Screw Pile Developments

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The Harvest

Harvest was the time of year that needed all paws and hands to help. The boys were eager to help and Grandpa Jake had allocated the boys different areas of responsibility. In the large kitchen garden one group helped to dig potatoes, pull carrots and collect pumpkins. Another group harvested the very last of the beans and tomatoes.

Then there was the orchard. The summer peaches had finished, but now the apples were ready. All the boys were needed to help. They climbed up and down ladders, picking apples from the highest branches, filling their picking bags. It was quickly established that Angus and Fergus were a liability attempting to carry a loaded basket of apples, as more than one load ended up back on the ground. Fergus also developed a mysterious stomach ache, probably something to do with eating more apples than he actually put in the basket.

Hamish followed behind Seb and the other boys, carefully picking up every apple that was accidentally dropped and placing them into his basket with both paws, as if they were as delicate as an egg. By the end of each row his basket was full.

The main harvest ran across a week and for several days after. The chill of autumn had arrived, and the leaves on the trees had turned various shades of gold, yellow and red.

Every morning Seb would be up and gone before breakfast, out in the orchard working hard. He was often the last to come back in at the end of the day. Rebecca saw to it that he did not miss out on his breakfast.

Charlie was only too pleased to help. Since arriving at Headwall, he had made it his personal responsibility to ensure that his friends were all well fed and would never be left hungry ever again.

For Seb the work was therapy. He found that when his hands were busy, and he had something physical to do, he did not need to think about all the unpleasant uninvited things that would arrive in his mind — those times when he was quiet, in bed at night, or not doing anything in particular.

For the whole harvest, Seb loaded, carried, climbed and picked. The faster he worked, the less he needed to think. The noise of his darkest thoughts quieted.

Grandpa Jake saw it all, Seb working from dawn till dusk. He knew that Seb was not ready to talk, and he was not going to force that door.

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The Swing

At the edge of the orchard a swing hung from one of the largest trees. It soon became an established ritual, that Seb would push Hamish on the swing before he would go back inside at the end of the day. Of course Angus and Fergus got their fair or more than fair share of swing time, but Hamish would simply refuse to go back inside until Seb had given him his swing.

Hamish tapped the bottom of Seb’s pants with his little paw, as Seb climbed down the ladder with yet another picking bag full of apples.

For Seb, he was happy to oblige. Pushing Hamish on the swing meant that his hands were still occupied and doing something. With busy hands, and listening to Hamish’s delighted laughter, meant that it was less likely unwanted thoughts would intrude. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Seb had just finished giving Hamish his ‘one hundred pushes’ and the swing was slowing down and coming to a stop.

Seb gave Hamish another small push.

Another push, just a small one.

Seb had stopped pushing and the swing was slowing down again.

The swing had stopped and Hamish hopped off. He ran to Seb with his arms out. Seb accepted and hugged him back.

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The Arrival

The main push of the harvest was done. The potatoes, carrots, onions and pumpkins had been placed in one of the natural caves deep in the headwall. The caves would remain at a constant temperature, even through the cold winter months.

Rebecca along with Charlie’s help had been busy preserving both fruit and vegetables to ensure that the cave larder was fully stocked for winter. There was something else that Charlie had been helping Rebecca make, something that made him giddy with pleasure. Cheese. Headwall Cheese, made from the milk of the station’s own cows. The rounds would be placed in the caves to mature, again at the constant natural temperature that the caves afforded. The first time Charlie had been in there, and laid his eyes on the multiple rounds sitting on their shelves, he just about fainted on the spot. Yes. He was officially, categorically in cheese heaven.

The day of the Harvest Dinner had arrived. The air was cool and crisp, and the wood-smoke from the homestead chimneys hung gently in the air. Since early that morning both Rebecca and Charlie had been cooking. The Harvest Dinner would be testament to all that The Station had given them, from the trays of roast vegetables to the lamb roasted on a bed of rosemary and seasoned just right. Dessert would be a massive apple crumble, with jugs of thick station cream and golden yellow custard. The apples had also been pressed to make fresh apple juice and a gently brewed cider.

Late afternoon, a vehicle made its way slowly up the valley road. It contained a single occupant.

General Marvin Huxley.

Jake, who had been keeping one of his ears swivelled toward the road, heard the vehicle before he saw it. He walked out to the yard ready to meet his guest just as Huxley stepped out of the vehicle. He was dressed in a navy turtleneck, and smart navy trousers, with a good leather belt and properly polished shoes. His posture, however, remained the same as always, upright, military and proper. Jake clocked the turtleneck immediately. Arctic. This was a Hunde, whose idea of dressing in civilian clothes was to take off an arctic jacket and call it done.

Two small torpedoes were then detected coming from the house. They impacted his neatly pressed left trouser leg simultaneously and at full velocity.

Exactly one half second later Hamish very quietly wrapped both his arms around his right leg and did not let go.

Huxley’s tail then did something very undignified. It oscillated at a frequency that was most certainly non-regulation.

Both Jake and Huxley exchanged glances and did something complicated with their ears that told each all that they needed to know about the situation.

A short while later, Grandma Bella and Rebecca came out to greet Huxley. Already disarmed by the pups, his shoulders relaxed just a little more.

As Rebecca greeted Huxley, she immediately saw what he was wearing, the Arctic navy turtle-neck. From Earth.

Images of Lucas, Eugene and James flashed through her mind, wearing the same navy turtleneck. Rebecca quietly excused herself back to the kitchen, she needed a moment, and distracted herself and her shaky paws with a very large bowl of crumble mix.

Huxley, who had somehow managed to detach the limpet mines still clinging to his legs, walked to the house and around the front to the verandah with Jake. They took in the valley and a few quiet moments alone together.

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The Verandah

Jake went on to mention things about the other boys, in particular Rupert, who had learned to use Grandma Bella’s sewing machine.

Huxley and Jake exchanged amused looks.

Huxley nodded once, acknowledging the report.

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Before Dinner — Living Room

Huxley was meeting the boys, who had started to drift down stairs in hopes of dinner, or at least some of the pre dinner nibbles that Rebecca had laid out. Huxley worked through the room, showing genuine interest in each boy, asking them questions about their interests and what they liked doing.

Huxley was speaking with Lewis.

Huxley nodded in approval.

Huxley moved on to Samson and asked about the pump.

Samson looked very pleased with the affirmation.

And so it went, around the room as each boy arrived in the living room and was introduced by Grandpa Jake. All the boys had arrived inside an hour ago, all that is, except one. Grandpa Jake dispatched Daan to go look for him.

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The Woodpile

Daan heard him before he saw him. The steady fall of the axe had been carrying across the yard for the better part of the afternoon.

Thwack, thwack, thwack.

The woodshed behind was now looking considerably fuller than it had been earlier in the afternoon. The wood had been stacked meticulously, making efficient use of every available space. The sun had just slipped below distant line of mountains and the golden light had faded, bringing the evening chill.

The axe came down one more time.

Seb straightened up and looked at the woodshed, and then at the remaining pile.

Seb set the axe in the block and pulled off his work gloves. He looked at his hands, they were rough and a little red from the cold. He shrugged on his jacket and followed Daan inside.

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Huxley and Seb

Seb arrived in the living room, hands washed but still in his work clothes and the odd stray wood chip still in his hair.

Huxley looked across the room at Seb. He saw the same spiky dark hair, the same jaw and the same eyes. The same familiar features of James that he had recognised on the Chasetail, he saw again now.

Huxley re-deployed himself across the room.

At the mention of his father Seb became very still, and he looked at the floor.

Seb almost smiled at his weak joke, but the clouds in his mind soon reformed.

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The Harvest Dinner

A table set for twenty-one. Jake at his usual place at the head and Huxley just to his right at the end of the bench. Hamish had conducted a stealth manoeuvre and had claimed the spot to Huxley’s right. Seb, who had found a seat on the opposite side of the table noticed Hamish’s repositioning, and felt a tiny fleeting pang.

Angus and Fergus both arrived at the table together. Angus immediately claimed a sliver of bench space to Huxley’s left, with his butt half on and half off the very end. Fergus assessed the situation and staged his own intervention. He found a small three legged stool and placed it right on the corner of the table between Grandpa Jake and Huxley. Huxley and Jake exchanged glances, their ears communicating their amusement.

The table was an autumn abundance, loaded with all the fruits of the harvest.

Grandpa Jake stood, raised his glass and tapped it a couple of times with his fork, before placing it back. The room fell silent.

He waved his paw across the table.

With that, the meal began.

During the meal Hamish turned to Huxley and patted his arm.

Huxley stopped eating and gave Hamish his full attention.

Huxley’s tail again broke from regulation.

The dinner continued, with the warm conversation that comes of friendship and family, both old and new.

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The Leaving

The night sky was clear, so after dinner Lewis had shown Huxley the telescope. Together they were able to confirm that Betelgeuse was still there and had not gone super-nova.

Hamish and Fergus had been carried up to bed, however, Angus, while declaring that he was not tired, was also asleep halfway up the stairs.

Rebecca appeared from the kitchen with a package, and handed it to Huxley at the door.

Huxley looked at the package, and looked back at Rebecca and nodded once.

It was time for Huxley to leave, but not before he had spoken again with each one of the boys. Just a brief word or two of acknowledgement or encouragement. He came to Seb, pausing for a moment before speaking. He looked him directly in the eye.

It was time to leave and the lights of Huxley’s vehicle soon disappeared around the bend in the road.

At the end of the road he stopped, and walked over to another vehicle the same as his and tapped on the window. The window rolled down and he passed the package through. Inside were two warm meals, and something sweet.

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Headwall Station

Back at the homestead the house had settled, with one light left on in the kitchen.

Always.