Page 78 of Winter With You

‘Yes, that’s what I meant.’

A few seconds passed by and then: ‘So, are there really going to be two more books like Cheyenne was talking about?’ Phoebe asked.

‘Oh, you heard that?’

‘It’s pretty hard not to hear Cheyenne’s voice wherever you are in this city and you were shouting.’

‘Yeah,’ Gabriella said with a sigh.

‘Yeah, you were shouting? Or yeah to the two more books?’

‘I don’t know, Phoebe. About the books.’ She really didn’t know. It all felt so wholly out of her control. If it ever had been in her control. She looked at her niece. ‘What do you think? About the books?’

Phoebe shrugged. ‘It depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On what the books would mean to you.’

Gabriella swallowed. Perhaps it was time for a bit of truth. She stopped walking, petted Mr Darcy on the head. ‘I don’t know what they would mean. I want them to help people, but I’m starting to wonder if they really are helping people or if they are just, I don’t know, papering over the cracks in people’s lives.’

She looked at Phoebe, her beautifully soft features coupled with that intense expression she always seemed to wear. She was still so young but, equally, so aware of life, perhaps too aware sometimes.

‘Do you want to know what I really think?’ Phoebe asked.

Gabriella nodded. ‘Of course I do.’

‘Well, I think Mum would want you to be living your life how you want to live it.’

‘I’m not sure what that has to do with me signing a new contract for more books,’ Gabriella said quickly.

‘It has everything to do with it,’ Phoebe countered. ‘Do you like writing, Gabriella?’

‘I like⁠—’

‘And don’t try to talk around the question,’ Phoebe interrupted. ‘I’m not Zeeta Friedmann.’

Gabriella sighed. Her niece sounded as astute as Luca right now. ‘I like sharing things about your mum. Her poems and her love of dance.’ That was truthful.

‘And how do you like it when people like Cheyenne change your words or take them out entirely or suggest a recipe section full of foods you know Mum would have hated? Ones I know you hate too.’

‘It’s a challenge,’ Gabriella said. ‘Admittedly.’

‘It’s not a challenge. It’s a pretence,’ Phoebe said, putting her fingers around Mr Darcy’s collar so he couldn’t run off. ‘It’s like when Grandmama invites all those people she doesn’t like to parties she doesn’t care about.’

‘She loves those parties,’ Gabriella countered.

‘No,’ Phoebe said firmly. ‘She has them to hide her grief and actually also to hide her shame.’

Gabriella shook her head. ‘She’s had those parties since before I was born.’

‘Classic repetitive behaviour to fool everyone around her and also trick herself that it’s some kind of normality.’ Phoebe sniffed like she hadn’t just delivered a truth bomb and headed towards an iron bench, taking Mr Darcy with her.

Gabriella took a breath. Was it true about her mother? If it was, why was it taking Phoebe to say it? She followed her niece’s path until she too was at the bench.

‘I know Grandmama isn’t a very good person,’ Phoebe continued. ‘And she knows she isn’t a very good person too.’

‘O-K?’