THE PUB IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE by Dominic Bell (1st place, Prompt Jun22)

I should not have set off. Twenty-five mile an hour winds, strengthening to forty-five, sleet turning to snow later. But the next place I was staying was booked and paid, and only nine miles, an easy to medium walk, the book said. Three hours at most. Powered by my full English I could slog my way there before it got bad. It would be a challenge. Something to boast about. Plus there was a pub half way for a break.

I walked out from the B & B into sharp cold. Initially some woods briefly sheltered me, but two miles on I left them again and I was walking straight into the wind, my head lowered against the driving sleet. The sky darkened from grey to nearly black and then came hail, battering at my face, rattling on my waterproof, the wind strengthening, keening around me. The hail started to lie, a white carpet that hid the barren hillside, made it increasingly difficult for my sore eyes to pick out the way. Fear grew within me and I hesitated, then pressed on, knowing the pub was just over the hill, another half mile perhaps.

The hail turned to snow, the world fading to a few metres around me. It intensified, the world becoming a thousand whirling flakes, every direction the same. I stumbled on rocks repeatedly, only stayed on the track by luck, reached the top of the long slope up and the wind howled triumphantly at me. Everything was white, the snow settling fast, blowing into little dunes that were starting to hide everything with a sculpted blanket of white. I pushed on, leaning into the wind that slowed me to a slow trudge, the hail returning to attack me again, so that when the pub finally came into view, only a few metres away,  the relief almost overwhelmed me. I stumbled to the door and opened it.

Or tried to. It was locked. But there were lights on. I banged at the door. A pause and then it opened. A woman much my age stood there with an aggressive look on her face.

‘We’re closed Tuesdays this time of the year,’ she said. ‘But looking at the state of you you’d better come in.’

I followed her languid walk into warmth, the crackle of a fire. She looked me up and down. She was exactly the kind of woman I would have liked to have impressed, but she obviously was not. Her words confirmed that.

‘You’re a fool to be walking on a day like this. Not even waterproof trousers. Did you not think to consult the weather forecast?’ She shook her head. ‘I suppose you went for a walk in the snow once and now think you’re some kind of winter survival expert?’

This was far too close to the truth, so I just nodded.

‘Stupid, I know. But I had a hotel booked and thought if I made it here I call a taxi.’

‘Taxi! The road ‘s already blocked. It’s a one in five up here, you know. If you’re lucky the snow will stop overnight and you’ll make it tomorrow. But it’ll be on foot.’ For the first time she looked vaguely sympathetic.

‘Look, get your rucksack and coat off, and sit down on that stool by the fire.’ 

I peeled off my sodden gloves and hat, hung my coat on a chair to dry. I sat on the stool, holding my numb hands out to the warmth. I could not stop shivering. It had been far too close a thing.

She went off and returned with a pair of trousers.

‘My Dad’s. Put your own to dry.’

She disappeared again, to return with a mug of sweet tea and a piece of cake.

‘Get that inside you.’

As I recovered she told me how she was looking after the pub while her parents were away on holiday.

‘You’re lucky,’ I said. ‘Being here in these great stone walls, all secure and comfortable while the wind howls and the fire roars is amazing. I love it.’

She looked at me oddly. ‘Not many would say that. It’s a beautiful place, and the trade good in the summer. What do you do yourself?’

‘I’m a geologist by training, but I do data analysis now. You?’

‘Trained up in hospitality management, and since then been working all over. Other remote pubs mostly, seeing how they do it. But I’ll be taking over soon enough. My parents have got their eye on a little house down in the town.’

‘You’re lucky,’ I said again.

‘You think so,’ she said. ‘It can be a lonely business, you know. But yeah, its a good place.’

Later she made us both food, washed down with good beer. We talked for a long time of the Dales before she showed me to my room.

She woke me at dawn.

‘Snow’s stopped. Your best chance is now. ’

I looked out. The snow lay deep and crisp, the wind less now, grey clouds flicking past in a pale pink winter dawn. I dressed quickly.

‘Thanks for everything.’

She nodded. ‘Pleasure. Drop by if you’re ever passing this way again.’

‘I will.’

I walked a little way, the sky palest blue now, feeling the hills and sky and the whole world around me. Then a clarity came and with it a sense of deep peace, a knowledge of what I should do.

I walked back, knocked on the door.

She opened it.

‘Forget something?’

‘Just wondering if you do work experience.’

She regarded me, frowning.

‘It’ll be unpaid for the first week. Then five pounds an hour and your keep. But no choosing what you will and won’t do.’

‘Sounds good,’ I said. ‘Can I start right away?’

‘Breakfast first,’ she said and smiled.