THE NEXT MORNING Poppy woke up before anyone else so she decided to make use of the amazingly luxurious bathroom. She ran a deep bath and poured in all the little sample bottles of bubbles and oil that she could find and splashed about happily. By the time she had finished, everyone else was awake and keen to use the bathroom before they went down to breakfast. While they did that, Poppy got dressed and they all went down to the dining room together.
It had snowed all night and she was keen to go outside. While they were eating the yummy food that had been prepared by Granny Bumble and Mrs Woodchester, Dad and some of the other villagers were discussing what needed to be done that day. It was decided that they would split into two groups. David,Ted and Mr Woodchester would go out on the tractor to clear the road that led to the main highway, and Dad and Mr Atkins, the local builder, would take Mr Atkins’s digger and try to clear the road between Honeypot Hill and Camomile Cove, via Barley Farm, so that supplies could get through.
“Can I come with you, Dad?” asked Poppy as she polished off a boiled egg with soldiers.
“It’s going to be really cold and hard work,” Dad replied. “I don’t think you’ll enjoy it.”
Poppy’s face fell. “Aww, please, Dad. I won’t be any trouble. It’ll be an adventure and I don’t mind hard work,” she said.
“All right then – as long as you promise not to whinge about being cold,” said Dad.
Mum looked worried. “If you’re taking Poppy with you, make sure you don’t stay out too long – she feels the cold much more than you do, James.”
Dad winked at Poppy. “We’ll be fine, won’t we? We’re the rescue team!”
Dad was optimistic that they would soon return, laden with fresh provisions. Ideally he wanted to clear the road all the way to Camomile Cove, but at the very least he needed to get down to Barley Farm to collect bags of corn and also milk, cheese, eggs and butter for everyone in the hotel, and to check on the Meadowsweets. Their daughter, Sally, who ran the Lavender Lake Garden Centre, was very worried about her elderly parents out there on the farm with only the animals for company, especially since the phone and electricity lines were down.
“They should have come up here yesterday with me but they are very stubborn!” Sally explained to Dad. “Silly old doughnuts!”
“We’ll try to persuade them to come back with us!” promised Dad.
“Thanks, James,” said Sally. “They might listen to you!”
Poppy dashed off to her room to get ready to go out while Dad went to the kitchen to find some supplies for their journey.
“I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten minutes,” he called after her.
Poppy, Dad and Mr Atkins were wrapped up so well that only their eyes were visible, but at least they would be warm. They walked out to the car park, where Mr Atkins had left his digger. When Poppy got outside she couldn’t believe how much snow there was. It came up higher than her knees, and some of the drifts were taller than she was. Everything was so covered in snow and looked so different to normal that Poppy half expected to see polar bears and penguins roaming around the village!
“Wow!” she said when they reached the digger. “I’ve always wanted to ride in one of these. Now I’m part of the rescue team – I really am a rescue princess! Cool.”
Mr Atkins climbed into the driving seat and started the engine while Dad lifted Poppy up into the cab, loaded up their supplies and equipment, then clambered in beside her.
The digger’s progress was slow but steady and it had finally even stopped snowing. The three pioneers, Poppy, Dad and Mr Atkins, sang songs as they ploughed their way through the deep snow. They were soon well on their way to Barley Farm.
“The wheels on the digger go round and round, round and round, round and round . . .” sang Poppy cheerfully as they bounced along, with Dad and Mr Atkins joining in for the chorus.
Then, all of a sudden, the digger juddered and spluttered and finally came to a halt, just over the bridge near the Village Hall.
“Oh no!” cried Mr Atkins. “This old thing never lets me down.”
He turned the key in the ignition several times but the digger just coughed, so he got out and looked around the machine.
“Everything seems fine,” he said. “I don’t understand it – I’ve just had her serviced. Maybe it’s the cold, but I’m sure I put some anti-freeze in. I’ll pop open the bonnet.”
Dad jumped down too and they both peered at the engine.
“Starter motor’s fine . . . fan belt hasn’t snapped . . . oil looks OK and so does the water,” muttered Mr Atkins, scratching his head.
“What could it be then?” asked Dad, who wasn’t too sure about engines in normal cars, never mind industrial diggers.
Sitting in the cab of the digger all on her own was boring and Poppy was getting fed up. Surely they’ll fix it soon, she thought, then we can be on our way. I was having such fun!
“The only thing I can think of is that we’ve run out of fuel, James,” admitted Mr Atkins when he could find nothing else wrong with his digger.
Dad’s face crumpled. He hadn’t thought to ask how much petrol they had. “Have you got any spare in the cab?” he asked.
“No, that I have not,” said Mr Atkins, looking embarrassed. “This heavy work fairly sucks up the fuel. I’m sorry, folks. We’re going to have to leave the digger here. They’ll have some spare at Barley Farm – the tractors run on the same stuff.”
Poppy thought this was a terrible situation. It had taken them ages to get this far in the digger, even though the distance they had covered wasn’t that great. She was beginning to feel cold, hungry and tired and she wished she’d stayed at the hotel. Everyone back there would be lovely and warm – they’ve probably just had a yummy hot lunch. And it had started snowing again!
“I don’t think we have any choice,” said Dad. “We’re going to have to walk – no one is going to come looking for us in this weather. It’s a long way back to the hotel so we’ll have to make our way to Barley Farm and sit it out with the Meadowsweets. If we can get some fuel from them for the digger, Mr Atkins and I can walk back, fill her up and then collect you from the farm. How does that sound?”
“Well, it sounds like a good solution to me, James,” said Mr Atkins.
“But I don’t want to walk,” wailed Poppy miserably. “I’m freezing.”
“Come on, sweetheart,” said Dad. “You wanted to come and you promised not to whinge. It’s an adventure and you’ll warm up as soon as you start walking.”
Dad caught Poppy as she jumped down from the cab. Through the blizzard, in the far distance, they could see the smoking chimneys of the farmhouse on Barley Farm. The three of them set off, using the smoke to guide them.
“How will Mum know where we are?” asked Poppy when they’d been walking for ten minutes or so. “Saffron said the phone lines are down on the farm.”
Dad looked stumped. “Don’t worry, Poppy, she’ll know we’re safe,” he said, looking at Mr Atkins.
“Yes, I’d agree. She knows we’re looking after you,” said Mr Atkins. “And we’ll soon be back at the hotel, safe and warm, hopefully with some supplies, before your mum even has time to worry, Princess Poppy.”
“See, darling,” said Dad reassuringly. “It’s all going to be fine – we just need to keep walking.”
“That’s right. There’s no point moaning at this stage. Let’s make our way to the farmhouse. I’m starving too – the sooner we get there, the sooner we eat!” said Mr Atkins.
