The snow blew across the road in flurries, seemingly with a life of their own. Sometimes they chased each other, and other times, they went off on their own, down the road a little before they expired.

He watched them for a while and then, once again, looked up in amazement. The snow really was like the ornament they had on the mantelpiece at home. Huge dobs of snow filled the sky, lit only by the streetlight.

The backdrop was entirely black and these now orange coloured lumps were incessantly appearing from an endless source.

He gripped his mother’s hand once more, having forgotten their plight for a few seconds.

There was no traffic on the road at all, either way. Just the thick falling snow, the orange light and the darkened houses. The road surface itself was thickly packed from previous traffic, which had now all but dried up. And there was no sign at all of their bus.

In response to his squeeze, his mother squeezed back. As he looked up at her, she had a slightly anxious look on her face, but nothing more than that.

They had been standing there for quite a while now. At 4 years old Stevie was not able to measure actually how long they had been standing there, but it was a while. And although the snow was coming down heavily, he did not feel cold. But he knew that they could not stand there forever, waiting for a bus that probably would not come now that the weather, and the night, was drawing in.

“I wish this bus would come,” said his mother rather in appeal than with much hope, “I’d like to get home tonight, if we could.”

Stevie understood, but his nature was such – perhaps abetted by his age – that he wasn’t too bothered what would happen tonight.

Although he knew that tomorrow was Christmas Day, he was oblivious to the implications of not being at home the next morning. He thought it quite an adventure to be waiting for an as yet non-existent bus in the thick snow at the top of the road from his Aunt’s house.

They had been there all day on their regular weekly visit. He had become accustomed to the hour-long bus ride and lived the experience. Indeed the concept of not getting home that evening had him wondering, just a little, what might happen next.

It was only a little thought, not a fear, for Stevie did not do ‘fear’, in his life, as yet he had not found anything that would really frighten him.

That wasn’t quite true. There was the occasional nightmare he had that he didn’t like much. It was hard to define, but while he was in it, usually if he was unwell, perhaps with a temperature, he really was scared.

But the only thing he could remember about the nightmare was the sense of an overwhelming large cloud approaching and he had no way of escaping its arrival. Of course it never did overcome him, for he would wake and his mother or father would come into his room and soothe him as much as they could.

Strangely, when they came into his room to attend to his crying, the cloud did not immediately go away, but hovered, menacingly over the two of them as they lay there. Mother, or father, looking half asleep and Stevie hot, sweaty and unable, for a while to shake off the fear of that unknown monster up above them in the bedroom.

A car approached. This was quite rare even when there was no challenging weather about, for there were few private cars in those days.

‘There’ll be no more buses tonight missus,” he shouted across the passenger side after he had wound down the window, “They’re all stopped because they can’t get up the hill out of town.”

Mother looked more concerned and yet also relieved, for a decision had been made for her.

“Can I give you a lift somewhere?” the man asked, genuinely it seemed.

“No, thank you,” said mother, “We’re going a long way and in this weather, I think we’ll be better off staying put. But it’s kind of you to offer.”

With that the man cranked up the window, settled himself back into his seat and slowly started his way forward on the packed snow.

“That’s Doctor Jessup, I think,” said mother, “It was kind of him to offer, wasn’t it?”

The question lingered only for a few moments and Stevie failed to respond. Mother didn’t seem to have much expectation of a reply anyway. They began to make there way back down the little road to her sister’s house.

They had to be a little careful. Because the road was a small incline and the paths were thick with snow. Stevie, despite his young age, knew that snow would be slippery underfoot, so he gripped his mother’s hand all the more now, especially through the little knitted mitten, which had a habit of slipping off at the best of times.

Eventually, they made it back the 200 yards, down the little hill to the house they had left a while before. Through the back yard and in the back door they went, immediately shocked by the bright light, the heat and the kitchen smells that overwhelmed them.

“So, you didn’t make it then?” asked the cheery woman of mother. “I said you’d cut it a bit fine tonight.”

“They’ve stopped the buses at the bottom of Bunker Hill,” mother said, “There’s no getting home tonight.”

“How will Jeremy know where you are then,” said Aunt Beattie, gruffly and yet concerned.

“I don’t know, but Jerry will work it out and come over for us in the morning, if that’s all right?”

“So, you’ll be staying with us for Christmas Eve then,” said a loud voice, coming from the parlour “That’ll be wonderful for us, but a bit of a shame for you.”

Uncle John had heard the rumpus as they came in the door and, in his own way, was welcoming them back into the warmth and safety of their little home.

Eventually, his ruddy face appeared at the kitchen door, beaming from ear to ear and Stevie ran to him with a big smile himself.

They had no children of their own, Beattie and John, so Stevie was the apple of his eye. They got on very well indeed.

“Let’s go and find where you’re going to sleep, shall we?”

Off the two of them went. For this was an easy-going household and Stevie and his mother stayed often.

There would be no concerns of them staying over that night, only love and warmth and a sense of companionship.

Though the night was unpleasnt, Stevie and his mother would be warmly welcomed tonight.

Of that, there was no doubt.