Page 71 of Snowflakes at the Little Christmas Tree Farm
I’m not sure whether to be horrified or impressed that a man as far into his seventies as Fergus knows the term ‘getting jiggy with it’ and isn’t afraid to use it in public.
Noel and I scramble apart and get to our feet, and I shout across the river to them. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Glenna phoned. Said the farm was in trouble and you needed help. We’re the cavalry.’ Fiona glances behind her as Glenna, Iain and the other two farm workers, the baker, the bookseller, and the candle woman appear. ‘The mostly elderly cavalry who aren’t quite sure what they’re doing and need a bit of direction. And tea!’ She starts dispatching people towards the house for tea, coffee, and pumpkin bread duties, but I interrupt.
‘It’s dangerous. The ground is wet and muddy, you might fall.’ I envision these poor old people flailing around on their backs in the sludge, a tangle of limbs unable to get up with broken hips and dislocated shoulders and legs sticking out at all angles.
‘Oh, never mind that nonsense. Have youseenthose two big, burly farmhands? If you think a bit of rain is going to put me off watching them work, you’ve got another thing coming. Opportunities toappreciatemen like that don’t come along every day, you know.’
I giggle and the tears that have been threatening finally spill over. Noel drops an arm around my shoulder and tugs me into his side. ‘Why would they do this?’ I turn my face into his wet chest to hide. ‘It’s horrible out here. Why would they voluntarily come out in this?’
‘Because they like you, Lee,’ he says softly in my ear. ‘Because they care about you and this farm and how much work you’ve put into it. You’ve helped all of us at the market – why shouldn’t they help you when you need it too?’
‘Because—’
‘People can be kind without wanting anything in return. Let them. Just because you were stung once doesn’t mean you will be again.’
I slip my arm around his waist and squeeze tight, trying to reflect the same sentiment back at him.
The farm workers come across the bridge and Noel and I explain the situation and what we’ve done so far. Before I know it, there’s a hive of activity all around. The two seasonal lads seem to know exactly what to do, and they start digging another trench to divert the water towards the back of the farm. Iain jumps the fence and starts digging from the empty land on the opposite side to give the water a bigger escape route.
Noel, the bookseller and the baker disappear into the trees and return with yet another casualty while Fergus leans on his walking stick and directs the positioning to build the tightest makeshift flood defence wall possible. Fiona’s supervising the digging like she’s judging a wet T-shirt competition, and Glenna’s at the house with Gizmo, getting the fire roaring and keeping an endless supply of tea, biscuits, and pumpkin muffins coming out.
The rushing of the water is replaced by the chatter of friends and shouts of direction from Fergus, whose skill at building gingerbread houses makes him an expert at building makeshift tree walls.
Glenna puts a hand on my shoulder and pushes a cup of tea into one hand and a pumpkin cupcake into the other, making me jump because I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t seen her coming over.
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ I say, meaning both the tea and calling the others.
‘Of course I did, flower. I came out to check on things when Noel didn’t come back and saw what was happening. If you can’t rely on your friends when you’re up to your neck in water and struggling, when can you? All I did was give Fergus a quick ring, knowing Iain would know what to do. They did the rest.’ The hand on my shoulder squeezes again. ‘We help our own round here, Leah. You’re one of us now whether you like it or not.’
‘Oh, I like it. I like it a lot.’ It should be impossible to cry while holding a cupcake, but my eyes sting again and I have to blink furiously to try to hold back the tears.
These new friends who turned up at exactly the moment that Noel and I couldn’t do any more on our own, expecting nothing in return. None of them are paying any mind to the rain. They’re just getting on with the task at hand.
‘I think you’re just what Elffield needed, and maybe it’s exactly what you needed too.’ She looks me directly in the eyes. ‘And not just Elffield.’
I follow her pointed gaze towards Noel, who’s currently sawing through a tree trunk to fit into the flood defence wall. Like he can sense me watching, he looks up and meets my eyes, and his whole face lights up with a smile.
The kiss that was interrupted is definitely going to be resumed later.
Glenna goes back towards the house, and I pick up my shovel again and start trying to deepen the channels I’ve already dug. There’s so much sodden earth that they’re gradually filling with sloppy mud rather than the water, but I can already see the difference it’s making. It was too frantic earlier with just me and Noel, but with so many hands on board, it’s easy to take a step back and realise that the level of the river is dropping and it isn’t as forceful. The surface water has started to drain into the channels, and I lose track of time as we all work together to stop this being quite such a disaster after all.
A couple of hours later, everyone is cold and wet, but full of smiles, Christmas songs and bad cracker jokes that make us all laugh because of how bad they are. Everyone heads back towards the house to dry off in front of the fire, but I grab Noel’s hand and hold him back.
‘How bad do you think the damage is?’
He makes a face. ‘It’s impossible to tell at this stage, but I think you’ve lost a fair few Balsams and some Blue spruces. Judging by how wet the ground is, I’d guess at six or seven hundred trees, maybe more if the rest of it doesn’t drain quickly.’
‘That’s pretty much all the Balsam firs.’ There’s a pang of dread in my stomach. It’s a big chunk out of the six thousand trees that are here, and I’m well aware that stock is likely to be short in the next few years without this blow too.
‘We can cut some of the Balsams from the far end and sell them at the market, but that’s it. You’ll have to close the whole Balsam field this season. You can’t let the public wander around with these trenches threaded throughout the field in case someone slips.’
I groan, but I’d already planned on doing it anyway. The ground is too wet and dodgy to let people in.
‘There are chains for the gate and “keep out” signs in the barn, and one of your first expenses needs to be getting a flood wall built. It won’t be cheap, but it’ll stop this ever happening again.’
I groan at that too. More money outgoing, and even less incoming.
