Page 83 of Christmas at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

What if she didn’t find Tom? He could have wandered anywhere, got confused, be lying with the snow heaping up on him like poor Petie. Panicked thoughts began to fill her mind. She pushed them aside abruptly. Tom was strong, he knew this landscape, understood the power of this weather. Though the vortex of fear in her stomach kept whirling, she kept it at bay. Focus, Rachel, focus. She followed the track back towards Tom’s tractor and the field they’d been in, moving slowly, lowering her window, scouring the landscape and calling, calling. Then she continued, heading further up the valley, along what she hoped was still the track, the snow even deeper here, the darkening sky a thick grey soup behind the swirling flakes of white. She hoped to God that she didn’t get stuck herself, but there was no turning back for her now.

‘Tom! Tom! Are you there?’ she yelled through her open window, snow hurtling in at her. She tooted the horn.

And the memories of calling for Dad on that fateful day were strong and foreboding, clutching at her soul …

Keep going, Rachel. You’ll find him. Granny Ruth’s sensible voice was suddenly in her mind, spurring her on.

I am. I will.

But should she turn back, try elsewhere on the farm? Why would he be up the valley this far? She’d have to find somewhere to try and turn the Land Rover, which would be tricky in all this snow. The last thing this situation needed was two of them stuck out here.

There! What was that? She squinted, trying to focus. Ahead … a glimpse of clothing? Something yellow? A figure stumbling. Surely no one else would be mad enough to be out here on a day like this. She pulled up, leapt out with Moss on her heels. Oh God! ‘Tom!’

It was him. He was staggering, snow stuck horizontally to his clothing, his face, his lashes. He looked ashen. He was heading the wrong way up the valley.

‘Tom! Hey, it’s me, Rachel.’ There were tears in her eyes as she stopped him and took him in her arms.

He seemed confused, looking at her blankly for a second or two. ‘Gotta get back,’ he muttered.

‘I know. Come on, you’re okay. You’re safe now. Let’s get you in the truck.’

And then he seemed to register. ‘Rach?’

Moss was criss-crossing behind the two of them, herding them back to the vehicle.

‘It’s all right, Tom. You’ll be okay now,’ she reassured. She guided him to the truck and helped him in to the passenger seat. Moss took his place at his feet and gave his hand a welcoming lick. Rachel could see that Tom was shivering uncontrollably. He could well be hypothermic. She tucked a rug from the rear of the truck around him, managed a six-point turn in the snowy lane, having to stop and dig out the tyres with her shovel at one point, insisting Tom stay put, and they set off.

Tom seemed rather dazed and weak. ‘Got lost …’ was all he could say.

‘It’s okay, I’ve found you. We’re going home.’ And she couldn’t wait to see the steading of Primrose Farm. She concentrated on the blur of track ahead.

‘Sorry,’ he added a few minutes later, seeming to register a little more.

‘No need. Oh, Tom, I shouldn’t have left you out here.’ Guilt began to bite, mixed with relief. He’d insisted, yes, but it was no place to be left alone.

‘Did we save them … the sheep?’ It was as if his short-term memory was struggling.

‘Mostly, you saved nearly all my flock. Thank you. Thank you so much.’

‘Oh … good. That’s good.’ He seemed bone-tired, shivering still. He closed his eyes. Moss’s nose nudged the hand he had rested in his lap as they made the last leg of the journey.

A rumbling noise came from ahead and a daze of headlights – a big green tractor that she recognised as Mr Mac’s. It paused ahead of them in the lane and he jumped out, coming across to the Land Rover.

‘Aye, you’ve found him. Thank heavens for that.’ The old man seemed genuinely concerned and relieved to see Tom in the vehicle. ‘I tried to call you back, and then your mam answered at the farm. This is no weather to be out in. How is he?’

Tom wasn’t answering, he was so sleepy.

‘He seems hypothermic. We need to get him home and warm.’

‘Ay, let me turn about and I’ll make a clear track for you, lassie. I’ve got the snowplough on.’

‘Oh, thank you. Thank you.’

‘Nay worries. Grand he’s back wi’ ye. Let’s get you all home then.’

Rachel smiled. Tom wasn’t quite out of the woods yet, but this show of human kindness, that her grumpy neighbour was there when it mattered, suddenly made her feel teary. She wouldn’t let on, of course, wiping a little droplet away as Mr Mac turned to go back to his tractor.

The journey was swifter with a clear road and a big green tractor to follow, all the way back to Primrose Farm. Mr Mac helped to support Tom inside, where Jill was ready in the candlelight, with warm towels, and fresh clothes she’d found in Dad’s side of the wardrobe that she hadn’t yet been able to bear to throw out.