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Shaking her head to clear the memory, she forced herself to reach for the coat. Walter had no need for it, unlike the young man standing in her kitchen. A coat hanging on a peg served no purpose except to make her nostalgic. She should have disposed of it years ago, although now she was pleased she hadn’t. She didn’t believe in waste and maybe this coat would save a life.

Clutching the coat and resisting the urge to bury her nose in it to see if it still smelled of Walter, she stepped back into the kitchen.

When it came to caring for other people, she was rusty. She wasn’t sure that her skills in that area had ever been impressive, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try.

“Wear this.” She thrust it at Matt before she could change her mind. “It’s good quality. Kept my Walter dry in all weathers, including a few nor’-easters like this one. It has a warm lining.”

“You’re sure?” Matt took it from her and she gave a brief nod.

“I’m sure. He won’t be needing it. He died eight years ago.”

“I’m sorry.” Matt’s voice was soft and there was kindness in his eyes.

She wasn’t used to sympathy. It pricked holes in the armour she used to protect herself from the world.

“I’d lend you boots, but you’re a lot taller than he was, so I doubt they’d fit.” She kept her tone brisk. “I’ll put the light on at the front of the house. That should help you navigate. We can dry out your socks when you get back. Do you have a flashlight?”

“I’ll use my phone.”

“You might drop that. I’ll fetch you something less precious and more robust.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a flash-light. Walter had always insisted that they keep one on each floor of the house, just in case. Mabel had seen no reason to change that routine. “I always keep it where I can find it.”

After handing it to Matt, she followed him to the front door and switched on all the lights.

He paused, steeling himself, and then opened the door. The wind tore it from his hands and he staggered slightly.

So did Mabel.

“I’m not sure you’re going to be able to walk in this.”

He tugged the hood of Walter’s coat up over his head. “I’ll give it a try. Close the door, Mabel. You need to keep the house warm.”

It was good advice, but still, she waited a few seconds to check he was able to at least stay upright. It didn’t take long before the beam of his flashlight disappeared into the storm.

Mabel stared into the fury of white, and then with a sigh she closed the door and turned around.

Brooke was standing in the hallway with the children. The younger child was wriggling around like a grasshopper.

“Mabel, my younger daughter, Poppy, needs to use the bathroom. Is that possible? I feel bad for asking. This is such an imposition, I know.”

The bathroom. She mentally ran through what they might discover in there and nodded.

“It’s the door at the end of the hallway—behind you.”

“Thank you.” She vanished with the little girl, leaving Mabel alone with Elsie.

Elsie studied her closely.

“Mummy’s anxious.”

“Yes, I’m getting that.”

“She makes lots of lists and she worries if things don’t go to plan.”

“Right.” In her experience life never went to plan, but perhaps some people were better at life than she was.

“She’d planned to be at my Granny’s house for tea. That’s not going to happen, is it?”

“It seems unlikely.”