Page 38 of The Holiday Cottage

In that moment, Imogen wished she did have a dog. Not fictitious Midas, but a real dog who would wag his tail and be pleased to see her no matter what.

The irony was that the life she’d invented for her colleagues had made her yearn for family even more than usual. Every time she described a family gathering, or a family member, she found herself wishing it was real.

She’d woken the other morning convinced that Midas was in the room, and she’d opened her eyes expecting to see those big brown eyes and wagging tail, but of course the room was empty, and the only noise came from the train, which ran so close to her apartment that the whole building shuddered every few minutes.

Snow dampened her hair and trickled down her neck.

She should move, she thought dully as she felt her fingers slowly start to freeze. She couldn’t feel her toes at all because her boots were built for fashion, not cold weather. She’d dressed to look smart and professional, not so that she could withstand arctic winds and barely above freezing temperatures.

Professional.

There was somewhere she was supposed to be. Where? She’d forgotten. Her mind was still in the room with her mother. No, not her mother. Tina. If she was the worst thing that had ever happened to Tina, then the best thing she could do was remove herself from her life permanently. She needed to stop pretending that they were a family.

She had no family. She had no one.

It was Christmas, and she’d never felt more alone.

In her pocket her phone buzzed, but she couldn’t summon the energy to answer it. The encounter with her mother had burned through the person she’d created, and all that was left was reality. She’d lost her energy and her confidence. She’d lost her drive and her belief in herself. There was nothing left except the stories she told herself. And they were as fake as the rest of her.

9

Dorothy

At the same time that Imogen was shivering alone on a bench, Dorothy was loading her overnight bag into her car.

She took a last look at the house, illuminated and glowing in the winter darkness thanks to Patrick, who had strung Christmas lights around the door and the eaves. It had never looked prettier, with its roof white from the light dusting of snow they’d had during the day and the trees gleaming white.

“Do you have to go tonight?” Sara huddled inside her coat. She’d been fretting for the past hour as they’d checked on all the animals. “I know it’s only six o’clock, but it’s already dark, the temperature is dropping and you have a couple of hours of driving ahead. Why not wait until morning and go in daylight?”

“Because then I’ll have to contend with traffic. This is the best time to drive into London. By the time I reach the outskirts all the commuter traffic will have died down. And I enjoy the journey. I’m listening to an excellent audiobook.” She checked that she had her phone and her laptop. “I do feel a little guilty leaving you to keep an eye on the animals while I’m gone. It’s a lot to ask.”

“It’s not a lot to ask. We’re family. I couldn’t even begin to list all the things you do for us. Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll be fine, won’t we, Ava?” Sara turned to smile at her youngest daughter only to find she’d disappeared. “Ava?Ava!Oh, where has she gone now? I need eyes in the back of my head and the sides. She was here a moment ago. Did you see her?”

“I was too busy loading the car. She can’t be far.” Dorothy felt a flash of disquiet and calmed it. Overreacting wasn’t going to help. “Bailey has gone too, so I assume they’re together.”

“Ava!” Sara yelled her daughter’s name and then gasped as a snowball hit her squarely in her chest.

Ava appeared from behind a bush, grinning, Bailey by her side. “Surprise!”

“Mmm.” Sara brushed snow from her coat. “You shouldn’t wander off, Ava. Not when it’s dark.”

“Bailey and I went to say good-night to Benson, and to tell him I’ll be looking after him for the next few days. I thought he should know.”

“I’m sure he was reassured to hear it.”

“It’s a very responsible task, Ava.” Dorothy bent and brushed snow from Ava’s hair. “I’m relying on you.”

“Don’t worry.” Ava patted her arm. “Everything will be fine.”

Dorothy straightened and looked at her daughter. “You’re sure you can manage?”

“Of course we can manage. It’s just a couple of nights. Stop worrying.” Sara grabbed Ava’s hand to stop her disappearing again. She’d pulled her wool hat down over her ears and the strands of hair that had escaped flicked and curled around her face like wisps of gold. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“Be careful with the bolt on Thelma’s stable. You know she has learned to let herself out.”

“I know.”

“And if you have any worries at all about the animals, call Miles.”

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