead, leaving Luc and me to stumble after him.

We make our way across the dew-sodden field. I’m still wearing my flip flops – the most impractical footwear on the planet – and have to skirt around prickly thistles and large steaming cow pats. As we walk, I fill Luc in on what happened last night after he’d been knocked out.

‘God, Riley, you saved our lives! You’re amazing and I was completely useless.’

‘Well, there’s not a lot you can do when you’re unconscious.’ My cheeks flush under his gaze.

‘True.’ He grins.

‘Changing the subject though, do you think it’s safe to follow these people?’

‘Well, I spoke to both of them for about half an hour before you woke up and they seem normal and decent. And they’re offering us breakfast. I’m starving, aren’t you?’

I realise I am.

We’re nearly at the barn. The cows are still mooing and I spot a cockerel on the fence, crowing for all he’s worth. A couple of collies sit to attention in the yard and then eagerly circle the woman as she exits the field with the cattle. They make me think of Woolly. It feels like ages since I’ve seen him, even though it was only yesterday. I almost wish we’d brought him with us.

She wheels a large scaffold tower out of the barn and across the smooth surface of the yard, over to where we’re waiting outside the barbed wire fence by the ditch. Fred pulls out a long wide plank from under a nearby bush. It has a thick groove in the top and he swings it up so it slots into a bar on the top platform of the tower. The bottom of the plank rests on the ground by our feet. Jessie climbs up the tower and throws us down a rope which is tied to the top of the tower. Fred uses the rope to haul himself, hand-over-hand, up the plank and onto the scaffold platform.

‘Up you come!’ he shouts. Luc and I look at each other and follow him up the plank. I’ve got slight doubts about following strangers into a place that obviously has no immediate route for escape. But, not wanting to appear rude, I follow his instructions and so does Luc. When we reach the top, Fred pulls up the plank and passes it down to Jessie. Then we all climb down the tower and Jessie wheels it away, back into the shed.

‘Cor, I’m getting too old for that climbing malarkey,’ Fred chuckles. ‘Haven’t done that in a while. We’ve got another way in and out, but I don’t know you well enough to show you it just yet, no offence.’

‘None taken,’ Luc says.

Jessie beckons us and we follow her past the barn and round the back, to a sweet Georgian-style farmhouse built from mellow grey stone and half-covered in dark green creeper.

‘Fred’s going to do the milking. He’ll be along later,’ she says in a husky, gravely voice.

We enter the house through a side door, which takes us into a freezing scullery. The dogs trot after us and lie down on a doggy-smelling rug, where they stay, looking somewhat dejected. Jessie slips off her Wellingtons and slides a pair of espadrilles on. We wipe our feet on the mat and follow her into the main, warmer part of the kitchen. She gestures to a chipped Formica table with six mismatched wooden chairs and we sit down gratefully and look around.

It’s a large, but cosy room with a slate floor and awful green textured wallpaper – functional, rather than aesthetic, but with a nice homey feel. On the shabby Welsh dresser sit framed photographs of children – a boy and a girl in various stages of childhood. I feel strangely comforted by the dresser’s warm honey and treacle tones. Its gleaming brass handles rest on backplates shaped like birds with their wings outstretched and I think back to the second scare I had last night when the owl nearly collided with the AV. If it hadn’t been for that startling encounter, I wouldn’t have stopped here, scared and exhausted. I get the superstitious thought that maybe the owl was Skye guiding us to kindness and shelter.

Jessie reaches into a kitchen cupboard and takes out an ancient looking bottle.

‘Hydrogen peroxide,’ she says. ‘I’m going to dilute it to clean that wound on your head,’ she says to Luc.

I see him wince. ‘Okay, thanks,’ he says.

She dabs some on the side of his head and it starts foaming. Luc doesn’t make a sound, but I notice him gripping the sides of his chair.

‘There,’ she says. ‘I’ll brew up some comfrey root tea to help the bruising. It‘ll take about an hour or so. Remind me after breakfast.’

‘Thanks,’ says Luc.

‘Now, on to more pleasant things. Tea? I’m afraid we’ve only got mint, but it’s quite delicious.’

‘Yes please,’ we chorus.

‘I’ve got some homemade bread and jam, if you’d like, or would you prefer bacon and eggs?’

I’m absolutely starving. I hadn’t realised how much, until she started talking about food and now I can feel the build-up of saliva in my mouth and the giant-sized hole in my stomach.

‘Tell you what,’ continues Jessie. ‘We’ll have the lot.’

She starts to prepare the food on a cream wood burning stove. It radiates a gentle heat, taking the edge off what would have been a very chilly room, if the freezing scullery is anything to go by.

As she cooks, we sip our tea and I tell her about the previous night’s unwelcome encounter. She listens without speaking; just nodding or shaking her head at the appropriate times.

‘And then I woke up and saw you with your cows in the field,’ I say, my story complete.

‘Unfortunately, your tale doesn’t surprise me,’ she replies, as she serves up our delicious-smelling English breakfast and joins us at the table. ‘When we go into the village, we always hear some awful tale about run-ins with the raiders. It’s getting worse and there’s no one to keep them in check. I don’t feel as safe here as I used to.’

‘Are they your children?’ I point to the photographs on the dresser.

‘Yes, that’s Freddie Junior and that’s Melissa.’

‘How old are they?’

‘Freddie’s nineteen now and Lissy’s sixteen.’

‘Same age as me,’ I say. ‘I’m sixteen.’

‘When’s your birthday?’ asks Jessie.

‘Beginning of May.’

‘Same as Lissy.’ There’s an awkward silence.

‘This is absolutely delicious, Jessie,’ says Luc.

‘Mmm,’ I agree. ‘It’s so kind of you to go to all this trouble.’

‘Not at all, it’s my pleasure.’ She smiles. I like her face. It’s kind and sweet. But she looks sad. I suppose it’s a hard, lonely life. I wonder where her children are.

We’re on to our third cup of tea and all but licking our plates clean, when Fred comes in through the scullery door.

‘Finished?’ Jessie asks him with a smile.

‘As if!’ Fred replies.

‘I’ll give you a hand after breakfast. Wash your hands and sit down. Yours is in the pan. I’ll serve it up.’

‘Lovely.’ He turns to us. ‘I see you’re enjoying the produce – all home grown you know.’

‘It’s fantastic,’ I enthuse.

‘Really good,’ says Luc. ‘Thanks so much for inviting us.’

‘You must stay as long as you like,’ Fred offers. ‘We don’t get many visitors.’

‘You forgot to remind me about the comfrey root!’ scolds Jessie. She takes a cloth and soaks it in the brewed tea. Then she places it on Luc’s head.

‘That feels great,’ he says. ‘Really good. Thanks.’

After breakfast, Luc goes back to the AV to check it’s still safely hidden from view and to do a more thorough check for damage, whilst Jessie gives me a tour of the farm. Fred says he has farm business to attend to, but will see us later this evening.

The farm is a fair size and they’ve got cattle, pigs, a tiny flock of sheep, ducks, chickens and rabbits. They also have an enormous kitchen garden which is charming, as well as practical.

Luc returns at about 10.30am and we both feel exhausted. We offer to help out with the chores, but Jessie won’t hear of it and tells us to go into the lounge, take a sofa each and have a sleep. She brings us in a couple of quilts, covers us over and draws the curtains.

‘Help yourselves to food and drink. I’ll be out in the yard if you need me.’ And she closes the door behind us. We’re alone again and I want to talk to Luc, but I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.

‘She’s so nice,’ says Luc.

‘I know,’ I yawn. ‘They don’t even know us. They’re really kind people.’ I snuggle down onto the soft floral sofa, pull the quilt up to my nose and sleep.