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They all trooped along the corridor to an identical staircase.

Mabel felt her heart rate increase. She hadn’t been in here for a long time. For years, she hadn’t been able to walk into this room at all, but finally, she’d forced herself to do it. Forced herself to accept the way things were. But still, it wasn’t easy.

She opened the door, her movements tentative even though it made no sense. What could she feel that she hadn’t already felt?

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to step inside so she stood and waved them in, as if it was entirely normal not to want to enter a room in her own house.

She heard the gasps as they stepped into the room.

“Oh, Mabel—” Brooke glanced around her. “You have almost a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view. This is incredible.”

For a moment she saw the room as a stranger might. The windows started at waist height and circled the room. Below the windows were bookshelves, built into the curve, with seating above. Walter had made the shelves and the window seat. It had taken him one entire summer, a lacerated thumb and a great deal of dust. Once finished, she’d made a seat out of foam and rich velvet and added plenty of cushions.

The only section without windows was behind the large bed.

“At the moment it’s a view of the storm, but hopefully that will change.”

And then she realised that was a foolish thing to say because once the storm eased sufficiently to see properly out the turret windows, they’d be gone. They’d be getting back to their lives and she’d be getting back to her life, and once again the door to this room would be closed and would remain so. It represented a part of her life that she couldn’t bear to remember.

She turned to the couple who had been last to arrive. She remembered the girl saying that they were colleagues and nothing else. Well, she hoped they at least liked each other because they were going to be sharing this room. “Will you be all right here?”

“All right?” Izzy was gazing around her. “We couldn’t be more all right.”

Mabel was relieved. They obviously had a good relationship.

“You’ll find fresh linens in the cupboards. And the bathroom is through that door. It’s small, but functional.”

Elsie wandered into the middle of the room and turned a circle. “This is a lot like Tripalot’s house.” She gazed up at the soaring ceiling. “That has turrets, and she lives in a forest.”

“Mmm.” Mabel made a point of sounding purposefully vague. “I’m sure there are plenty of houses that fit that description.”

“I doubt it.” Izzy shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like this place. You’re right, Elsie, it is like Tripalot’s house.”

“It’s kind of you to accommodate us like this,” Brooke said, and Mabel decided not to point out that she hadn’t been given much choice. There was nowhere else she could send them. Nowhere close that might be able to provide alternative sanctuary.

She wasn’t thrilled about it, but presumably neither were they.

She could tell Brooke was straining every muscle to pretend she was happy with the situation when she wasn’t happy at all.

“This is the room of my dreams,” Izzy said, and then she seemed to pull herself together. “Is there somewhere for Jason to sleep?”

Mabel stared at her. Clearly, the girl had misunderstood, which might explain why she’d been so relaxed about it.

“He’ll have to sleep in here,” she said. “With you. It’s the only room left. I can put some blankets on the sofa if you like, and—”

“Thank you.” Jason’s voice was warm and reassuring. “We’ll be fine, won’t we, Izzy?”

For the first time since she’d stepped through the door, Izzy’s smile seemed strained. “Yes. Fine. No problem.”

Mabel knew she was rusty when it came to interpreting body language, but she was pretty sure Izzy wasn’t fine at all. But there was nothing she could do about that.

“You must tell me if there’s anything else you need.” Immediately as the words left her mouth she wanted to snatch them back. They were going to need a great number of things and it was doubtful she’d be able to provide many of them.

“We’ll all help,” Brooke said, and Izzy turned from her close examination of the bookshelves that curved around the room under the window seat.

“Joint effort. We’ll take it in turns cooking and clearing up.”

Cooking.