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When Gerard woke the house was freezing. Even under his several blankets his toes were like ice. "Morning," a voice called and Gerard peeled his eyes open to see his new bedroom. He was still getting used to waking up in an unfamiliar place. "I'm going to collect some wood for the fire," Frank said pulling on a thick pair of socks over his feet and trousers and a cardigan over his shirt. "Do you want to come with?"

Keeping his voice low in mind of the two other sleeping boys in the room, Gerard agreed and began to dress himself.

Pulling his sweater-vest over his shirt he made his way downstairs to find Frank already in his coat, gloves and dark green wellington boots. "I looked in your shoes to see what size you were and found you some wellies in the garage. It gets really muddy on the farm, especially in the winter, so get used to tromping around in these."

"Thanks," Gerard muttered and took the boots from Frank. They were identical to his. He slipped them over his socks and wiggled his toes to test the size.

"Do they fit?"

"Yeah, perfectly, thank you."

"No problem. You got any gloves?"

Gerard shook his head. He had never needed gloves too much in London. Everything was within five minutes from his house. If he went out in the cold it wasn't long enough for his fingers to need covering.

"That's fine, I'm sure Maggie will knit you some. She did for Mikey," Frank smiled encouragingly and turned to open the back door. As soon as the door cracked open bitter air flooded the kitchen turning the air inside the house even the cooler. "The quicker we are, the faster we get to light the fire and sit in front of it."

Gerard rubbed his fingers together quickly before shoving them deep into his coat pockets and followed Frank out of the door and into the winter morning.

"So, where is everything around here? I mean, I want to help with things, not just be a bum and do nothing all day." Gerard peered around himself at the various vegetable patches and animal shelters surrounding him.

"So," Frank begun. "To your right is the chicken coop. Four chickens in there; Henrietta, Patsy, Hope and Margie. That big patch of mud up there is the pigs. Seven of those at the moment; James, Randall, Hugh, Pig, Spot and Wesley. If you look behind you and to the right you'll see the barn," Gerard did and touched eyes on a large brown building roughly 100 metres behind the house. "In there," Frank continued, "are the cows. Four of those; Daisy, Maisy, Marigold and Angus. We also have sheep but we'll come to them later on. I think there are eight of them and I'm not sure I remember all their names."

"That's a lot of animals," Gerard chuckled. "Do you eat them all?"

A shocked expression fell onto Frank's face. "Oh no! We just use them for milk and eggs and things like that. Mr Johnson used to sheer the sheep and Maggie used to spin the wool so they could sell it but she hasn't done that since he went to war and the sheep need their coats now its winter."

"So, what are the pigs for?"

"I don't know? Something to do? It can get pretty lonely out in the country side; it's sometimes nice just to have the animals here too."

"Yeah, I guess." Gerard agreed and stopped next to Frank who was standing in front of a large mound of grass.

"This is the air raid shelter. I've only been down it once in the two month's I've been here. But just in case we need it, the code for the padlock is 2246."

Gerard took a gulp and looked nervously into the air. Nothing. "Only twice?" He questioned. "In London we were in the shelter almost every week. I guess they don't target the countryside so much. Why we've all been moved here."

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