Page 82 of Christmas at Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

Moss began barking too.

She walked along the length of the top wall by the drifts, snow biting at her cheeks and dimming her vision. The world was a whirl of icy grey and white.

‘To-om!’

No sign. The tractor engine was cold and the vehicle covered with snow. It hadn’t been moved in a while. She pulled out her mobile and tried to phone him. A glimmer of hope as she saw it had service – but a couple of rings and then it cut out. Now there was no signal. Bugger.

Where the hell was he?

She made a search of the field, scanning the ground, the heaps of snow for a glimmer of colour, of clothing. Had he fallen, hurt himself? She called his name over and over, the sheep bleating with her from their huddled groups where they battled for shelter.

Nothing. If he wasn’t here, then where was he? She could try his farmhouse – had he just gone home, exhausted, got into bed? Something told her no; he’d promised to go to Primrose Farm. He knew she’d be worried. Might he be tending an injured animal? Checking on his cattle in the sheds? But he must have walked from here and there were no footprints left to follow, the blizzard having swept away any trace. But he’d brought the tractor back up here, and there was a fresh bale put out for his herd, so where was he now?

‘Tom? Tom!’ The wind stole her words.

Think … Why would he leave the tractor? If he couldn’t get it started – they were sometimes dodgy in extreme weather and the diesel could freeze – then he’d have to leave on foot. She climbed into the cab; the keys were still there, and tried turning the engine on … nothing, no response, no life in the engine at all. That explained one thing, but left a horrible question: where on earth was Tom now?

Stay calm, Rachel. Work it out. What would she do in the same circumstances? She’d head home on foot and his farmhouse was nearer than hers. She got back to her Land Rover, calling Moss in, who was more than happy to get out of the harsh elements. She set off, windscreen wipers on full, the foreboding sky darkening around them, and drove slowly, scanning all sides as she went. A skid took her adrift at one point, her heart in her mouth as the vehicle slowed to a halt just a few yards from a stone wall at the bottom of the field.

She then had to get out of the vehicle and dig out the back wheels with her shovel because they were spinning. She was cold to the bone after doing that and so tired. But she wasn’t heading back until she found Tom. She’d keep looking. Now on the track to Tom’s farm, still no sign. The farmhouse door was unlocked, but he wasn’t at home or out in the barns. Shit, shit, shit!

She made a call to Jill from Tom’s landline, to let her know where she was, and that she was okay.

‘Oh Rachel, thank goodness. Where are you? Have you found him?’

Bugger, so he wasn’t there either. Her heart dipped.

‘No, not yet. So, he’s not turned up there?’

‘No, I’m sorry.’

‘I found the tractor. He’d left it. I think it had stalled. Oh, Mum …’

‘Shall we come out? Help you look?’

‘No! No Mum, you need to stay safe there with Maisy. I’ll retrace my steps, try again. I’ll find him.’ She sounded way more positive than she felt.

‘Go steady, love.’

‘Will do. Okay, I’d better get going again.’

‘Keep me posted, pet.’

‘Yep.’ She put the phone down with a sigh.

Should she call the emergency services? Would they even be able to get out here in these conditions? Probably not in time. They were miles from any police station or ambulance depot, and how the hell would they get up here in this snow, anyhow?

She was in this alone, there was no way she would endanger Jill or Maisy in this weather. With no time to waste, Rachel plodded back through the deepening snow to the Land Rover where Moss was still waiting, and headed back along the same track she’d come down on, just in case.

‘Come on, Tom. Where are you, my love?’ Please, dear God, let him be all right. She was beginning to get seriously worried now. If he was injured and laid up in this weather, hypothermia would soon kick in. The stupid row they’d had two days ago seemed futile. Her world felt on a dangerous precipice. Moss gave an empathetic whimper from the footwell beside her, as though sensing her fear.

She had just found this amazing, heart-soaring love with Tom and she wouldn’t lose it now, she couldn’t.

‘I’ll find you,’ she vowed.

Driving slowly, with the Land Rover tyres slipping here and there, her eyes scanned the landscape through swirls of snow. Still no sign.

Perhaps she could try Mr Mac, ask him to come along in his tractor, help her to look? He was a grumpy old bugger, but he might just rally to arms for a fellow farmer. He was probably the only other person who could get out in this and who knew the lay of the land. She looked up his number on her mobile. Sod it, this was an emergency, any help she could get was worth it. She saw one bar of signal on her phone, slowed the vehicle and dialled. But there was no answer, not on his landline nor his mobile, damn, though she left a brief message on his voicemail.