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And then I discovered all the trains were cancelled.

Double bollocks.

Rang Althea, wondering if she had any bright ideas.

Althea is like an encyclopaedia of London transport. She always knows which train station you can detour from, or whether a bus would be better.

She told me London transport was ‘buggered’, including trains, buses and taxis.

Apparently, the roads around Great Oakley were blocked too.

I phoned Laura, and she said to stay put and she’d come meet me. But in the meantime, I should try and book myself a hotel.

After dragging the stroller to every hotel around the station and finding them full (I even tried the King’s Cross Dalton and humiliatingly name-dropped Alex and Zachary), I sat on a bench in King’s Cross with a howling Daisy in my arms, wondering what I was going to do.

More and more people bundled into the station, covered in thick snow. It really was coming down. And it wasfreezingcold. Daisy’s cheeks were a sort of bluish colour. She had a snuffly nose and kept doing little fairy sneezes.

A band of church carol singers started singing by the coffee kiosk, I think in a bid to cheer us all up. But actually, the low tones of ‘Silent Night’ had an eerie Armageddon quality.

To be honest, I was feeling a bit scared. People were getting angry, shouting about the end of days. And some teenagers smashed WHSmith’s window.

I tried to call Laura again, but the signal was down. The whole network was jammed. I texted to say I was still at King’s Cross, but got no reply.

Daisy and I sat and waited – me eyeballing the train timetables like a crazy woman. But the same message kept flashing up over and over:

‘Happy Christmas! All Services Cancelled.’

I cuddled Daisy inside my coat, but I was still worried about the cold.

I knew things were bad when the Red Cross turned up with blankets – threadbare ones that looked distinctly Victorian orphanage.

I always thought I’d be dignified and polite in an emergency. But as soon as I saw the Red Cross man, I started yelling, ‘Over here! OVER HERE! HEY! I HAVE A BLOODY BABY, I NEED A BLANKET MORE THAN HE DOES!’

Then a deep voice behind me said, ‘Juliette. Here. I have a blanket for you.’

I turned around.

It was Alex. All tall and handsome in a black wool coat and leather gloves. Holding a fluffy beige blanket that looked a lot warmer than the Red Cross ones.

I said, ‘What areyoudoing here?’

He wrapped the blanket around me and Daisy and said, ‘Your sister told Zachary you were stuck. And he knew I was in the area. I’m taking you to the King’s Cross Dalton.’

I said, ‘But it’s full.’

Alex said, ‘Not for me it’s not.’

The hotel was like being in a Christmas movie – huge roaring log fire and big, thick carpets.

Lots of people were pretending to read newspapers. I got the feeling they weren’t actually staying in the hotel, but had snuck in to hide from the storm.

Daisy fell asleep as soon as she felt the warmth of the fire.

Then Alex took us to the Royal Suite on the top floor.

It was twice the size of Helen’s London apartment.

I kept saying thank you, but Alex got annoyed and said, ‘I heard you the first time. And the fourth.’