Page 39 of The Cotswolds Christmas Fair

‘We made a really pretty and good one last time and Mummy wouldn’t let me eat any of the sweets, but epcept I think Auntie Jen will, won’t you, Auntie Jen?’

Amy turned her hopeful little face up to Jen, and Jen knew that she wouldn’t be able to resist that look. There was a good chance more sweets would be eaten this year.

Marnie laughed. ‘That’s the advantage of being the auntie, isn’t it?’ she said, smiling. ‘Would you like to choose one each, girls?’ Lottie and Amy immediately peered into the wheelbarrow, pointing and debating as they made the very serious decision as to which house would be the best, as Marnie’s daughter bent down to help them choose. Marnie looked at Jen. ‘Is it OK if Lottie gets hers now? Poor Michelle’s got a stinking cold, hasn’t she, I don’t want to disturb her.’

Marnie and her daughter made their way to the next house, and Jen ushered the excited girls back in. She immediately mixed some icing and raided the kitchen for chocolate buttons, hundreds and thousands and little sugar balls; the children were so excited, she knew they were keen to start decorating straight away.

A happy hour followed, as they blobbed icing onto the gingerbread houses in great quantities, so that it trickled down every surface, and proceeded to fill every gap with the sweets. Their excited chatter filled the room. Jen pretended not to see when Lottie and Amy, their eyes bright with mischief, not-so-secretly popped sweets into their mouth, and when George, still in his highchair, spread icing all over his face and head. His lack of hair was a distinct advantage here, she decided.

By the time Julia and Dan appeared in the kitchen, every surface was sticky, every child smeared with icing and chocolate, and the gingerbread houses were groaning under the weight of a plethora of sweet treats.

‘I’ll tidy it all up,’ Jen said quickly, as the adults glanced around at the devastation.

Julia, still looking pale but a little refreshed after her sleep, smiled. ‘You look like you’ve all had fun!’

‘Wow,’ Dan said, kissing Amy’s sticky cheek. ‘These look amazing, you’ve done a great job.’

Amy glowed, and not just from a sugar high.

‘Thanks,’ Julia said softly. ‘This was really nice of you. You’ll have to come to the café when she displays them all.’

Jen smiled and nodded, even though, as her phone buzzed in her pocket with what she very much hoped was a message from Anthony, she thought that she couldn’t imagine anything worse than all that forced Christmas cheer. With a bit of luck, she would no longer be in Babblebrook by then.

‘Right,’ Julia said, lifting a squirming George out of his highchair and laughing at the scattering of sugar balls that fell from him and onto the floor. ‘Bathtime.’

‘Come on, Lottie,’ Jen said. ‘I’ll take you home.’ The little girl was too busy working her tongue around her face in search of sugary treats to answer. Jen frowned. ‘Let’s give you a wipe first.’

The message had been from Anthony, and they spent the next few days talking. Every so often he left her hanging, leaving a message of hers read but unanswered. And Jen found herself, on those days, plunged into a storm of feelings – panic that he had lost interest in her, anger that he’d strung her along only to ignore her; hope that there was a logical reason for his silence and that she would hear from him again soon; humiliation that she was allowing herself to be shaken by it.

She drafted messages to him. Sometimes they were faux-casual – Hey, I’ve decided to re-read a Brontë, you a fan? Sometimes they were accusatory – Hey, just wondering if everything’s OK? Haven’t heard from you in a while. Sometimes bold – Hey. I really like you, let’s meet again.

None of them were ever sent.

She cursed herself for being so stupid as to let herself care again, let herself be vulnerable to the whim of another’s interest in her. The sickening self-doubt was all too familiar, and something she’d sworn she would never allow herself to feel again. She threw herself into playing with the children as a distraction.

The more she focused on Amy and George, and Lottie when she was visiting, and the more she thought of cute Christmassy activities to do with them, the less she cared about Anthony’s silence. She would go whole hours without even thinking of him.

Eventually, he would message, making no reference to his silence. She was so relieved to hear from him, she didn’t care.

He wasn’t obliged to message, she knew that. They weren’t together, they weren’t even dating. But she felt that there was something special between them, and he’d given her the impression that he felt the same way.

She kept busy to avoid constantly checking her phone, constantly thinking of him and replaying their conversations in her mind. Because when he wasn’t responding, she felt the stirring of old feelings, feelings that she knew she needed to keep in check. She couldn’t let herself get overwhelmed, as she had once before.

And when he asked her if she wanted to go to the art gallery in Waterfield with him, she tried to sound casual in her response. Even when he replied with It’s a date x.

She imagined herself walking through the gallery with Anthony, dazzling him with her wit and knowledge of the artworks that hung there, his gorgeous blue eyes filled with admiration.

The open mic was the night before, so perhaps she would have the chance to swot up on a bit of culture. Though she doubted it, somehow.

By the time the open mic night came around the roads were clearing and the trains were running again. Jen had been planning to return to her normal life soon after her date with Anthony.

That was before Julia started sneezing and coughing.

‘You’re not well,’ Jen said, watching as Julia tried to clean up the kitchen while wiping her streaming nose.

‘I’m fine,’ she croaked, as a coughing fit overtook her and she gave up, sinking into a chair. She lay her head on the table. ‘I’ll be fine. I just need an early night.’

Jen watched her sister as she lurched upright and began sneezing continuously into a woefully inadequate tissue. She tried to remember all the reasons she was angry with Julia, but all she could see right now was the girl she’d grown up with, her confidante and partner in mischief, trying to struggle on when she should clearly be in bed.