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“That’s my daughter.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. “Her name is Chrissie.”

Brooke crossed the room in brisk strides. “Elsie, put the photo back where you found it, honey. It’s not polite to take something from someone else’s drawer, nor to ask questions.”

“I don’t mind.” Mabel sank down onto the chair. She’d put the photo away because she couldn’t bear to see those faces smiling at her every time she walked into the room, a visible reminder of failings and loss. “You’re probably wondering where my daughter is. We don’t see each other anymore.”

Elsie put the photo down carefully. “Is it because she lives far away?”

“No. She doesn’t live that far away.” And that had made it worse. A special kind of torture. “Less than an hour in the car.”

“So why can’t you see her?”

“She doesn’t want to see me, honey, and that’s my fault.” The past hovered in her brain, pointing fingers and assigning blame. “I wanted to be the best mother there ever was, but when things became difficult, I did everything wrong. You see, she did something I really didn’t want her to do. I put pressure on her, and it’s wrong for a parent to pressure a child no matter how worried they might be.” She looked at Brooke and saw that her eyes were glistening.

“What did she do?” Elsie looked confused. “Was she naughty?”

Mabel tried to smile. “No.” Her throat felt thickened. “No, she wasn’t naughty. But she took a risk that I didn’t want her to take. And what I should have realised was that it wasn’t my decision, it was hers. I thought about me, when I should have been thinking about her. I loved her very much and I was desperate to protect her. But really, if you love someone a lot, you have to let them do what they need to do and support them anyway. You have to put their feelings ahead of your own. If I had my time again, I would do everything differently. Say everything differently.”

Elsie took her hand. “Did you use the wrong words?”

“Yes.” Mabel tried to pull herself together. “I used all the wrong words. And I’d do anything for a chance to put that right. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t say anything at all. I’d just hug her. And hope she would hug me back.”

There was a long silence. Snow swirled and danced beyond the glass, and the wind still battered the house. How long could this storm last? It seemed relentless. Like regret. That had also proved to be relentless.

“I can hug you.” Elsie put her arms around her. “Did you try saying sorry?”

Mabel couldn’t breathe. The warmth of that hug melted that frozen-hard feeling that had been lodged in her chest for what felt like forever. What sort of a person was she that she’d take comfort from a little girl?

The sort of person who hasn’t been hugged in a long time.

She eased Elsie onto her lap. “At the time, it was all too complicated and after—I didn’t get the chance.”

Elsie was silent. “You could write her a letter.”

“I could. You’re right.” Such a simple statement, with no acknowledgement of the barriers that lay in the way of that action. Pain. Pride. And fear. So much fear, because another rejection would be agonising. Like breaking your leg in the same place twice.

And what would she say? After all this time, what would she say?

“Christmas is a good time to write letters,” Elsie said. “She might like having a letter. Did you write to Santa?”

Mabel floundered. Did Elsie believe in Santa? She didn’t want to get this wrong.

“I didn’t want to distract him,” she said vaguely. “It’s a busy time of year for him.”

“We could write him a letter together. He’ll see it when he comes to deliver presents for us.”

Mabel was touched by the child’s simple belief that everything would be fine. That a positive outcome was possible. A small, faint light flickering in the darkness.

“Maybe we’ll do that.” She took a breath and pulled herself together. “But first, we have a book to write.”

Elsie gave her a final hug and slid off her lap. “Maybe we could write a book that sort of says sorry. Then you could send it to her. And she’d know it was about you.”

“That’s a very thoughtful idea.”

Mabel’s mind drifted back to the duck.

I’m sorry, Careless Witch, if I said the wrong thing,

I’ll remember next time that words can sting.