‘Yes, and their breath smells lovely even though they haven’t been on grass for ages and have had to make do with hay,’ Mo observed as they entered the byre. Her grandmother was at the far end and had presumably just finished feeding the calf, for the big-eyed, long-legged little creature was prancing around the small enclosure, eager to get back to the security of his mother’s side.

‘Hey, Nain, have you finished? I’ve come to help you, and so’s Daddy,’ Mo shouted.

Nain turned at the sound of her granddaughter’s voice and reached for the gate to the small pen, but before she could come out the calf knocked her aside as it darted ahead of her through the gate. The old woman gave a startled squeak and Sam ran forward to prevent the calf from escaping, but it dodged round him and made for the open doorway.

‘Give your grandmother a hand up, Mo,’ Sam commanded. ‘I’ll go after the calf; it could break all four legs if it tries to run across the icy yard. I reckon it knows Violet is in the big barn and wants to join her.’

Mo ran to her grandmother, who was lying motionless amongst the straw. ‘Are you all right, Nain?’ Mo asked anxiously. ‘It were all my fault, shouting out like that and taking your mind off what you were doing. Nain? Are you all right?’ She threw herself down beside her grandmother.

Nain groaned but tried to give Mo a reassuring smile. ‘I’m all right, but we’ve got to catch the calf before it damages itself,’ she said in a thread of a voice. ‘And it wasn’t your fault, cariad, but my own. I should have remembered that the calf would want to go to its mother.’ She sat up, but Mo could see that it cost her an effort to do so. ‘Go and help your father to catch that calf.’

Before Mo could obey she heard a triumphant shout, and smiled reassuringly down at her grandmother. ‘Did you hear that, Nain?’ she asked. ‘That shout, I mean? It were Dad and he said “Gotcher”, so that’s all right. Let me help you up. Auntie Glenys has made a batch of scones and I helped her, so she said to hurry in and have one whilst they’re still hot.’ She seized her grandmother’s hands and tried to pull her to her feet, but Nain gave a shriek of pain and shook her head.

‘No, cariad, I think it will take more than your little strength to get me on my feet,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you’d better go to your father and get him to come and lend me his strong arm once the calf is safely shut in the big barn with his mother.’

‘Oh, but I don’t want to leave you, Nain,’ Mo said distressfully. ‘Dad’s bound to come over to the byre as soon as he’s penned the calf, to make sure you’re all right.’ She stared anxiously into her grandmother’s face. ‘You’re awful pale, Nain. Where does it hurt?’