It was a cold day in February. The weatherman had promised cold and a possibility of snow in the night, and Richard White (or Rick, as his friends called him) had gone to his grandparents' village for the day. He didn't want to be caught in a snowstorm, if there was going to be any snow, so he'd left the car at home and caught the early train. Then he took a local bus, and when he arrived it was still morning. He went to the local pub for lunch first and then he took in the sights of the village. He visited the church, and found his grandparents' graves in the churchyard, and he quite enjoyed himself notwithstanding the cold. It actually grew colder as the day progressed; when he arrived the village pond had still been open but now there was a thin, smooth layer of ice on top.
Rick had retired from work a few months earlier; an old aunt of his had left him enough money to make do with the pension he would get, and he'd considered that it would be alright to call it a day. There were heaps of things he had not been able to do while his wife was still alive, and he didn't want to wait until he was too old. Visiting the places connected with his family's history was one of those, and it felt good to be walking there.
He went back to the pub for a drink. The village was rather remote -- it was one of those one bus there, one bus back places and he did not want to miss it, so he leisurely made his way back to the bus stop at an early moment.
The route took him down to the village pond first. There were no people to be seen; he supposed everyone had gone in for the cold. He'd almost rounded one half of the pond when he heard someone shout, and a wheelchair came crashing though a dry hedge. It narrowly missed hitting him and went straight into the pond, rider and all. He heard the ice crack and most of the contraption disappeared under water.
Rick didn't hesitate for a moment; he threw off his coat and ran into the pond. The cold hit him like a sledgehammer, and he tripped over something someone must have thrown in one time or other. Lovely, he thought. Just what I needed. Wet through, he waded through the muddy pond; stirred by his feet the water sent up an unpleasant smell. It took him quite some time and effort to extract the wheelchair from the mud; its rider sat mumbling and didn't really cooperate.
Meanwhile the bus had dropped a couple of people at the local bus stop and driven on. One of the passengers witnessed the second part of his efforts. She looked at it in disbelief at first. It couldn't old Mr O'Brien again? But it was.
When Rick finally reached dry ground again he took his coat and put it round the man's shoulders. Then he was hailed by the woman, who had stood watching the procedure.
"I'll show you where to take him," she said, "Mr O'Brien's generally too vague to do so himself."
They walked up the road together and after a short while she said, "Here it is."
She walked up to the front door to knock, but the door was thrown open before she had reached it, and a middle-aged woman came out. "You old fool!" she shouted at the old man. She took the wheelchair from Rick's hands, unceremoniously dumped Rick's coat on the frozen path, wheeled Mr O'Brien inside without another word and slammed the door to.
The woman indignantly looked at her vanishing form.
"There's gratitude for you," she said. "That's his daughter-in-law. Are you new here?"
"I was only round for the day," Rick said. He had difficulty keeping his jaws steady; his wet clothes seemed to be getting stiff. "B-b-but I'm afraid I've m-missed my bus. Is there a p-p-place -" His teeth were chattering with cold.
"You come with me," she said. "We're not all of us beastly in this village."
She led him along as fast as he could go. "It's only a quarter mile," she said. "Can you manage?"
He nodded.
At her place she opened the door of the porch and pushed him inside. "My," she said, "you don't half smell! Ok, then, could you leave those clothes here? I will go and run the bath."
When she returned Rick was still struggling with his buttons.
"I'm sorry," he stammered, but -"
"Oh dear," she said. "Let me do it."
It took her some time, too, as the temperature in the porch wasn't any better than the one outside, but she managed to help him out of his clothes, which were left in a smelly heap on the tiles of the porch.
"Ok," she said, "off to the bath with you. I can't have you die of hypothermia on me. Lord, look at hose tiles. It's a good thing I've got a downstairs bathroom."
She led him on to the bathroom and helped him get in the bath. She looked at him with some interest. "My," she said. "My husband used to be small, but you..."
"That's nature's defence mechanisms," he tried to say, but she didn't quite get it.
"Hush now," she said. "I'm going to wash you. That's a long time ago..."
She remembered washing her children with a smile.
She washed every part of him. He had been covered in mud and the smell of the stagnant pond water was all over him. He was too cold to really enjoy it; even when she pushed back his foreskin and washed his private parts it didn't make an impact. But he truly appreciated her efforts, and he liked her face. She had soft grey eyes and a lovely smile.
"Will you be alright for a moment?" she said. "I'd like to sort out your clothes."
"Yes, I will," he said.
She went back to the porch and surveyed the wreckage. His winter coat was covered in green slime and algae inside. She emptied the pockets and put the contents aside. Then she went through his trousers and his jacket, and put the items she could wash into the washing machine.
Then she collected some pieces of clothing and returned to the bathroom. She went in to find her charge had recuperated a little.
"Good," she said. "Getting a little warmer?"
"Yes, thank you," he said. "My name's Rick, Rick White. My grandparents used to live here."
"Oh," she said. "Old Maynard White, he was? I remember him well. Nice man."
"Yes," Rick said. "That's him."
"I'm Claire," she said. "Er, I've just put some of your things in the washing machine, but I would ruin your jacket and your coat. I'll have to take them to the dry cleaners, and I'm afraid you'll be stuck with me for a little time. And what's more -" she hesitated for a moment - "I am rather smaller than you, and I have no men's clothes lying about. So I've selected my roomiest panties and a big cardigan for you, and a pair of tights -- I hope you don't mind."
"I could wrap myself in a blanket, too" Rick suggested.
"And go naked under that? I don't think so," she said. "Oh, and are there any people that have to be told?"
"No," Rick said. "There's no one there."
She looked at the ring on his hand. "You're a widower?" she said.
"Yes," he said. "My wife died of a congenital heart disease."
She nodded. "I'll leave you to get dressed," she said, and put the clothes and a towel on the edge of the washbasin.
