Page 71 of The Cotswolds Christmas Fair

‘What else do you do when you’re not working?’ he asked. He seemed slightly nervous, and she found it endearing.

‘I like hiking,’ she said. ‘And classic films.’

They moved up the queue, and Jen found herself willing the person in front of her to have a library fine just to extend the time she had talking to David. And then felt guilty. No good bookworm would wish such a horrible fate on a fellow reader.

‘Oh, I thought a young thing like you would be spending her evenings dancing the night away,’ David was saying. He pulled a face. ‘Or whatever young people call it these days.’

She laughed. ‘Come on, you’re not old.’

He said nothing, his blue eyes taking her in. Cautious, but hopeful.

And that was how it began.

She fell for him fast and hard. He was older – thirty-four to her twenty-two. But she liked that. Boys her age were only after one thing, they couldn’t be trusted not to break your heart. But David was a grown-up, he had responsibilities, he’d been hurt and survived. He knew how to commit.

They spent a glorious summer getting to know each other – watching films, going for walks, sometimes just snuggled on the sofa watching TV after Martha was in bed. He was a great cook, and he taught her how to sauté and season, to baste and broil. She’d never be Ella Mills, but being in the kitchen with him was fun, and she certainly loved eating the results. She reintroduced him to the joy of reading, and they would spend afternoons curled up together, with their noses in a book, and then share their thoughts on what they’d read.

And then there was Martha.

Jen fell in love with her even more than she did with David, if that was possible. The little girl was soon besotted with her, and they spent hours together, playing and reading stories. While David was working, Jen took Martha to the playground and the zoo and the local farm park. She kept her entertained with craft activities and baking and playdates.

The night before term began, Jen read Martha a story and put her to bed while David cooked a special meal. The little girl snuggled into her cosy duvet that had yellow teddy bears on and sucked her thumb.

‘Are you my mummy now?’ she asked, her voice drowsy as Jen stroked her blonde hair.

Jen laughed. But something in her sparked alight; she felt, for the first time, that her future was mapped out, and that it was good. She wanted nothing more than to begin her career, to become this adorable child’s mum, and to plan a life with David. Perhaps one day they would add to their little family.

She floated down the stairs, to where the delicious smell of garlic, beef and tomato filled the kitchen; David was cooking spaghetti bolognaise. It wasn’t the most complicated of the dishes he made, but it was one of her favourites.

‘You’ll never guess what Martha just said to me, it was so cute,’ she said.

He placed two bowls of food on the table and untied his apron. ‘Was it that you’re her favourite person ever and much better than that bloke that keeps hanging round the house, cooking her meals and washing her clothes?’

She laughed, kissing him and then sitting down. ‘As if, she loves her daddy. No, she asked if I’m her mummy now.’

‘Did she?’ he said softly, raising his eyebrows as he passed the bowl of Parmesan to her. ‘Well, we’ll just have to see, won’t we?’

For a moment the food was forgotten as they smiled at each other, holding hands across the table. Jen didn’t think it was possible to be happier.

She’d told Julia all about it when they’d met for coffee. Julia, newly engaged and unbearably smug, didn’t respond how Jen hoped.

She nodded politely and smiled in a lips-closed, not very enthusiastic kind of way, as Jen described what a wonderful dad David was, what a great cook, how romantic, how grown-up and committed. She sipped her latte and listened, the muted smile still on her lips, as Jen talked about how cute Martha was, the funny things she’d said, how tiny her shoes were.

Jen sensed her sister’s disapproval, but she ploughed on. Because, of everyone she knew, surely Julia would understand. She’d found happiness herself – true, it was with the most boring man on earth, but apparently Julia loved him. She alone knew what it had been like when their parents had split up – how the very foundations of their world had been rocked, how everything they’d believed in had been torn down. Julia knew how hard it was to come through that, to put yourself out there, to believe in a happy ending.

Now they’d both done it. Surely Julia would be happy for her.

So Jen, still warm with the memory, told her how Martha had asked if she was her mummy. But, in response to Jen’s beaming, Julia’s pretty eyebrows creased into a frown. She placed her cup in the saucer with a clink and sighed.

‘Jen, just – I’m worried about you.’

Jen felt her joy shrivel. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m just – you’re rushing into all this. I mean, he’s so old, and you’re going on like it’s some kind of ready-made family situation.’

Jen flushed. The cappuccino she was drinking soured in her mouth. ‘So what? I like that he’s older, he’s mature and kind and – and reliable. And I love Martha. And she loves me.’

‘That’s what I’m worried about.’ Julia’s voice had softened. ‘What happens if it all goes wrong? You’ve thrown yourself into this and you hardly know the man – what if it doesn’t work out? It’s not just him you’re going to lose, it’s Martha too. And even worse, she’ll lose another mum.’