,“I’m running away, and you can’t stop me,” wailed Daisy.
Her long suffering Mum had heard it all before. “OK, darling. Do you need a lift?”
“No, I’m going by myself.”
“You do know it’s snowing?”
“I don’t care. I like snow.”
“‘Ok,” sighed Caroline, “But where will you sleep? Can I give your bed to another little girl?” But Daisy had already marched off, down the path and out of the gate.
Caroline pulled on her raincoat and hurried after her, keeping at a discreet distance. Her fiery daughter would not give up easily, and who knows where she would end up.
Daisy marched on, with flakes of snow flying in her face. How dare her horrid Mum ban her from watching TV for two whole weeks just because she’d taken her sister’s sweets? She was suddenly aware of a bus, drawing to a halt beside her. As people stepped off, she jumped on next to a young couple, into the dry and warm interior.
As the bus took off, Caroline turned the corner. There was no sign of Daisy. It didn’t occur to her that she might have caught the bus. She surely didn’t have any money.
Panic rose in her throat. What sort of a terrible mother was she? Her little girl was leaving home, and now she’d lost her. The snow was falling more heavily, and it would soon be dark.
Daisy jumped off the bus three stops later outside a parade of shops. Nobody had asked her for payment. She decided that if she was going to run away, she would need some food. The bakery smelled good. Daisy reached into her coat pocket. She still had 50p that her granny had given her, enough for a small loaf. The shop was just closing and there were no cakes left.
Caroline was running now, calling Daisy’s name. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to her.
There were fields opposite the shops, and Daisy reckoned that a runaway would hide in fields, so she wandered along the tracks, hidden by hedges, and nibbled at the dry bread. She wasn’t really hungry and was getting quite wet. Soon she was very cold, and the ground was getting icy. This was not as much fun as she thought it would be. As the darkness descended she thought of her bed being given to another little girl. Her cosy, warm bed.
Caroline was now desperate, and on the phone to the police. Despite the weather, their response was fast. But they weren’t sure how much they could do in the dark. The snow was too heavy for the helicopter and drones to be utilised.
Daisy decided to go home. The trees looked scary in the dark. But which field had led to the shops? She couldn’t see far in any direction. Suddenly overwhelmed with panic, she called for her Mum, shouting louder and louder. But there was no reply.
She started to run as fast as she could, tripping and sometimes sliding on patches of ice. She would never do this again.
Caroline was frantically calling all Daisy’s school friends, but nobody had seen her. The police were now circulating her picture, and knocking on doors.
At last Daisy saw streetlights, and then the parade of shops. They were all closed, but now she could follow the road back the way the bus had come. Suddenly she was exhausted, and could only walk slowly. There was no one about. The weather had sent everyone scurrying indoors to their firesides.
She plodded on, and just as she felt so tired that she had to sit on a wall, a police car spotted her.
Her adventure was over, never to be repeated. And these days , Daisy’s children love to hear the story of their Mum’s runaway winter journey, and their Grandma Caroline tells them that that was the night her lovely auburn hair turned grey.
Her long suffering Mum had heard it all before. “OK, darling. Do you need a lift?”
“No, I’m going by myself.”
“You do know it’s snowing?”
“I don’t care. I like snow.”
“‘Ok,” sighed Caroline, “But where will you sleep? Can I give your bed to another little girl?” But Daisy had already marched off, down the path and out of the gate.
Caroline pulled on her raincoat and hurried after her, keeping at a discreet distance. Her fiery daughter would not give up easily, and who knows where she would end up.
Daisy marched on, with flakes of snow flying in her face. How dare her horrid Mum ban her from watching TV for two whole weeks just because she’d taken her sister’s sweets? She was suddenly aware of a bus, drawing to a halt beside her. As people stepped off, she jumped on next to a young couple, into the dry and warm interior.
As the bus took off, Caroline turned the corner. There was no sign of Daisy. It didn’t occur to her that she might have caught the bus. She surely didn’t have any money.
Panic rose in her throat. What sort of a terrible mother was she? Her little girl was leaving home, and now she’d lost her. The snow was falling more heavily, and it would soon be dark.
Daisy jumped off the bus three stops later outside a parade of shops. Nobody had asked her for payment. She decided that if she was going to run away, she would need some food. The bakery smelled good. Daisy reached into her coat pocket. She still had 50p that her granny had given her, enough for a small loaf. The shop was just closing and there were no cakes left.
Caroline was running now, calling Daisy’s name. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to her.
There were fields opposite the shops, and Daisy reckoned that a runaway would hide in fields, so she wandered along the tracks, hidden by hedges, and nibbled at the dry bread. She wasn’t really hungry and was getting quite wet. Soon she was very cold, and the ground was getting icy. This was not as much fun as she thought it would be. As the darkness descended she thought of her bed being given to another little girl. Her cosy, warm bed.
Caroline was now desperate, and on the phone to the police. Despite the weather, their response was fast. But they weren’t sure how much they could do in the dark. The snow was too heavy for the helicopter and drones to be utilised.
Daisy decided to go home. The trees looked scary in the dark. But which field had led to the shops? She couldn’t see far in any direction. Suddenly overwhelmed with panic, she called for her Mum, shouting louder and louder. But there was no reply.
She started to run as fast as she could, tripping and sometimes sliding on patches of ice. She would never do this again.
Caroline was frantically calling all Daisy’s school friends, but nobody had seen her. The police were now circulating her picture, and knocking on doors.
At last Daisy saw streetlights, and then the parade of shops. They were all closed, but now she could follow the road back the way the bus had come. Suddenly she was exhausted, and could only walk slowly. There was no one about. The weather had sent everyone scurrying indoors to their firesides.
She plodded on, and just as she felt so tired that she had to sit on a wall, a police car spotted her.
Her adventure was over, never to be repeated. And these days , Daisy’s children love to hear the story of their Mum’s runaway winter journey, and their Grandma Caroline tells them that that was the night her lovely auburn hair turned grey.