Page 25 of The Cotswolds Christmas Fair

‘OK, then. Have fun with your niece and nephew.’

With that, he wound the window up and pulled away. And Jen had the distinct impression that he was laughing.

Chapter Eleven

It was a five-minute walk from the Airbnb to Railway Cottages, where Julia and her family lived, but Jen was still hot and bothered by the time she arrived. And more than a little cross.

She had the impression that Ted was hoping she’d learn some kind of lesson from all this. But she was perfectly capable of managing her own life, and the last thing she needed was her smug friend interfering. She wasn’t one of his bloody pupils.

Julia’s was the end of the terrace, the furthest from the station. It was a sweet-looking building with a large, wood-framed window at the front that had a little bench underneath it and a porch at the side. There was a wreath of holly and ivy on the door and Jen could see a Christmas tree twinkling in the front room. The children had wriggled between the tree and the window, and before Jen had even reached the door, she saw their faces pressed up against the glass, leaving a wet mist from their breath.

They shrieked when they saw her, little George sliding off the stool he’d climbed onto and Amy waving frantically as she yelled, ‘She’s here, she’s here!’ at the top of her voice. Despite herself, Jen couldn’t help but smile at this reception.

Julia swung the door open, beaming, and a little tabby cat shot out from between her legs, racing through the snow. ‘I’m so glad you decided to come, the children are beside themselves with excitement, but don’t let that put you off, we’re not always this much of a mad house, I promise! Wait – where are your friends?’ She peered past Jen to the empty road behind her, where the snow showed evidence only of the cat’s and Jen’s footprints, and the tracks made by her bag. ‘Didn’t someone drop you off? That rotten lot!’

Jen chose not to disillusion her.

‘I’d have come and got you if I’d known,’ Julia said. ‘Anyway, I’m gabbling, come in, come in.’

She leaned forward slightly, an instinct to embrace her sister, but stopped herself and stepped back. Behind her the children were jumping up and down, Amy chanting ‘Auntie Jen, Auntie Jen!’ repeatedly, and George, in a fluffy green onesie, shouting incoherently.

‘I’m not staying,’ Jen said, rather ungraciously, and immediately regretted it as she saw a pinch of pain pass over Julia’s face. Damn it.

She shouldn’t care, she told herself. Julia had hurt her far more badly than this, hadn’t she?

But she did care, and she grudgingly thought that Ted had a point; she and Julia had been so close, as children and through adolescence, and no matter what had happened between them, Jen couldn’t deal with being the person who made her sister’s face look like that.

‘But thank you,’ she muttered. ‘It’s really kind of you to have me.’

Julia smiled, her eyes brightening the way they always did when she was happy, and Jen couldn’t help feeling a surge of affection for her.

She sighed. This was why she didn’t want to come here. She’d have to work really hard to keep her resolve, to remind herself of the hurt Julia had caused her. The sooner she could get back home, the better.

The children, having finished their jumping-chanting dance, launched themselves at her and landed against her legs with a thud of warm, solid flesh.

Julia smiled and ruffled their tousled heads. ‘All right, I know you’re excited, but give Auntie Jen a bit of space, she’s probably tired.’

Jen shook her head. ‘It’s OK, I’m fine.’ She crouched down so that she was level with the children, and George threw his arms around her neck, cooing ‘Aaaahhh,’ while Amy tugged on her hand and demanded that she come and see the room they’d prepared for her.

Jen felt an overwhelming rush of love, and memories of a different pair of chubby arms around her neck resonated through her body, hitting her like a tidal wave. Unable to speak for a moment, she simply crouched in her sister’s hallway, holding on to her niece and nephew as though she’d never let them go, and tried not to think of all the hugs she’d missed over the years.

‘Come on, come on,’ Amy said, bouncing up and down, pulling on Jen’s hand. ‘Come and see your room, we’ve got it all ready and nice for you and I helped Mummy, but George tried to help, but epcept he was just really making a mess and climbing on the bed and trying to hide in the clean nice covers, weren’t you, Georgie?’

Amy, who had been pulling Jen up the stairs as she chattered, gave her brother a glare. He, crawling up the stairs behind them, grinned in response.

‘This is your one,’ Amy said. She dragged Jen to a room with a slatted wooden door that had a piece of paper stuck on, which said ‘Arnty Jen’ in wobbly, multicoloured letters. Red and pink hearts surrounded the writing, and the whole thing had been scribbled over in green wax crayon.

‘I love the sign!’ Jen said.

‘George did the green,’ Amy said, giving her brother, who was now wriggling in his mum’s arms, a black look.

‘It’s lovely,’ Jen said. ‘Thank you.’

Julia opened the door, revealing a cosy room with a sloping ceiling, a fireplace and an iron-framed bed. The latticed window showed a view of the railway line and, beyond, snow-covered fields. Tinsel hung from the mirror on the dressing table and an array of soft toys sat on the patchwork bedding.

‘The children went to town a bit,’ Julia said, a note of apology in her voice. ‘They wanted you to feel welcome.’

‘Do you like it?’ Amy asked, beaming with pride.