Page 12

Generally, she liked living alone. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that she was used to it. But right now she would have liked another human in the house. Only for protection, of course. She told herself that the cats were enough, but they weren’t enough when it came to defending against intruders intent on mischief.

“We chose this house precisely because it’s out of town and hidden in the trees. If we’d wanted people to drop by and visit then we would have bought a house on Main Street. We would have put out a welcome mat. Do they see a welcome mat? No, they do not.”

Gripping the broom like a weapon she walked out of the kitchen to the living room.

“I’m not opening that front door, but I’d like to see who it is,” she told the cats. “Get a description for the police.”

Not that the police were likely to be much help in this weather. They’d be hunkered down in the warm.

The window in the living room curved in an elegant bay and in more favourable weather gave a perfect view across to the front door.

Right now, her view was obscured by the dense fall of snow but she could just about make out the figure of a man. He had his back to her, but she could see he looked tall and powerfully built, his bulk exaggerated by the thick layers of snow coating his hair and shoulders.

Mabel’s tension rose. “I don’t know what he wants, but I’m not letting him in. Not even if—oh!” The man shifted his position and Mabel peered through the blizzard at the small figure clutching at his coat. “There’s a child.”

Her heart stopped. Could it be? Was that possible?

Joy made her giddy. Tears stung her eyes and she placed her hand on the window. Maybe miracles really did happen at Christmas.

And then the man moved again and she saw the woman, holding another child.

Hope withered and her breathing hitched.

“Silly me,” she muttered to the cats. “That’s what happens when you live alone for so long. You hallucinate.” It was wishful thinking, that was all. She sniffed and pulled herself together. “Look! Can you see? Two children. And a woman. I think it’s a woman. Hard to tell with all the snow. But children, definitely. Which gives us a problem. We can’t leave them out there, can we?”

Her resolve wavered.

Why did there have to be children?

Crumpet sprang onto the windowsill, perching on the narrow ledge with the grace and balance of an athlete. He turned his head to look at her.

“I know! I see them. No need to give me that look. Now what?” Mabel was annoyed to be faced with such a dilemma. More than anything, she wanted to return to the cup of tea she’d been enjoying in the kitchen but how could she do that now? She had a generally low opinion of humans as a species, and she knew there were people who held the same opinion about her. But even though she undoubtedly deserved some of the criticism thrown in her direction, she wasn’t a murderess.

Reluctantly, she turned away from the window and headed to the door.

She’d do this because it was the right thing to do, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be careful and cautious.

She wasn’t the same trusting fool she’d once been. She’d answer the door, but she’d be on her guard. And she wouldn’t let them out of her sight.

Drawing back the curtain she’d hung to keep out draughts, she unbolted the door. It took a while, but eventually she eased the heavy wooden door open a crack. The wind surged through the gap, shrieking with fury and almost tearing it from her hands. Snow fluttered into the hallway.

“Oh, thank goodness.” The woman was clutching the younger child close, trying to shield her from the wind and snow. “We had an accident.”

There had been a time when Mabel wouldn’t have questioned that, but life had taught her to be suspicious.

People staged accidents all the time, didn’t they? On the other hand, the woman’s relief was so palpable it was hard to believe she was faking it.

Mabel shifted her attention to the children. Specifically, the oldest child, who was now shivering on the doorstep, holding tightly to her father’s hand.

Snow dusted her eyelashes and clung to the hood of her coat. A scarf, now snow-encrusted, had been wrapped haphazardly around her mouth and nose. The only part of her that was visible was her eyes, which were a clear, vibrant blue.

Punched in the chest by memories and emotion, Mabel took a step backwards.

Those eyes.

The likeness was extraordinary. It was like looking into the past.

Why was the universe choosing today to torment her?