Page 29 of The Cotswolds Christmas Fair

He shook her off. ‘Hello to you, too.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘I’m working.’ He indicated the crowds of parents and children, a number of whom were blatantly staring and listening.

Jen guessed that there wasn’t much in the way of excitement for the residents of Babblebrook. She ignored them.

‘Please. There’s no trains and you know I can’t stay another night with—’

Ted frowned. ‘Is this why you came? To pester me?’

Stung, Jen let go of his arm and stepped away. She couldn’t believe he’d said that to her. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I came because I wanted to spend time with Amy.’

Ted looked suitably sheepish. ‘Oh. Sorry. It’s just you’re not usually up this early so . . .’

‘A girl can change, can’t she?’

‘Look . . .’ Ted waved and smiled at a passing dad and his children. ‘Why don’t you go to the café with Julia? She and her friends go most mornings, I think. You never know, you might even enjoy it.’

Jen snorted. ‘I’d rather stick my tongue in a jam jar and kiss a wasp.’

Ted laughed and shook his head. ‘Don’t bee rude.’

She pulled a face. ‘Despite your terrible sense of humour I’d still rather crash with you. Doesn’t that tell you how desperate I am?’

He sighed. ‘Look, I’ll meet you in the café after work, OK? We can talk then.’

He was gone before she had the chance to respond.

Jen walked back, trying not to admire the prettiness of the cottages and the little snowman that now sat on top of the postbox. She wasn’t happy to be stuck in boring Babblebrook, nor with perfect Julia, who she knew was very far from perfect, despite what everyone else thought. But she had to admit that she was enjoying seeing her niece and nephew. No doubt Dan was struggling with having to look after his own child for five minutes; she’d go and relieve him of his parenting duties. That way she could avoid spending time with Julia and still salve her conscience.

No one locked their door in Babblebrook, and Julia and Dan were no different. She walked in, expecting to hear George wailing and Dan panicking. Instead she found Dan sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop and a cup of coffee, George at his feet, playing happily with a wooden tea set.

Jen stamped the snow off her boots and wriggled out of her coat. ‘Oh. I thought you might need help.’

Dan looked up, smiling, and then pretended to drink out of the cup George held out for him. ‘Delicious!’ he said, and George beamed. Dan turned to Jen. ‘Thanks, but I think we’re OK. Aren’t we, mate?’

George nodded and held out the cup to Jen. She pretended to drink.

‘I think Julia usually goes to the café after the school run,’ Dan said, his tone falsely light. ‘Why don’t you join her? I’ve got this little man covered.’

Jen suppressed a sigh. Why was everyone so keen to force her to spend time with her sister. ‘She’s with her friends, she doesn’t need me there.’

Dan looked at her steadily. ‘I know she’d love to spend time with you.’

Jen shook her head. He didn’t push it. Absently, she called to the cat as it trotted into the kitchen, but it hissed at her and ran away. She watched George, so sweet and solid in his onesie as he sat on the floor, babbling as he poured from an empty toy teapot. She wished she’d spent more time with him and Amy. She wished she was a regular part of their lives.

Dan, who had been watching her expression, shifted in his seat. ‘Well, you know, I actually do have a lot of work today. So if you’re happy to help out with Georgie, that would be . . .’

‘Oh. Well, if it would help.’

Dan smiled. ‘You know, it really would.’

Jen bent down and held her arms out, and George happily toddled into them. ‘Hey Georgie,’ she said, lifting him onto her hip. ‘Shall we go upstairs and play?’

‘He loves that train set you sent him,’ Dan called.

She spent a happy hour or two playing with Georgie, setting up the train set and pushing the little wooden trains around. He gave a full-throated chuckle when she called ‘choo-choo!’ as she pushed the train through the tunnel, and she found herself laughing with him. His joy was contagious. It was a long time since she’d let herself remember the pure pleasure of making small children happy, of knowing they felt safe with her.