Grandpaâs garden, and theyâd kept well, stored in the shed. That reminded her . . . once sheâd finished baking, she would put on her boots and go along to see how he was getting on. Oh, he had good neighbours who would see that he had plenty of food, and his daily paper delivered, but it would be like him to try to go out, even in this weather.
âAnyone in?â
Nancy whirled round, and saw Walterâs face appear round the kitchen door.
âWalter!â Nancy felt a moment of swift panic. âWhy . . . I mean youâre home early. Is itâis there anything wrong?â
âNow calm down, Mrs M,â he said kindly. âNothingâs wrongâand Matt will be home shortly. You wouldnât expect us to work in this weather, would you?â
âOf course not.â Nancy felt foolish, but relief swept through her.
âYouâve no need to be anxious,â he reassured her. âYou know we donât work when thereâs high winds, or danger of icing. Weâve stopped work early today, and I wondered if there was any chance of a cup of tea.â
âJust sit yourself down and Iâll put the kettle on.â
Walter moved over to the window and stood, gazing out.
âItâs a long time since we had a winter like this. Nineteen forty-seven was the last bad winterâso one of the lads was saying.â
âI feel for anyone whoâs working outside,â Nancy shivered. âAnd as for these men on the snow-ploughsâI read in the paper about one crew, stuck in their cab overnight, without food or drink.â
âAye, theyâre doing a grand job,â Walter agreed. âWorking through the night to clear the roads.â
* * *
âI hope the kettleâs on.â
Matt was at the door, stamping his feet and swinging his arms. He shook the snow from his duffel coat and pulled off his cap.
Nancy noticed that the melting snow was dripping on to the linoleum as he stood there, blowing on his fingers. Even in the warmth of her kitchen Nancy could imagine how raw and bleak it must be for the men working on the bridge.
âWhat about Miss McAllister?â Walter asked, concerned. âTheyâll surely close the school early.â
âI expect sheâll be home soon,â Nancy said as she poured the tea. âThereâs scones,â she added, âand honey. And itâs your favourite, apple pie for pudding.â
âWe never ate so well before you came here, Walter!â Matt grinned.
âCheek!â Nancy pretended to be affronted.
âSpeaking of food,â Matt said, as he stirred his tea. âWhat about Grandpa? Will he be all right? Itâs going to snow again.â
âIâm going to pop along if the bus is running, just to see heâs all right,â Nancy said. âIf only he had a phone. It would be useful at times like this.â
âYou donât need to venture out, Mum. Iâll go.â Matt was on his feet. âNothing else to do todayâno football, everythingâs closed. And no work tomorrowâisnât that right, Walter?â
âWeâll see. Iâll go down to the bridge later on, see whatâs happening. But I doubt it, not with this wind rising.â
âOh, thank you, Matt,â Nancy said. âIâve some groceries put by for Grandpa.â She smiled at her elder son. What a good lad he was!
âIâd best go now, then,â Matt said, draining his cup. âIâll get a lift if the bus isnât running. Expect me back for the apple pie. Oh!â He threw a couple of packets on the table. âI promised to get these for Roy.â
âWhat are they?â
âSweetie cigarettes.â Matt grinned. âPopeye and Laurel and Hardy. He wanted them for his collection.â
âHeâll be that pleased.â
Nancy smiled affectionately at her son. He was so thoughtful.
âIâll be as
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