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It was strange how much the idea of that saddened her, given the horror she’d felt at the prospect of them being snowed in with her for Christmas.

She wasn’t sure how people could go from strangers to friends in such a short time, but somehow it had happened.

But nothing was permanent. She hadn’t really thought this small, cosy sanctuary they’d created would last forever, had she?

Despite the pang of sadness, her head felt clearer than it had in a while, and her mood felt lighter. And she knew why. After years of standing still, she was ready to move forward. And even if it ended badly and she had no response from Chrissie or, worse, an outright rejection, she knew she would never regret trying one more time.

She dressed quickly and went down to the kitchen. All four cats were waiting patiently, and she fed them and then walked through to the library to hunt through the boxes that Matt and Jason had brought down from the attic the day before.

Elsie was curled up on one of the sofas, reading with Brooke, but the moment she saw Mabel she sprinted across to her.

“The snow has stopped! Have you seen?”

“I have.” Mabel gave her shoulder a squeeze. “And now you can see my forest.”

“It’s beautiful,” Brooke said. “It’s like looking at a Christmas card.”

Was it Mabel’s imagination or was she looking a little less excited about the sunshine than her children?

Poppy had her nose pressed to the window. “I want to build a snowman.”

“We will. But we’re going to wait for everyone to wake up,” Brooke said, “and have some breakfast first.”

Elsie slipped her hand into Mabel’s. “Not-A-Cat—I mean, Crumpet—slept on my bed again last night. He wasn’t there when I went to sleep but then I woke up in the night and he was right next to me.”

“That’s because he knows a good thing when he sees one.”

“We’re going to get a cat when we get home, aren’t we, Mummy?”

Brooke closed the book. “Maybe.”

“I’d like a pony.” Poppy was still gazing out the window, her breath clouding the glass.

Elsie rolled her eyes. “Our garden is too small for a pony.”

Mabel walked across to the boxes that were tucked neatly behind the desk, out of sight.

The blue box wasn’t there.

“Is something wrong, Mabel?” Brooke put the book down and stood up.

“No. Not wrong.” Mabel sat down at her desk, breathing in the faint smell of wood smoke and leather. She’d spent many hours here. So many happy hours. “I was looking for a particular box, but it doesn’t seem to be here. Walter probably tucked it away out of sight.”

Brooke frowned. “Matt will go and look for it. Is it big? Small?”

“It’s small. Blue.”

“I’ve seen that box,” Elsie said. “It’s inside the big one that the tree came in. We were all excited about the tree and didn’t notice it, but I saw it this morning.”

She crossed the room and returned holding the blue box.

Mabel stared at it. Walter had stored it inside the box where the Christmas tree was stored. He’d known that she never would have gone looking for it, and he’d put it somewhere he’d known she’d find it. He’d intended them to see it at Christmas, but he’d died before that happened, and he hadn’t anticipated that she wouldn’t want to put the Christmas tree up without him.

She took the box from Elsie. “Thank you.”

“What’s in it? Is it decorations?”

“Elsie, can you go and see if Dad is ready for breakfast?” Brooke urged her daughter towards the door. “Once we’ve eaten, he and Poppy can go outside.”