Pulling on the pair of rubber boots she had virtually claimed as her own, Ella went out into the yard, where Jonathan had all the rugs from the ground floor of the house spread about. He was carrying buckets of water from the pump and swilling them over Esther’s peg rugs trying to wash away the sand and mud.

‘I don’t think I’m doing much good with these.’ He glanced ruefully at Ella. He set the bucket down on the ground and bent double, resting his hands on his knees, as a fit of coughing racked him.

Ella went up to him. ‘You shouldn’t be doing this, Grandpa. You should be indoors resting.’

Jonathan took a deep breath and stood up slowly. He was smiling. ‘You sound like your grannie.’

Her smile flickered briefly and then died. ‘Grandpa, can I go to Rookery Farm now the water’s gone?’

‘Well . . .’ He hesitated, doubtful, and then glanced about him. Then he looked down again at the girl. ‘I suppose so, if you promise to keep to the lane. No going into the fields, mind. Why do you want to go?’

‘I want to be there when Mum comes back. She’ll come back today, now the water’s gone. I know she will.’ The words came out in a rush, tumbling over themselves in her eagerness; an excitement that hid her deep-rooted anxiety.

Jonathan touched her unruly curls with a tender gesture and his voice was husky as he said, ‘Yes, love, of course she will. Off you go then, but tell your grannie first where you’re going.’

‘I will.’

As she left the yard and turned into the lane, trudging along in her over-large boots, the young girl felt the anxiety of the last few days lift a little. Today Mum would come back. She must have stayed somewhere in town and not been able to get home because of the floodwater.

But Uncle Danny had been into town and back by the road leading past the Grange inland, a niggling little voice reminded her. Why hadn’t Mum come that way then? Perhaps she hadn’t got back as far as Lynthorpe, Ella continued to argue inside her head. Perhaps she was still somewhere where the water had only just gone, like here at the Point. But today, she would come home.

She must find Uncle Danny. Perhaps he had some news.

*

‘I’ve tried everything I can think of.’ Danny stood facing Ella, her own anxiety mirrored in his face. He swept his hand up into his hair and grasped a handful, almost as if he would pull it out by the roots. His feeling of dread was every bit as great as Ella’s and just as obvious. Behind him, Rosie fiddled with the corner of her apron, her troubled eyes going from one to the other.