When Sam and Glenys, closely following the two children, burst into the kitchen at Weathercock Farm, they received a grand welcome. ‘We realised you must have taken shelter during that blizzard, for how on earth you managed to reach Mrs Buttermilk’s we could not imagine,’ Nain said. ‘As soon as it was light Taid fought his way to the Evans farm to telephone her from there, only the lines were down so he got no response. We were just talking over what best to do when the children came panting in to say you were on their heels.’ She turned to Glenys. ‘I take it Mrs Buttermilk gave Sam a bed for the night?’

Glenys began to speak, but Sam overruled her. ‘We got hopelessly lost, to tell you the truth,’ he said frankly, ‘so we took shelter in a cottage. I couldn’t tell you where it was save that it was sheep country. I hope Mrs Buttermilk wasn’t worried; with any luck she will assume that Glenys and the children found their relatives and stayed with them, but when the telephone wires are restored I’ll ring her from the Evanses’ to set her mind at rest. I’ll ring Frank, too, and let him know their story has had a happy ending!’

‘There we are then; everything settled,’ Nain said placidly. She looked at her dressing gown-clad guests. ‘Sit yourselves down; you must be starving indeed. And Taid and I have a suggestion to make.’ She turned to Glenys. ‘I know you’re a schoolteacher and I know you want a proper job, but whilst this dreadful weather lasts you have little option but to remain with us and I can tell you we need all the help we can get.’ She smiled at her husband, already seated at the table and about to address a large plate of bacon and eggs. ‘Considering our age we think we’ve managed quite well. We’ve always kept pigs, half a dozen milch cows and a pedigree Hereford bull at stud. What we have chiefly lacked is workers to milk, to feed, to doctor when necessary and do a thousand and one others things. If we’d had more ready cash we could have employed a labourer or two, but as it was we dared not spend the money because we needed it for foodstuffs for the animals, as well as ourselves. So you see, if you are prepared to work alongside Taid and me you’ll be more than paying for your keep.’ She slid a plate of bacon, eggs and fried bread down in front of Glenys and another in front of Sam. ‘Is that fair?’

‘It’s more than fair, it’s extremely generous,’ Glenys said, picking up her knife and fork. ‘But you must remember I’m a totally unskilled worker so far as farming is concerned. You might find that I was more of a nuisance than a help.’

Nain shook her head. ‘That’s not important. Taid and I can manage the milking, but carting fodder into the fields, carrying the swill across to the pigsties, searching out the hens if they get lost in the snow and don’t return to the henhouse are all jobs which you and the children should be able to tackle. Winters are always hard, so we keep a stock of food in, but money being so tight means that it’s largely what you might call staples: flour, lard, sugar and so on – enough to keep Taid and me until the weather breaks. But this year we shall be providing for four extra, so there will be trips into Ruthin to be made, too many for an old couple like Taid and myself to tackle even after the snow melts. So if you and Sam were willing to stay on, why, you’d be doubly welcome. Will you consider it, my dear?’