Page 81 of Christmas at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

‘When did the electrics go out?’

‘About an hour ago. I had the candles ready, just in case.’ They’d experienced power cuts many a time in this kind of weather, the overhead power lines which they had out here in the rural areas often freezing and blowing down.

‘Why don’t you go and get changed, love, get some warm clothes on?’

‘In a minute. I’ll just try Petie with a little of this milk, get him started …’

‘All right, pet, it’s ready now. I’ll pop some in Maisy’s plastic bowl she had as a toddler and we can see if that works for him.’

‘I can help, Mummy.’

‘Yes, I think Petie would like that.’

Maisy sat nursing her grown-up pet lamb with warm milk and gentle cuddles. It was heartwarming to see and Rachel prayed he’d make it through.

Twenty minutes later Rachel was dressed in dry warm woollens, with jogging bottoms and fresh socks, sipping a mug of soup.

Maisy was still cradling little Petie, stroking his woolly head, and softly singing him ‘Away in a Manger’ with a few ad lib words and several repeats, from her nativity play. The poor little sheep was now a million miles from his naughty drama queen self.

He’d managed a little of the sweet milk, and a little nibble of raw cabbage that Jill had found for him, and was resting. Only time would tell for this little chap.

Meanwhile, there was no way Rachel could rest. She’d tried Tom’s mobile to reassure herself that he was okay, but as she feared, there was no answer, just an engaged tone as if there was no signal getting through. But it hadn’t even been half an hour since she arrived back. He might just walk in the door any minute – cold, damp, tired and longing for a hug and a mug of soup.

As the time crept on, though, Rachel began to feel very uneasy. It was past two o’clock now and daylight would be fading (what dim daylight there was) in another hour or so. You really didn’t want to be out in this weather in the dark.

Concerned looks passed between Rachel and Jill. Rachel kept checking her watch and the window, hoping for the rumbling sound of Tom’s tractor and the reassuring beam of its headlights. She was pacing the kitchen.

‘It’s no good, I can’t hang about any longer, Mum. Something might have happened to him.’ Rachel couldn’t bear to wait. She couldn’t take that risk. They’d already lost a father, a husband.

‘Mummy, don’t go! Look what happened to Petie out there.’ Maisy was looking quite distraught.

‘I know. But, that’s why I need it go, petal. In case Tom’s in trouble. I’ll be okay. I really need to find him. He might just need some help with one more sheep and then we can both come home.’

‘I s’pose.’ Maisy was biting down hard on her lip.

‘You stay with Grandma and make sure Petie’s doing fine.’

With that, the sheep’s eyes fluttered open.

‘See, he needs you here. Try that song again, I think he likes that one.’

‘Okay.’

‘I won’t be long,’ Rachel looked at Jill, ‘hopefully. And if I get any signal on my phone, I’ll keep in touch.’

‘All right. Don’t take any chances though, please.’

With no time to waste, Rachel grabbed her waterproofs, hat, her now soggy gloves and wellingtons and then headed back out, taking Moss once more, heading straight for Tom’s field.

As she concentrated on the few snowflake-filled metres she could see ahead, there was a voice in her head, chanting, ‘Let him be all right, please let him be all right’.

Instinct took her back to the field where they had started, guessing at the best track to take. The Land Rover started sliding at one point but she stayed calm, letting it roll back a little and then took another run up at the hill at a steady but smooth pace. The wind was howling hauntingly up here.

There! Over there. Rachel could just make out the blue of Tom’s tractor parked at the brow of the hill. Thank heavens, he’d be somewhere nearby and she’d make him come away. It was time to give up, go home and get warm. He’d done all he could and more by now for sure.

The wind battered the door of the vehicle as Rachel tried to climb out, howling and blasting it with snow. No wonder the poor sheep were struggling up here. But the forecast was for it to ease tomorrow. Moss was on her heels as she began trudging along the hedge-line, figuring Tom would be here somewhere, still digging out the drifts.

‘Tom, Tom!’