The Last Train Home

Chapter Seven

"I think you've got a good one there," Mr Thompson said, nudging his head towards me. "She's probably better at putting up a fence than Alec, and he's been doing it all his life."

"The hammer slipped! It's not my fault." Alec pouted. He had smacked his own thumb with a hammer whilst trying to attach a beam to a post. Mrs Goodwin had given him a cloth full of ice and a bandage, meaning he had to sit out the fence construction.

"'Course it did, son." Mr Thompson laughed.

Mr Thompson lifted one of the beams and held it against the post so Mr Goodwin could hammer the nails in place. After almost two hours, we had reached the final stretch of the fence and with Alec out of action, I had been instructed to pass nails to them. We had split the fence in half with Alec and I going one way, and Mr Thompson and Mr Goodwin going the other so we could meet in the middle. By the time we made it that far, Alec had managed to his own thumb with the hammer and was out of action.

Not that he had been that much help to begin with. He couldn't hold the beam steady for me to put my nails in and complained every few minutes about a splinter that had embedded itself in his finger. For someone who had grown up on a farm and had spent his entire life building and working with a hammer, he wasn't all that good at it.

I watched them hammer the last few nails in place, completing the fence and taking a step back to look at it. With any luck, it wouldn't need to be repaired for a year, maybe even two.

"That should do it. One fence down, a million more to go," Mr Goodwin said.

"What should we do with the old wood?" I asked, dropping the extra nails back into the tool bag.

"It can be used for firewood, I think. It'll need chopping up, mind."

"I'll do it!" Alec exclaimed, jumping from the back of the wagon.

"You're not going anywhere near an axe, my boy. Your mum will kill me if you lose a hand."

Alec huffed and leant back against the wagon in defeat. Mr Thompson laughed at his son and started to gather up the old wood. Between the three of us, we managed to lug the wood out of the field and place it under a small, flat roof around the side of the house. With any luck, it would dry before winter and would make some great firewood without having to go to much effort, other than the chopping, of course.

I lifted several of the beams over my shoulder and dropped them onto the pile, ignoring the slithers of wood that showered me when I lifted them. My fingertips were now mainly splinters, but it didn't bother me and I was happy to be of some assistance when it came to not only putting up the fence but helping clean up afterwards. Even Alec managed to lift some of the wood down to the cover, although it was a broken piece and he only carried one half.

"We might be able to get a good chunk of the farm ready before Winter hits," Mr Goodwin said.

"Well, if you need any more hands, I can send Alec over." He paused. "I should say if you need an extra hand."

Mr Thompson lifted the last plank of wood onto the pile and looked at Alec who pulled a face and started picking at the loose threads on his bandage. The bandage looked a little dramatic since he would probably just have a bruise on his thumb that would fade in a few days. Maybe it was just Mrs Goodwin being a little over-cautious since Alec was a gust, but it did look stupid; he reminded me of a cartoon character I had seen in the pictures once.

Once the wood had been stacked, we walked back up to the hill to the field where the wagon and tractor were parked. Mr Thompson lifted his toolbox onto the back of the wagon and leant up against it. Alec copied his actions and even went as far as to push his sleeves up his arms and pretend to be straightening a cap he wasn't even wearing. I smirked but quickly rearranged my face when I caught Mrs Goodwin staring at me. Not even putting up a fence could melt the ice-queen.