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Even in the short time they’d been together, Mabel had seen how hard Brooke tried to be a good mother. How she fought to control the world around her. Mabel could have told her that she might as well give up on that and relax. However much you cared, however much you tried, you would still mess it up at some point, and the sooner you accepted that, the better for everyone.

The wind gave an angry shriek, and something hit the window.

Elsie flinched. “I don’t like storms. Do you?”

“I don’t mind them.”

“Houses can blow away.”

“That isn’t going to happen.” She wanted to say something comforting but when it came to talking to young children, she was out of practice. “This house has been standing for a long time. I’m sure it will stay standing.”

Fortunately, Brooke reappeared at that moment, Poppy in her arms.

She lowered the child onto the nearest chair. “Stay here, girls. I’m going to the window to watch for Daddy.”

Elsie stared at her. “Why? Is he going to die?”

“No, of course not.” Brooke’s voice was bright and cheery. “Daddy will be fine. Why would you say that?”

“You looked worried. And the snow is very deep.”

Poppy slid off the chair, rose on tiptoe and twirled like a ballerina.

“Sit still for five minutes, honey. I don’t want you knocking into anything.” Brooke lifted her back onto the chair. “Daddy will manage. He has long legs and he’s very strong.”

“What if the wind blows him over?”

“He’ll get right up again. Try not to worry, Elsie.” She dropped a kiss onto the child’s head. “I’m going to look out of the window.”

“I’ll come, too.” Elsie was off the chair in a moment and in the end, they all trooped to the window.

“I don’t see a thing,” Brooke said. “The storm seems worse. Does it seem worse to you, Mabel?”

It seemed a great deal worse, but she wasn’t ready to admit it.

She was still thinking about her conversation with Elsie.

Does that mean we’ll be spending Christmas here with you?

That possibility hadn’t occurred to her before the child had mentioned it, but now she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

No, it couldn’t happen. She spent Christmas on her own. That was what she did. And she survived. She didn’t spend it with strangers.

And what if Matt was right that another car had crashed into theirs? What if it was another family? More children?

Her heart started to pound. She survived by not looking at the past. By not thinking about the past. By telling herself this is fine, this life is fine and it suits me.

But now this family with their charming, inquisitive children had peeped behind the curtain she’d drawn between herself and the world.

“Mummy?” Elsie knelt on the window seat, her breath steaming up the window.

“What, honey?”

“Mabel doesn’t have a Christmas tree.”

“Oh—” Brooke smoothed her daughter’s hair. “Well, not everyone celebrates Christmas, you know that. And not everyone likes a tree.”

“Mabel likes them and she always used to have a tree, but she doesn’t anymore. And because that makes her sad, she tries not to think about it.”