Christmas with her Boss

CHAPTER SIX

IT TOOK Meg a while to wake up on milking mornings. She liked working in silence for the first half hour or so, and that suited the cows. They usually seemed to be half asleep too, ridding themselves of their load of milk before getting on with their daily task of grazing, snoozing and making more.

But, eventually, Meg woke up. Whether she was working with Letty or Kerrie, by the time milking ended she usually had the radio on, she was chatting to whoever was around, singing along with the radio; even the cows seemed more cheerful.

But not this morning. Her boss seemed to have left his bed on the wrong side. He worked methodically, swabbing, attaching cups, releasing cows from the bales, but answering any ventured conversation with monosyllables. Yes, no, and nothing more was forthcoming.

It was probably for the best, Meg decided as they worked on. Yesterday had threatened to get out of hand. She wasn’t quite sure what it was that was getting out of hand, but whatever it was scared her. She knew enough to retreat now into her own world and let W S McMaster get on with his.

It was disconcerting, though. With milking finished, William handled the hose with none of yesterday’s enjoyment. She found herself getting irritated, and when Craig arrived to pick up the milk and gestured towards William and said, ‘So who’s the boyfriend?’ she was able to shake her head without even raising colour. Who’d want someone like this for a boyfriend?

‘He’s someone I work with. He’s stuck here because of the airline strike.’

‘And he bought the kid the Minis?’ It seemed the whole district knew about the Minis. Craig’s son had been under the car pile last night and would be back here this morning.

‘Yeah.’

‘Good move,’ he said approvingly. He glanced across at William, obviously aching to talk cars, but William was concentrating on getting the yard hosed and nothing was distracting him. ‘Seemed happier yesterday,’ he noted.

‘He’s homesick.’

‘Wife? Kids?’

‘No.’

‘Then what’s he whinging about?’ Craig demanded. He yelled over to William, ‘Hey, Will. Merry Christmas. There’s no dairy pick-up tomorrow, so have a good one.’

William raised a hand in a slight salute and went on hosing. Craig departed and Meg surveyed her boss carefully.

‘We’ve offended you?’

He shrugged.

Oh, enough. ‘It’s Christmas Eve,’ she said. ‘Lighten up.’

‘I’ll finish here. You go do something else. Don’t you have to stuff a turkey or something?’

‘Right,’ she said and stalked out of the yard, really irritated now. She was hungry. She’d intended to wait for William before she ate breakfast, but he could eat his toast alone.

She detoured via Millicent, and that made her pause. Millicent was standing in the middle of the home paddock, her back arched a little and her tail held high. Uh-oh. When Meg slipped through the rails and crossed to check, the cow relaxed and let Meg rub her nose, but Meg thought the calf would be here soon, today or tomorrow.

Here was another factor to complicate her Christmas. Letty would worry all day.

Every now and then a cow came along you got fond of. Millicent was one of those. Born after a difficult labour, she’d been a weakling calf. A hard-headed dairy farmer would have sold her straight away. Letty, however, had argued the pros and cons with herself for a week while tending to her like a human baby, and after a week she’d decided she had potential.

She’d named her before she’d decided to name the rest of the herd, and she’d been gutted when she’d been lost. Finding her had been a joy.

‘So let’s do this right for Letty,’ Meg told her and went and fetched her a bucket of chaff and shooed her closer to the trough. ‘No complications for Christmas.’

There was nothing more she could do now, though. Labour in cows didn’t require a support person, at least in the early stages.

Breakfast. Hunger. And don’t think about William, she told herself; he was yet another complication she didn’t need.

And then a scream split the morning, a scream so high and terrified Meg’s heart seemed to stop. She forgot all about William, forgot about Millicent’s complications, and she started to run.

The concrete was as clean as he could make it. No speck of dirt was escaping his eagle eye this morning and he finally turned off the tap with regret. Move on to the next thing fast, he thought. He had today and tomorrow to get through while keeping things businesslike.

Meg would be in the kitchen, having breakfast. Yesterday he’d watched her eat toast. Before yesterday he’d never watched her eat toast. Yes, he travelled with her often, but when he did he ordered breakfast in his room. He wasted less time that way.

But yesterday he’d decided he liked watching her eat breakfast. Dumb or not, it wasn’t a bad way to waste time.

A man could waste a lot of time watching Meg.

And that was exactly what he was trying not to think. He wound the hose back onto the reel with more force than was necessary and thought he’d see if Scott was in the shed yet. It was after eight. He could talk to Scott for a while and then maybe Meg would be finished in the kitchen.

What sort of coward was he? What was to be afraid of, watching Meg eat toast?

Meg. Miss Jardine.

Meg.

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Two days…

He could do this. He turned towards the house, irritated with himself. All this needed was a bit of discipline. Containment.

And then…a scream.

Forget containment. He ran.

It was Letty. Where? Where?

As Meg neared the house Letty screamed again.

Dear God…

She was high up on the roof, right by the Santa chimney. Had she been trying to fix him? But now wasn’t the time for questions. Letty was dangling from the ridge, tiny and frail and in deadly peril.

The roof had two inclines, the main one steep enough, but the attic gable rising even more steeply. The roof was old, the iron was rusting, and the capping on the high ridge had given way. Or was giving way. It hadn’t given completely.

It was all that was holding Letty up.

Scotty burst out of the house as Meg arrived. ‘Grandma!’

‘She’s on the roof.’

The capping tore again, just a little, iron scraping on iron. Letty lurched downward but somehow still held.

‘Grandma,’ Scott screamed, his voice breaking in terror. ‘Hang on!’

Meg was too busy to scream. How had she climbed? The ladder… Where? By the gate.

But then William was beside her, reaching the ladder before she did. ‘Hold it,’ he snapped. ‘Scott, hold the other side.’

The capping tore more, and Letty lurched again.

‘Letty, hold on,’ William ordered her, in a voice that brooked no argument. ‘Fingernails if you must, but do not let go. I’m coming.’

‘H…hurry.’

He was already climbing. ‘Keep still.’

How could you defy that voice? Why would you?

Nobody moved. Meg and Scott held to the ladder as if their lives depended on it.

Their lives didn’t. Letty’s did, and so did William’s.

The roof was high pitched, curved, dangerous, and the ladder only reached part way to the top ridge. William clambered over the main eaves as if they weren’t there. It was impossible to climb further, Meg thought numbly from underneath. The second gable was far too steep-but somehow William was doing it.

‘You’ll fall,’ she faltered.

‘Not me,’ he said, finding footholds she knew couldn’t exist. ‘Mountaineering 101-Basic skills for your modern businessman. Watch and wonder.’

She watched, and yes, she wondered, but it wasn’t admiration she was feeling. It was blind terror. Please. Please.

And then somehow, unbelievably, William was on the upper ridge, edging himself toward Letty. Santa’s sleigh was between them. He shoved; it tumbled back behind the house and no one noticed its going.

He edged closer…closer…while below him Meg and Scott forgot to breathe.

He’d reached her. He was steadying, stabilising himself over the ridge, grasping Letty’s wrists and holding.

He had her.

‘Don’t move. Just lie limp and let me pull you up.’

Scotty choked on a sob. Meg gripped his hand and held, taking comfort as well as giving it. Letty wasn’t safe yet. William was still balanced on a ridge with an already broken capping.

The ladder only reached to the eaves of the main roof, so what now? William might be able to climb up like a cat burglar. It was impossible that he climb down holding Letty.

‘Meg?’

‘Y…yes?’

‘I can’t get us down,’ he told her. ‘Not the way I came up. If I overbalance we’ll both go.’

She knew it. They needed the fire brigade, she thought. They needed help.

They had no phone. The nearest neighbour was a mile away, but William already knew that.

‘I’m buying you a satellite phone for Christmas,’ he muttered. ‘If it costs a million bucks you’re still having one.’ He had Letty solidly under the arms now and was hauling her upward like a limp doll. ‘So Letty, are you going to argue?’

‘N…No.’

‘Good woman.’ One last heave and he had her on the ridge, into his arms.

She was safe, Meg thought. Or…safeish. With the capping gone the whole attic roof looked unstable but at least Letty was no longer dangling.

But… Her wrist looked hurt. She could see a crimson stain from here. She was losing blood?

William was inching backward along the ridge, heading for the chimney. He could lean on the bricks. Safeish was turning to safe.

Sort of. Until he came to get her down.

‘This cut’s not looking good,’ he said, almost conversationally, and Meg thought he was trying not to scare Letty. But she knew this voice. It meant he wanted action, fast. He tugged Letty hard against him, leaned back against the chimney to make them both stable, then ripped the sleeve from his overalls, as if it was gauze instead of industrial-strength cotton. He wound the fabric round her arm and held her close.

‘So how did you get up here?’ he asked.

Letty didn’t answer. Not a good sign.

He stared downward, seemingly as mystified as Meg. That Letty could have scrambled up the way he had seemed incredible.

‘There…there’s another ladder,’ Scott ventured. He was shaking, and Meg’s hand firmed over his. ‘Another ladder?’

‘When I put the sleigh up I used two.’

‘You used two…’

‘It fell,’ Letty muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘As I reached the top. I grabbed, but it went and then I grabbed the capping.’

Meg was no longer listening. She was searching the under-growth, and here it was. Another ladder, buried behind the banksias.

Scott and Letty had both climbed up on this ancient roof using two ladders. Alone.

Were they out of their minds?

She shouldn’t have left them. She should’ve been here. She should…

Just get a grip, she told herself. Blame needed to wait.

‘I’ll get the ladder back up,’ she called to William. ‘Hold on.’

There was no time for hesitation. She moved the main ladder along the wall so it was wedged against the yard gate, so Scott could hold it steady by himself. Then she headed up, tugging the smaller ladder with her.

‘Meg…’ William sounded appalled. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘Scott’s done it. Letty’s done it. If all of my stupid family is intent on self destruction I might as well join them. There’s no alternative.’

There wasn’t. He knew there wasn’t.

‘You fall and you’re fired,’ he snapped.

‘That’s right. Resort to threats under pressure. You fall and I quit,’ she snapped back, and caught the flash of a rueful smile.

But… How had Letty and Scotty done this, she thought, as she struggled upward. They’d climbed the first ladder dragging the next, each doing it alone?

She’d looked at Santa’s legs last night and she’d thought the same as Letty obviously had-that she’d have a go at fixing him. But Letty was in her seventies, and that Scott could have tried with his leg in a brace…

She shuddered and she paused, half way up the ladder.

‘You can do it,’ William said strongly and she looked up and met his gaze and took a deep breath.

During the years she’d worked for William she’d been given the most extraordinary orders. She’d done the most extraordinary things.

You can do it.

She loved working for William.

You fall and you’re fired.

What did he think she was? A wuss? She climbed on.

She reached the first eave. She balanced herself, took a deep breath and swung the second ladder up to the next eave.

‘No,’ William said.

‘No?’

‘It won’t hold.’ He sounded calm now, back in control. He’d obviously been using the time while she struggled to think the scenario through. ‘I can see where it fell. The guttering’s broken and there’s no guarantee it won’t break again. You’ll need to lie a plank along its length so the ladder’s weight’s on half a dozen fastenings instead of one.’

‘I’ll get a plank,’ Scott said.

‘Scott!’ William’s voice would have stopped an army.

‘What?’

‘Let that ladder go before your sister’s down and you’re fired, too. Meg, leave the ladder where it is and go find the plank with Scott. You do this together. My way or not at all.’

Meg looked at her boss. He looked straight back.

‘Let’s do what the man says,’ she told her little brother. ‘He’s the boss.’

They found a beam, ten foot long. Scott heaved from below and she tugged. She laid it along the length of guttering. She shifted the second ladder so it was balanced on the midpoint and it was as safe as they could make it. Done.

All William had to do was edge Letty back along the ridge-and let Meg take her down.

‘You can’t.’ William’s voice was agonised as they faced this final step, but he knew the facts. Meg was five foot five; he was six feet two. He weighed at least forty pounds more than she did. Everything depended on the guttering holding.

Letty couldn’t climb herself. It was Meg who’d support Letty on the way down.

Slowly William edged back along the ridge, lifting Letty a little at each move. She was so limp, Meg thought. She couldn’t get her down if she lost consciousness. But…

‘I’m saving my strength,’ Letty whispered.

‘You’re a woman with intelligence as well as courage,’ William said, and he met Meg’s gaze, and she thought…

She thought…

Yeah, well, there wasn’t a lot of use going down that path. Of all the inappropriate things to think right now. He looked lean and mean and dangerous. He had torn overalls, bloodstained chest, one arm bared. His expression was grim and focussed. He was totally intent on what he was doing. He looked… He looked…

She knew how he looked. She also knew how he was making her feel, and somehow it made things…

Scarier? That she’d decided she loved a man who was balanced on a crumbling ridge, with her injured grandmother in his arms and her little brother underneath, and if they fell…

Um…get a grip.

She gripped.

William was moving so slowly there was no risk of him overbalancing. He was shifting Letty a few inches at a time.

The wait was interminable.

‘I have you steady.’ It was Scott from underneath them. He’d climbed the first ladder and was holding the second.

This was safer-except it meant Scotty was right beneath her.

‘Scott…’ she started and she knew her voice quavered.

‘Scott’s fine. No one’s going to fall,’ William said. It was his ‘no one’s going home until this is sorted’ voice. Meg blinked. Okay, she couldn’t defy him on this one.

‘Letty, you need to trust us all,’ William said. ‘Meg will catch your legs while you find a footing on the ladder. She’ll be right under you, pressing you into the rungs. You’ll hold as best you can with one hand. That’s all you’ll need. Meg will be guiding your feet, holding you firm. Don’t release the first rung until you feel totally stable; stable enough to reach under for the next. If you can’t do it then stop until you feel you can. There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world.’

All the time in the world. Except Letty looked dreadful. If she fainted…

If she fainted then Meg would catch her and hold her and somehow get her down. No one’s going to fall. The guy in the bloodstained overalls had said so.

‘As soon as you have her I’ll slide down the ridge the way I came up,’ William said. ‘I’ll be beneath you.’

‘What, slide and jump?’ Meg retorted. ‘You want a broken leg? Scotty’s underneath and he’ll do any catching.’

‘I will,’ Scott said, and Meg looked up and met William’s gaze and saw agony. William McMaster depended on no one. For him to depend on a kid like Scott…

No choice. No one’s going to fall.

And somehow no one did. Somehow William got a limp and trembling Letty onto Meg’s ladder. Somehow Meg held her, guiding her every step of the way. Somehow they climbed down, rung after rung.

‘Women are awesome,’ Letty muttered as they reached the lower guttering and manoeuvred across to the next ladder. Meg even managed a smile.

‘You bet. You ready for the next bit, Grandma?’

‘Bring it on.’ Letty’s voice might be a thready whisper but her spirit was indomitable.

And then it was done. As they reached the ground Letty sagged but Scott was there. It was Scott who lifted his grandmother from the ladder. He had his Grandma in his arms, and then Meg was there, too, hugging them both.

And William was down, as well. He stood back, and Meg saw him over Letty’s head, and she reached out and tugged him in as well. Her big, bloodstained hero. Her boss.

William.

They hugged together. Sandwich squeeze, she’d called this when she was little, when the family was celebrating, or something dreadful had happened, or sometimes simply because they could. Because they were family.

And this felt the same. It felt… Family?

Except William wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t, so it shouldn’t hurt when he was the first to pull away.

It did. Even though he must.

‘Let’s have a look at that arm,’ William said in a voice that was none too steady, and she knew he was feeling the whole gamut of emotions she was feeling. Only maybe not the family one.

There was a woman called Elinor?

Letty’s knees had given completely. Scott brought cushions and blankets while Meg and William assessed the damage as best they could. Letty’s arm was bound tightly with William’s sleeve, but the crimson bloom was spreading.

‘I don’t think we should disturb it,’ William said. ‘Where’s the nearest hospital.’

‘I’m not going to hospital,’ Letty quavered and for an answer William simply scooped her up, blankets and all.

‘Car keys,’ he snapped at Meg. ‘You sit in the back seat with your grandmother. Scott, are you coming?’

Someone had turned into the drive. Mickey and his Dad, Meg thought, recognising the car, come to play with the Minis.

‘Maybe…maybe I should stay,’ Scott managed and then tried to get his voice down a quaver or two. ‘I…Mickey can help me clean up.’

That Letty hadn’t squeaked a second protest was scary, but William had her in his arms, heading for the car, and Meg could spare a moment to think things through. Scott loathed hospitals, for good reason. She could see he was torn. She needed to give him a reason to stay, and she had one. One pregnant cow.

‘I need you to keep an eye on Millicent,’ she said.

‘Why?’

‘She’s showing the first signs of calving.’

‘My Millicent…’ Letty squeaked over William’s shoulder.

‘Your Millicent,’ Meg retorted. ‘Who’s staying in the care of your grandson, and Mickey and Mickey’s Dad. There’s two for you and three for Millicent. So who’s arguing, Grandma?’

‘No one’s arguing,’ William said. ‘Let’s go.’