The wind had got up by late afternoon. Straight from the North Pole by the feel of it. My nose dripped and my eyes watered. I wrapped my scarf tighter round my face and struggled to school. The children hated it, whining all the way back about being freezing and stinging snow (meaning hail) and how itchy their hats were. I bought crumpets from the corner shop to celebrate our return to base camp.
The house was like an ice-box. I checked the central heating dial. It had stopped. The lights were on in the kitchen but the fridge wasn’t working either. Or the toaster.
‘I want my crumpet now,’ demanded Maddie, bashing the washing machine controls with her fist.
‘You’ll get it as soon as I’ve sorted this out,’ I snapped.
‘I hate you,’ she retorted.
‘You could come and help. We’ll have to check the fuses in the cellar.’
She wheeled away disdainfully.
‘I will,’ piped up Tom.
‘It’ll all go dark for a bit,’ I called after Maddie while I rooted around in the drawer for the torch.
Some brilliant thinker had actually labelled the fuses in the past so I could find the right one quickly. And, joy of joys, there was fuse wire on top of the fuse box. I switched off the mains and removed the fuse. It was burned through.
Solemnly Tom held the fuse while I measured a piece of wire in the light from the torch. I could hear Maddie shuffling on the cellar steps, wanting to be with us but not wanting to admit it.
‘Maddie,’ I called, ‘could you hold the torch?’
‘Why?’
‘Then I can fix the new wire.’
Big sigh. She came down and took the torch. I fixed the fuse and replaced it, turned the power back on. Tom and Maddie ran upstairs to see if it worked.
Victory. Crumpets on, heating reset, oven warming up. I grabbed a crumpet and some tea. Then chopped vegetables up and slung them in a casserole with tinned butter beans and stock.
The evening paper had arrived. I picked it up and returned to the kitchen. It was warm now, smelled good. I closed the blinds, turned Digger out of my chair. Fifteen minutes’ peace catching up on the local news would be just the job. I’d empty the washing machine first, a reminder to take it downstairs to dry later. I opened the door. Gallons of cold soapy water gushed over my feet and into the kitchen.