The following morning when Anna woke, she couldn't quite think where she was. She had slept through the night for the first time in over a week. Her stomach rumbled accusingly, but she could not work out whether it was hunger or nausea. Light seeped between the curtains through a slit which lay golden across the bed. As she blinked, the room came into focus and the sounds from outside the window filtered through and slotted into place.

They were at the farm.

All of a sudden she felt weak with relief, the memory of the long drive coming back to her. The last two days had passed in a blur, ever since the phone call from Dr Clarkson had set everything in motion. Phyllis had been a tower of strength, seeing to all of their washing and packing and even finding time to take care of Josie between her work at the hotel. Joseph had worked with the strength of two men and the will of ten to keep the place going to a standard even Mr Carson would have been proud of.

And then Mrs Crawley, or rather Mrs Clarkson, had arrived in the doctor's car and all had been packed up ready for the journey across Yorkshire. It had taken forever. Not because of the driver or car, or even the route, but because they had to stop to allow Anna to vomit several times. Thankfully Josie had fallen asleep, wrapped in a blanket and stashed into a corner of the back seat with her furry teddy bear. Anna sat beside her, while John took the front seat next to Mrs Clarkson.

But now, at the end of the arduous journey, they were here and they were safe.

Anna wriggled to sit up, trying and failing to prevent disturbing John.

"Anna? Are you alright my dear?"

"I'm awake."

"Not sick?"

She smiled wanly down at him. "Hardly. I've not got anything in me to throw up."

Her face was thin, even more pale than usual. Her lips were parched and her lovely eyes looked sunken into her face. John had seen the sort of look before on the faces of soldiers who had gone too long without food and water on a long march. Anna was dehydrated, and needed to eat.

"If I bring you some breakfast, do you think you could manage to eat?"

"I can try. I am thirsty."

"Leave it to me."

...

"Good morning!"

Mrs Patmore was at her post in the kitchen, waving a salute with a spatula.

"Good morning Mrs Patmore. Or should I call you Mrs Mason?"

"Oh don't worry about that duckie, I answer to both these days. Time for breakfast?"

"Anna thinks she might be able to eat something. I meant to take her..."

"Ah ah! Sit!"

With a look of fierce determination on her face, Mrs Patmore pointed to a chair at the table. John had no option but to obey. Mrs Patmore turned to the range and grabbed a thick cloth, pulling out a plate, upon which sizzled sausages, scrambled eggs, a halt tomato and several rashers of bacon.

"Mind yer fingers, it's hot! Toast coming up in a minute..."

"This is so kind of..."

"Not a word more John Bates until you've eaten the whole lot. I've got a bit of toast and some thin porridge here for Anna, and a mug of water. We'll see what she can manage out of that. And I'll get Josie up if she's awake, I've got some scrambled eggs and toast soldiers here for her too."

John began to relax. It was almost like being back at Downton Abbey, knowing that competent people were in charge and in control. He was just polishing off the last sausage when Mrs Patmore came back with Josie holding her hand, dressed in a little gingham dress with hair neatly brushed.

"Look who's awake!" she chirped, lifting Josie up to sit on the padded window seat next to John.

"Morning Daddy!"

"Morning sweetheart."

"Here you go, little miss..."

Mrs Patmore put the small plate of food down in front of her. Finished with his own meal, John turned to take up feeding duties, cutting up the toast into little bites for her.

"Say thank you Josie. How was Anna, Mrs Patmore?"

"Not bad. She's had a go at eating the toast and a few mouthfuls of porridge. I've told 'er to take 'er time. There's more where that came from if it don't work out."

"Daddy can we go out and look at the farm? Pleeease?"

"We'll see sweetheart, if you eat up all these eggs and toast like a good girl. Here, have a drink of some milk."

"Good morning!"

John turned to see Bill coming in through the back door, windswept and tousled, grinning at the assembled group in the kitchen.

"Good morning to you too."

Josie was suddenly overcome by a fit of shyness, shrinking into her father's arm. John sensed her moving beside him, and turned to hoist her into his lap.

"Josie," he said quietly, "this is Uncle Bill. He's the farmer."

Josie stared at Bill wide eyed, her thumb plugged firmly into her mouth. John smiled sheepishly at Bill. "Sorry, but she gets a bit tongue tied around new people sometimes. We're not sure why."

"Ah bless, it's a bit scary coming to a new place and then being surrounded by strange hairy folk like meself. Don't worry about it, she'll come around. Now, down to business. Did you sleep alright?"

"Like a log. We were all out like lights."

"Glad to hear it. That's the best start to any cure. How's that lovely lady wife of yours?"

"Awake, and Mrs Patmore took her some food."

"Tha's good, good to hear. You just all need to take it slow and steady, the lot of yer," Bill leaned forward with a knowing wink and said softly "All four of you."

"Daddy where's Mummy?"

"Mummy's having a little sleep, sweetheart. She might be getting up later."

"In the mean time..." Bill crouched down in front of Josie, still perched in John's lap. "Would you like to come with me and see the chickens? We could give them some corn for their breakfast."

Josie weighed up this proposition in her serious little mind, and eventually nodded solemnly.

"I've got a lovely pair of little boots over here to keep your feet dry..."

Gently, Bill lifted her down and took her little hand, walking her over to the door when a miniature pair of wellingtons and a small rain coat stood waiting upon a chair. John's heart warmed to Bill as he watched his daughter wriggling her toes into the small red boots and thrusting her arms into the little coat. Bill must have kept these things since William was small, and dug them out especially for Josie to borrow. As they headed out the door, Josie's little voice piped up.

"Unca Bill, do you have ponies on your farm?"

John laughed quietly as the door closed. Turning to Mrs Patmore he explained, "that was the first thing she asked when we got your invitation to Christmas. Could she ride a pony."

Mrs Patmore laughed.

"Well, she's clearly a lass who knows her own mind. Just like her parents. Now, I'd best get on and get these cakes made, or there'll be no pudding tonight."

Draining his cup of tea, John hauled to his feet and went to check on his wife.