Half an hour later she was standing in the open doorway saying goodbye to Florence. In her thick coat, woollen scarf, hat and leather boots she was well protected from the cold. The cumbersome shopping bag she carried contained her party dress and shoes, plus some cards for the children in her class.

‘Well, just look at that,’ said Lily with a smile.

A familiar Ford Prefect had pulled up outside the cottage, clouds puffing from the exhaust pipe. Tom got out and swept fresh snow from his rear window with a gloved hand.

‘Thought you would appreciate a lift on party day,’ he called.

Lily smiled and waved back. ‘Yes, please.’

‘He’s keen,’ said Florence with a knowing look. ‘Too keen.’

Lily blushed and raised her eyes. ‘Oh, Mother. Tom is just being a good neighbour. It’s merely a kind gesture.’

Florence said nothing and returned to the kitchen to help Freddie with his bowl of warm porridge. She scraped the bottom of the bowl and kept her thoughts to herself. Lily was either fortunate to have such a helpful friend or she was playing with fire.

Tom parked in Ragley High Street and Lily walked across the village green. Her breath steamed before her as she reached the school gate and paused to take in the sight. Ragley School looked like a Christmas card, with a fresh fall of snow on the roof, frost patterns on the windows and icicles hanging from the eaves. Excited children were rolling snowballs, making snowmen on the field and sliding on the icy playground. No one seemed to mind the cold. These were hardy country children, used to an outdoor life.

Mrs Trott, in a coat and a headscarf, was sweeping the entrance steps. The biting wind appeared to have no effect on this tough lady.

‘Mornin’, Miss Briggs,’ she said. ‘Ah’ve turned ’eatin’ up for y’party.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Trott,’ replied Lily and hurried into the relative warmth of the school.

It was a busy morning in her classroom and the children were excited. Above their heads paper chains stretched across the room. Earlier in the week Lily had brought in a small Christmas tree and every child had made a paper decoration to hang on the boughs.

Suddenly Bertie Stubbs called out, ‘Look, Miss, a robin!’

John Pruett had erected a bird table just outside the window and the children stood on their chairs to get a better view. Mrs Trott had put a few scraps from the kitchen on to the table that morning and a bright-eyed robin was pecking at a crust. The children watched in fascination.

‘’E’s ’avin’ a good breakfast, Miss,’ said Lizzie Buttershaw.

‘Ah wonder if birds ’ave Christmas presents like us, Miss,’ mused Daphne Cahill.

‘What do you think, Daphne?’ asked Lily, pleased that this shy girl had spoken.

Daphne blushed slightly, suddenly the centre of attention. ‘Well, if they do, ah reckon they’ll be different.’