Page 94 of The Holiday Cottage

Imogen pushed her hair back from her face. “Ralph! Come here.”

Ralph rocketed toward her and screeched to a halt at her feet, a dopey look on his face.

“Sit,” Imogen said, and Ralph sat, tail wagging.

“You see what I mean?” Miles shook his head in disbelief. “That’s it. You’re taking him back to London with you.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Imogen said, and Ava looked crestfallen.

“I don’t want Imogen to go back to London. I want her to stay here forever and ever and be my friend. Do you have a star for the top of your tree, Imogen?” She twirled on the spot, almost falling over Bailey, who wanted to be part of the fun.

“I don’t have a star.” Imogen reached out and steadied Ava before she could lose her balance.

“What about the other decorations?”

“I can help with that.” Sara produced a box tied with a big red bow and handed it to Imogen. “A little gift.”

“For me?” Imogen took it, bemused. “What is it?”

“You have to open it to see! I’ll help.” Ava reached for the ribbon, but Iris pulled her away.

“Be gentle! You have to let people open their own presents.”

“Let’s do it together.” Imogen crouched down in front of Ava. “You pull the ribbon and I’ll take off the paper.”

Ava pulled, and the ribbon slithered to the floor, followed by the packaging.

Inside the package was a box of silver decorations. Some were plain and some had a delicate snowflake motif.

“They’re gorgeous.” Imogen lifted one out of its packaging and looked up at Sara. “You bought these for me?”

“I assumed you didn’t have any, and you’re going to need them year after year, so—” Sara gave a self-conscious shrug “—this is the beginning of your collection.”

Imogen gazed at the box for a moment and then blinked and stood up. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And you’ll find it’s an advantage that Miles is tall because he’ll be able to reach the top of the tree.”

“I’m intrigued to see how much damage Ralph can do,” Miles said. “So far it seems he has a loose relationship with ‘sit’ and ‘stay.’”

“Come into the living room and warm up. I thought we’d eat early, but there’s time for a drink first. I made a batch of mince pies.” Dorothy ushered them all into the living room, and the children headed straight for the tree and the presents underneath.

Ava grabbed one and shook it.

“Stop it.” Iris took it from her. “You’re going to break it, and it might not even be for you.”

“It has my name on it.”

An hour passed in excited chaos, and when Dorothy excused herself to make some last-minute preparations in the kitchen, Sara followed.

“What can I do?”

“Mash the potatoes?” Dorothy drained them and put the pan down for Sara to finish them off. She was desperate to know how the day had gone, how Sara had felt about it and whether it had been awkward. But given that they could be disturbed at any moment, she kept her question simple. “How was your day?”

“It was magical. The snow helped, of course. I don’t think we’ve ever had snow before on our Christmas tree day. The forest was pretty. Imogen seemed to enjoy it. She found a great tree. Or rather, Ava found a great tree she insisted Imogen should have.” Sara mashed the potatoes, tipped them into a dish and slid them back into the oven to keep warm. Then she looked at her mother. “It was good. Better than I was expecting. Easier. How about you? You’ve been in the kitchen all day.”

“For some of it. And I did some thinking.”

“About?”

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