‘They’re not used to strangers. That’s why they’re making more noise than usual,’ said Jim as he went round the boxes, carefully picking up the eggs and putting them in a little brown wicker basket which he had brought from the house. ‘Put the corn in the bucket into that trough in the middle, could you,’ he said to Nab and, as he did so, the hens all flew down off their perches around the shed and began pecking away furiously. The rain pelting down on the roof sounded very loud in contrast to the muffled quietness inside as the hens concentrated on eating and Jim looked for eggs.
‘Well,’ he said, when he had walked all round and come back to the door where Nab was standing, ‘I don’t think I’m going to find any more. They’ve done well though; we’ve got plenty. I’ll just fill up their water trough and then we’ll go.’
They walked back round the other end of the house and Nab looked at the neat little vegetable patch around which Jim had put a tall fence to keep the goats and the sheep out. It was a mass of green; the fern-like tops of the potatoes, not yet dug up for the winter, rows of broccoli and sprouts and curly kale to see them through the long cold days ahead; smaller rows of autumn and winter cabbage and then at the end the high stakes on which the runner beans climbed. Jim had taken the onions in only yesterday and they were.drying in one of the outbuildings.
When they got back in through the front door Nab took off his dripping coat and passed it to J im who shook it outside and then hung it on a peg alongside his own on the back of the door. They left their muddy wellingtons on a mat at the side.
‘You’re just in time,’ Ivy called out. ‘I’m putting the soup on the table.’
‘Come on,’ Jim said to Nab. ‘I’ll bet you’re starving.’
Four steaming bowls of vegetable soup had been laid out on the kitchen table and Beth and Ivy were just about to start. Nab sat down on the chair next to Beth and she showed him how to use a spoon to drink his soup. He remembered, with a shiver of fear, the last time he had done this, so long ago. They all laughed as the soup dripped from his spoon over the table or else dribbled down his chin but he soon learnt the knack of it and began to enjoy the delicious flavour. On a plate beside the bowl, Ivy had given him a thick slice of freshly made brown bread which was still warm and he copied the others who were breaking chunks'of it off and eating it between spoonfuls of soup. Soon he had reached the bottom of the bowl and was spooning up all the pieces of vegetable that were left; cubes of tender young carrot and potatoes and turnip, peas and beans and barley. He and Beth had another bowlful and then Ivy went over to the range and fetched out of the oven four plates, on each of which stood a golden yellow green pea omelette garnished with sprigs of parsley and tomatoes.
‘Jim,’ she said. ‘Can you get the fried potatoes and the vegetables.’ The old man got up and brought across a huge bowl full of crinkly fried potatoes and another bowl, in one half of which was a heap of french beans and in the other a little mound of green sprouting broccoli spears.
‘Help yourselves,’ said Ivy. ‘I hope I’ve done enough. Anyway, have as much as you want. I’m sure you’d like some more wine. I’ll go and get the glasses and fill them up.’
Nab found handling a knife and fork a lot more difficult than a spoon so after a few awkward attempts Ivy fetched another spoon and he used that. He savoured and enjoyed every single mouthful, as did Beth, who could never remember a meal tasting so wonderful before. Jim kept topping up their wine glasses as they became empty until by the time they had finished eating they not only felt gloriously satisfied but also rather lightheaded so that they found themselves laughing with each other and with Jim and Ivy at all sorts of little things which they found inexplicably and hilariously funny. For that short magic spell of time they forgot the horrors of the past and the frightening uncertainty of the future and were suspended in the present; totally carefree and living only for the joy and happiness of those moments of laughter.
When they’d finished the omelette they had gooseberry pie and then finally cream crackers and cheese; a lovely soft goat’s-milk cheese which Ivy had made early that morning.
‘Now, to finish off, have a piece of cake,’ she said, and although Nab and Beth were full to bursting they were unable to resist the rich dark chocolate cake that Ivy pushed towards them.
‘Just a little slice,’ said Beth. ‘We’re really only being greedy.’ ‘No. You mustn’t say that. It may be a long time before you’re able to eat properly again. This will have to last you.’
‘Well, it was delicious,’said the girl, taking a bite of the cake. How she had enjoyed the evening! She wished with all her heart that they could stay here with these two warm and gentle old people in this beautiful little house. It had been like a dream from which she never wanted to wake. She looked at Nab sitting next to her with a smile all over his face and his big dark eyes twinkling with laughter in the candlelight and knew that he too would have liked to stay. Then Jim asked the question she had been afraid to ask herself all night.
‘When will you have to be leaving, Beth? You know that you’re welcome to stay for as long as you want but we don’t want to hold you or keep you.’
She turned and spoke to Nab.
‘How do you feel now?’ he said.
‘A lot better,’ she answered reluctantly.
‘Well, I think we should leave in the morning. We’ll get a good night’s sleep and then leave at first light. We don’t know how far away the Urkku are and anyway I have a feeling that time is running out.’ He reached out and put his hand over hers. ‘I want to stay as well,’ he said, ‘but you know we can’t.’ He smiled at her tenderly, wishing that he could promise her that some day they would have a little home like this. ‘Perhaps…’ he started to say, but then stopped.
Beth turned back to the old couple.
‘We’ll have to go in the morning,’ she said.
‘Well, if you’re sure you’re up to it. You know best. I’ll make you some sandwiches.’
Beth laughed. ‘You’re very kind,’ she said. ‘That would be lovely.’ Now suddenly, the wine, the food and the warmth hit the exhausted bodies of Nab and Beth all at once and a great wave of tiredness engulfed them. The animals were still fast asleep around the fire and it was all Nab could do not to join them then and there, although he was unable to stifle a huge yawn.
Jim saw it and smiled. ‘You’re worn out,’ he said. ‘You must get to sleep now. We’ll be in here for a bit washing up and so on so you two had better sleep in our room at the back, where you hid this morning. We won’t disturb the animals. If they wake up we’ll see what we can find for them to eat. Otherwise we’ll leave something out.’
Wearily Nab and Beth pushed back their chairs and got up from the table. Then Beth, moved by a sudden impulse of affection, went round the table to where Ivy was sitting and, putting her arms around her neck, kissed her on the forehead.
‘Goodnight,’ she said, ‘and thank you, for a lovely day.’
Ivy looked up and her eyes were misty with tears.
‘Goodnight, dear,’ she said. ‘Sleep well.’
Then Jim got up and led them through into the bedroom. To her delight Beth saw a washbasin and towel in one corner of the room.
‘Can I have a wash?’ she said. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve used soap. Oh, and talcum powder. Do you think I could borrow some?’
‘Of course,’ Jim replied, chuckling. ‘Have a good sleep and I’ll see you in the morning. You must have some breakfast with us before you go.’
He went out and shut the door, leaving a candle on the chest of drawers next to the bed.