Daisy and Bobby followed. When the doctor helped Grandma into a fireside chair, her eyes closed. Aunt Pat sat beside her. ‘Th…thank you everyone for helping us,’ she stammered, her lips blue with cold. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I thought we would turn into blocks of ice.’
‘And so you might if these two children hadn’t raised the alarm,’ said Mr Webber.
‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’ Mrs Webber began to unravel a pile of blankets.
Mr Webber gently took Daisy’s shoulder. ‘Come along, you can see your folks later.’
In the kitchen, the farmer warmed his big red hands by the oven. ’That house was colder than an iceberg. The pipes are frozen and the stove is dead as a doornail. If you hadn’t found me when you did, there’s no saying what might have happened.’
Daisy sniffed back her tears and looked at Bobby. His cheeks were very pale. She knew he too had been shocked at the sight of Grandma.
It seemed a long wait before the doctor appeared. ‘I’m afraid the cold went to your grandmother’s chest,’ he explained. ‘She’ll need nursing, which Edith has offered to undertake.’
‘As for you two,’ said the farmer, ‘you can stay until your parents come.’
Daisy forced back the tears.
‘Don’t be upset, my dear,’ consoled the doctor. ‘Your grandmother is strong and will be in the best of care.’
But this was no consolation for Daisy. She loved Grandma dearly and didn’t want her to be ill.
That night, Mr and Mrs Webber made up beds on the parlour floor. ‘I hope you’ll be comfortable, my dears. Your Grandma and aunt are sleeping in the spare room. A good night’s rest is what everyone needs.’
‘I’m up early to tend the cows,’ said Mr Webber. ‘To sing ‘em their favourite tunes.’
‘Do cows like songs?’ Daisy asked incredulously.
‘No doubt that,’ said the farmer. ‘They give the best milk with a dash of Harry Lauder’s Roamin’ in the Gloamin’ or Georgie Leybourne’s Champagne Charlie.’
‘Take no notice,’ Mrs Webber dismissed. ‘Mr Webber enjoyed a mis-spent youth in the music halls see? That’s why all the cows have got names. Like Vesta ‘cos she’s so sassy just like her namesake Vesta Tilley.’
‘Nothing wrong with music halls, love,’ argued Mr Webber good-naturedly. ‘Not if you’ve got a voice like mine.’
Daisy and Bobby were nearly deafened as Mr Webber bellowed out a chorus from a song called, The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze.
‘Out of the way, Caruso,’ commanded Mrs Webber, pushing her husband aside. ‘Now these should fit you,’ said the farmer’s wife and handed them sets of striped pyjamas. ‘They belonged to our children, Mark and Susan.’
‘Where are they now?’ asked Daisy, growing more and more curious about this very nice couple who had so many hidden talents and colourful family history.
‘All grown up, dear, with kiddies of their own.’
‘I’ve left a pail in the passage for you to wee in,’ said Mr Webber. ‘Make sure you don’t kick it over.’
‘Goodnight and sleep well,’ said Mrs Webber, closing the door.
‘It’s getting cold now the fire’s going out,’ said Bobby as he quickly stripped down to his vest and pants, put on his pyjamas and crawled under the covers.
But Daisy was thinking about other things. Grandma’s house would be dark and empty without them. How many icicles would grow over the windows? Like Sleeping Beauty’s castle, everything was frozen in a wintry spell.
‘Hurry up, Daisy,’ called Bobby, ‘and get into bed.’
Daisy undressed and put on her pyjamas. ‘These are much too big for me.’
‘Who cares? You’re not going anywhere.’
She pulled back the blanket. ’When the sun shines will it un-freeze Grandma’s?’
‘Not much chance of that,’ said Bobby, his teeth chattering. ‘Mr Webber says there’s worse to come.’
‘How does he know that?’
‘The cows all lay down in the field.’
‘Do cows know when it’s bad weather, too?’
‘Mr Webber says so.’
Daisy shivered and pulled the covers up to her chin. ‘I hope the cows are just tired. And Mr Webber sings them the songs they like.’
Bobby laughed. ‘Your turn to switch off the light.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you were last in bed.’
Daisy didn’t want to get out. It was so cold that even in the warmth of the parlour she could see her breath.
‘Where’s Bobby?’ Daisy asked Mrs Webber the next morning when she came down to breakfast.
‘He’s helping Bill with the cows.’
‘He must have got up early.’
‘On a farm everyone gets up early,’ said Mrs Webber. ‘Eat up now before your breakfast goes cold. That’s real oats with proper dairy milk. You won’t have tasted anything better.’
‘It’s delicious,’ Daisy said enthusiastically.
‘Cows have got their uses.’
‘I wish we didn’t have to go to school today and could stay home and help you.’
Mrs Webber turned from the sink and smiled. ‘Careful what you wish for, dear. Postie said the school is closed because of bad weather.’
‘That’s good!’ Daisy exclaimed but corrected herself quickly. ‘It’s not that I don’t like school, but I have to look after the babies.’
Mrs Webber tutted. ‘Oh, dearie me. You’re supposed to be learning an’ all.’
‘Pops was disappointed when I told him I hadn’t learnt a thing.’
Mrs Webber chuckled. ‘I remember your dad. Worked as the manager for Wattcombe estate.’
‘He’s got a factory now and invents things. ’
‘My word!’ Mrs Webber bustled about the kitchen. ‘Good job we’ve got brainy people like him to see us through the war.’
Daisy had almost forgotten about the war. It was spoken of so infrequently in Wattcombe that it seemed unreal. That was, until they’d seen the planes fly over.
Daisy took her empty bowl to the sink. ’Do you think Mother and Pops will come to collect us?’
‘Doctor wrote a letter to ‘em dear,’ Mrs Webber replied. ‘Meanwhile, there’s plenty to do on the farm. You can help me gather the eggs first.’
‘I’d like that. I used to help Mother collect eggs when we lived here. We only had a few chicken in the back garden and they all had names.
