‘Do you think Mum’s all right?’ she asked, more than once, in the darkness.

The fat arms came around her, hugging her close. ‘Course she will be. She’ll’ve taken the car back to our Danny and be safely at Rookery Farm. You’ll see.’

They were all trying to reassure her; but were they sure themselves or just saying it to calm her fears? And their own.

In cold light of dawn, that first grey lightening of the darkness, Ella had woken to the sound of snuffling and grunting from the other side of the door into the small bedroom, and the place beside her in the bed, though rumpled, was empty. She swung her legs to the floor and, barefoot, padded to the window. Drawing back the curtains she looked out on to a grey lake. There were no surging waves now. The wind, still strong though no longer gale-force, merely rippled the surface of the water. She could see now that the floodwater extended to a line just beyond the far bank of the river; beyond that, she could see the brown earth of the fields. She pressed her face to the window trying to see Rookery Farm and though she could see the buildings she could not be sure from this distance whether the water had reached the farm or not.

She dressed hurriedly, shivering in the cold, finding her thickest jumper and warmest socks. Then she went out onto the landing. She knocked on the bedroom door opposite and when there was no answer she pushed open the door and peeped inside.

There was no one in the room.

A moment’s absurd fear swept through her that her grandparents, and Grandma Eland, had gone in the night and she was now entirely alone; marooned in an empty house. She swallowed such a foolish thought.

She went into her grandparents’ room and went to the window. Maybe she could see Rookery Farm from here . . .

It was then that she saw the boat.

On the step just above the water stood the pair of rubber boots she had worn last night. Struggling into them, ignoring the damp insides and holding up her skirt, she stepped carefully down into the water, surprised at the cold which penetrated even the thick rubber of the boots. She could hear the splashing of water as someone moved about. Slowly she waded out of the hall and into the living room; then through that and stopped at the kitchen door. ‘Gran?’ In the kitchen her grandmother and Grandma Eland were lifting chairs out of the water and on to the table.

‘You stay upstairs, Missy,’ her grandmother snapped. ‘I dun’t want you getting soaking wet again. The range fire’s out now and there’s no way I can relight it.’ Ella saw the older woman cast an angry, resentful glance at the cold fire-grate.