Ava wrinkled her nose. “I suppose you have to find yourself a herd, like the alpacas.” She fed Benson a carrot. “My mummy had a sister, but she went away, so she’s an only child too now.”
“Ava!” Sara’s face was as pale as her surroundings. “That’s enough.”
“I was just saying—”
“Ava, stop,” Iris said quickly, “you know Mummy doesn’t like to talk about that.”
“I know. Because it makes her sad. But she has us, and Daddy, so she’s not sad now. We’re her herd.” Ava jumped off the gate and tugged at Imogen. “Come and see our pony, Thelma.” Oblivious to the tense atmosphere, she skipped through the snow toward the stables.
Dorothy put her hand on Sara’s arm, but her daughter shook her off and walked quickly after Ava.
Dorothy watched in despair. Ava was too young to know what to say and what to keep back. This wasn’t Ava’s fault, it was hers. Sara was right. She never should have invited Imogen. She’d stirred up a hornet’s nest and that was not a good thing.
Iris, sensitive to everyone’s moods, looked unhappy. “Shall we have lunch, Nanna?”
“Lunch?” Dorothy dragged her gaze from Sara’s stiff shoulders to her granddaughter’s worried eyes. “Good idea. Let’s do that.”
Iris followed her mother and sister, picking her way carefully so that she didn’t slip.
Ava was stroking Thelma, having seemingly forgotten the conversation about siblings.
“It’s time for lunch,” Dorothy said. “You need to come in and wash your hands, Ava.”
“Iris needs to wash hers too.” Ava gave Thelma a final pat and they all headed back to the house.
“I had no idea you had so many animals,” Imogen said. She looked flushed and happy as she glanced back at the pony. “This is a beautiful place.”
“I’ll show you around the vineyard at some point,” Dorothy said. She’d be able to make that a purely professional trip. “It would be interesting for you, particularly as you’ve been working on our products for so long.”
“I’d like that.”
Back in the kitchen they savored the warmth and the delicious smells of cooking.
The girls washed their hands, supervised by a subdued Sara, while Dorothy busied herself putting the finishing touches to the lunch.
“Five-minute warning. Wash your hands, girls. Imogen, there’s a cloakroom right across the hallway if you need it. The towel is clean.”
Imogen vanished and Dorothy put the chicken in the center of the table, followed by dishes of roasted vegetables and potatoes.
Sara looked exhausted, and Dorothy felt guilty because she knew she was the cause of it.
Once lunch was over, she’d take Imogen back to Holly Cottage and that would be it. She’d give her a phone number in case of emergencies. Other than that, she’d be leaving Imogen alone.
“That looks yummy.” Ava knelt on her chair, and Sara gestured to her to sit properly.
Dorothy pulled the warm plates out of the oven, while Iris and Sara finished laying the table.
There was no sign of Imogen.
Dorothy glanced toward the door, hoping she was all right.
She was about to carve when the cloakroom door finally opened and Imogen appeared.
She looked ashen.
Concerned, Dorothy immediately put the knife down. “Whatever is the matter, dear? Are you feeling unwell?”
“The pictures on the wall of the cloakroom—”