The Willows in Winter (4 page)

“All over?” he said sleepily, falling back and
curling up again, and remembering what a good time he had had.

“All finished,” said the Otter, coming and shaking
him by the shoulder. “Time to get up and clear this mess away and then we shall
go out and see what damage the blizzard’s done.
Portly’s
out already, for I can’t see him anywhere —”

“
Portly’s
out?” said
the Rat uneasily. Portly was not the kind of animal to get up early.

“That’s right’ said Otter casually, “and though
it’s not like him to be up and about before me, I suppose we did let ourselves
go a little, old chap — I’ll just go and call to him to pop back in again.

The Rat lay listening to his calls, and then to
his sudden scurrying about, no doubt to see what signs of Portly there were,
till he came back rather faster than he had left.

“No answer and no sign of him,” said the Otter
with concern, “and no tracks in the snow, as there ought to be!”

The Rat came frilly awake with a start. A dark
and troubling memory had come to him.

“I know that Portly went out
three days
ago,”
he said slowly, staring at Otter in alarm. “Or was it four?”

“But he came back,” said the Otter, not yet
quite fully troubled. “At least I thought he did.
Didn’t
he come back?”

“No, Otter, he didn’t come back! Don’t you
remember? I happened by here just as the first snow fell, and you invited me
in for some food and drink, and very hospitable of you that was. We got
somewhat merry and suggested that it would be nice if Mole were here to join
the fun. That — that — that errant son of yours suddenly upped and went off
saying ‘I’ll fetch him!’ and then, well, he never quite seemed to come back.”

“But if he didn’t come back we would have gone
to search for him,” said the Otter confidently. “We would not have come back
till we found him. Therefore, as we are here he must have been here this
morning. ‘When, waking before us, he very sensibly — and he
has
been
growing up a bit — went out to enjoy the winter sun.

“Except, as you said, there are no
tracks.”

“None,” said the Otter sombrely, his voice
trailing away as he looked about his home and saw that
Portly’s
bed had not been slept in.

“No, Otter’ continued the Water Rat, “you
thought
he had come back, because, well, not to put too fine a point on it, we all
know that you and your family are rather too partial to that sloe and
blackberry drink that Mole makes so well. When I suggested that Portly was not
here
you
said, ‘If he isn’t he soon will be, which is as good as being
here now!’ or words to that effect.
Since when we have both
been more or less asleep.”

“So
Portly’s
not here
now, and you think he has not been here for three days?” said the Otter
blankly.

“Three days and three nights.
Three very
blizzardy
days and nights.”

“
Hmmph
!” declared the
Otter as the two animals went out onto the bank and looked despondently about.

“Till we know where he is,” said the Otter, who
was now feeling a lot less bright and breezy than before, “we must conclude
that he is missing.”

“I hate to disagree, Otter, but I would prefer
it if you said ‘He is missing
again’.
He’s always missing, is Portly.
But, as usual, we’ll find him before long, and when we do I would wager my
rowing boat and sculls that he is somewhere very comfortable indeed.”

“Yes,” said the Otter, “very probably you’re
right. Perhaps I ought to just —” He wandered off calling “Portly! Are you
there!” rather quietly at
first.
Then, as he came
back, having wandered one way up the bank and then the other, the Rat heard him
shout rather more forcibly, “Portly!
Portly!”

“Well,” Otter said rather tersely when he
reached the entrance to his home again, “he’s not anywhere.”

“And there are no tracks in the snow further
off?”

“None,” said the Otter.

“
Which means he
did
leave
some time ago,” said the Rat darkly, adding, with considerable misgiving, “and,
look, the river’s almost frozen over.

“You don’t think
— ?
”
began the Otter with real alarm.

“I think Portly is capable of almost any
foolishness,” said the Rat grimly. “The number of times — I mean the trouble he
has caused — and not wishing to be hard, but, well, let us be frank. A sensible
animal, if he went out looking for Mole, would not try to cross that river. No,
he would come straight home. But Portly is not sensible. So — having reached
the river, I greatly fear he said to
himself
, ‘Across
it I shall go!’

“We must search for him!” cried the Otter.

“Yes,” said the Rat, “I’m afraid we must. He
will, of course, be absolutely safe but our minds must be put to rest. It seems
to me, Otter, that this must be the last time, and positively the last, that we
animals should go searching for your son. He will never become a sensible
otter if every time he is scatter-brained we come to the rescue.

“I have spoilt him,” said the Otter miserably,
“and that is the truth. But bringing him up alone as I was forced to do,
struggling to find food enough for both of us, striving to teach him manners
and common sense, well, it was not easy. Bachelors like you and Mole and Mr
Badger have it easy compared to those of us who bear the full responsibility
of—”

“Otter!” said the Water Rat in a commanding
way, not liking this kind of talk. “Enough! Let us go and find the wretched
animal, and let us hope you will box his ears for him, or something or other
that will teach him not to cause his father such concern, and his father’s
friends such trouble. But don’t worry, the sun is shining now and all will be
well!”

And yet, as the two friends set off, the Rat
could not help feeling that all was not well, not well at all. It was the River
that told him this, the River which none knew better than he. ‘What Otter had
said was
true,
he was a bachelor, with few cares in
the world. But though he lived alone, he had often thought that it was the
River who was his friend and his mate. He knew her moods, he knew her ways, and
when she whispered to him, as she whispered ominously now down where the ice
stopped and the water flowed, and there where the wind-broken sedges rasped in
the winter breeze, he heard a warning voice which said, “Beware! Trouble ahead!
All is not well!”

“I think we ought to hurry,” said the Rat
presently,
whiffling
his snout at the river wind, “if
we are not already too late.”

“Rat!” whispered Otter, very much alarmed.
“‘What’s wrong? There
is
something wrong, isn’t there? The river’s not
right — I know it’s not.
You
know too, for you know it best of all.”

“No,” said the Rat, “she’s not right, not right
at all. Come on, Otter, we must make for Mole End as fast as we can, because
that’s where Portly was going to. Mole will have some news for us, I’m sure.

“We could swim across,” said the Otter
doubtfully “No!” said Rat firmly “We’ll go the long way round. Swimming across
is
not
a good idea. ‘We’ll go by the bridge.”

“But that’s miles and miles —”

“It may be,” said the Rat, setting off at a
rapid pace, “but where the river is concerned, prudence is the watchword!”

The winter’s afternoon was already drawing in, and the snow underfoot
growing crisp and icy, when they finally reached Mole’s little home. The
familiar door, the neatly painted “Mole End”, the very tree itself about which
the Mole’s modest place was made, all spoke of comfort and safety.

“But no light,” muttered the Rat grimly, “no
sign of life at all. It’s not like Mole to go far in winter, unless it’s to
come and see me.

“Maybe he’s asleep,” declared the Otter.
“But look, Ratty!
He can’t be far!”

The door was ajar and leading from it were what
looked like the fresh prints of Mole’s galoshes. Rat put his paw to the door
and pushed it open, though being a cautious animal he did not go straight in.

“It’s not like him to leave his door open.
Mole! Are you there?” he called out. “This doesn’t look good, Otter.”

“It does not, Ratty,” said Otter, who was a
reliable animal in such situations, as he pulled himself up to his fullest
height alongside the Water Rat.

“Listen!” whispered the Rat, peering into the
murky interior.

They heard a sniffle, then a snuffle, then a
bleat, and finally a sob.

“That’s sounds like Portly!” said Otter going
straight in. “No doubt about it!” There was relief in his voice, but
consternation as well.

“‘Where are you, Portly? Show yourself.”

The sobbing grew louder as the Rat joined the
Otter in the parlour and looked about to see where Portly was.

“You would think that Mole would have had the
sense to light a candle or two,” said the Otter.

“Mole’s not here,” said a tremulous voice from
the direction of Mole’s favourite armchair. “Mole went out and didn’t come
back.”

They found Portly at last, huddled beneath
Mole’s winter plaid, staring forlornly into a long-dead fire.

“Now listen, Portly,” began the Otter in a very
stern voice, “something’s going on and we want to know what it is!”

Portly began to sob even more.

“Leave this to me,” said the Rat, who, for all
his fine words about discipline and proper behaviour was a kindly, soft-hearted
animal when he saw others in distress. “You light a candle and get the fire
going and let me talk to Portly —”Now, old chap, why don’t you tell me exactly
what has happened and where Mole’s gone, and where that Nephew of his has
disappeared to.”

“But that’s just it,” said Portly, “I don’t
exactly know. You see —
Then
, as the Otter bustled
about setting out some candles, clearing the grate and then setting the fire
ablaze once more, Portly told his sorry tale.

“So, to sum it all up,” said the Rat finally as
the Otter offered them a warming drink, “instead of telling Mole we had thought
he might join us for the evening — which being a sensible animal and seeing the
blizzard on its way he would have realized was not a good idea —instead of
that,
you somehow made him think that Otter or I or both of us were in trouble?”

“Yes,” conceded Portly.

“And needed help?”

“Yes,” repeated Portly more quietly.

“Then being the Mole he is, which is to say
always concerned about his friends before himself, he put on his coat and set
off alone into the snowy night
three nights ago.

“Yes,” said Portly, more quietly still.

“Then a short time ago you awoke as his Nephew,
concerned for his uncle as all nephews should be, was likewise setting off into
the cold, leaving you here snug and safe.”

“Not
very
snug,” said Portly in a very
quiet voice indeed.

“Snug enough,” scowled the Rat, who might now
have been inclined to be
more harsh
had Otter not been
there.

“He only went an hour or so ago. I
did
offer
to go with him but he said to stay here in case you came.”

“Sensible,” said the Otter.

“He also said to tell any animal that came that
he would first go down to the river opposite your home, Mr Rat, because he
thought that was the way Mr Mole would have gone.

“Sensible again,” said the Otter. “More
sensible than some I can think of.”

“Very much more so,” said the Rat darkly He
frowned and thought for a moment and put down his drink only half finished.

“I think, Otter, we had better be going right
away It’s still light outside but the days are growing very short.”

“Can I come?” asked Portly.

“No you can’t,” said the Otter. “You stay here
and keep that fire burning. No, on second thoughts, just stay here and don’t
touch anything.”

“It’s lonely by
myself
,”
said Portly.

“Yes,” said the Rat pitilessly, “I daresay it
is.
Now, Otter, to work!”

The Water Rat was at his very best in a crisis
and in no time at all had gathered together all the provisions he thought they
might need in the course of what could turn out to be a cold and difficult few
hours: some food wrapped up in grease-proof paper; some warming sloe juice; a
flint and candles; and some spare clothing.

“The only thing I can’t see is Mole’s lantern,
which he must have taken with him, so we’ll have to make do with a jam jar if
we can find one —Then, with the ‘Water Rat carrying the bag of provisions over
his shoulder, the two animals set off once more, giving final instructions to
Portly to stay exactly where he was and to keep the candle burning at the
window so Mole End could more easily be found in the dark.