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She sighed. ‘That’s a whole different story.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Zenya put her arm on Rita’s.

‘Maybe later, Teo just messaged to say he’s on his chauffeur run to the yurts.’

Zenya busied herself heating milk for hot chocolates. ‘So how are we going to amuse these little ones?’

‘They will be ready for a nap in around an hour,’ Rita added, the sensible part of her thinking she should probably take them back to the farmhouse, before overtiredness transformed them into tiny festive dictators. Zenya was really quite capable of running the session. But the room felt warm and cosy. And the twins had spent most of the morning in front of Ms. Rachel, so she felt she owed it to them for some proper playtime now. She was also intrigued to see what the retreat guests would do with the suggestion she had in mind for them.

‘We can sort it,’ Zenya said gently. ‘If you’ve got a few toys in that buggy, we can barricade them in with a makeshift playpen at the back.’

A second later Gabriel appeared in the doorway wearing a wool hat entirely sideways, cheeks bright pink from cold and snow dusting his coat.

‘I forgot how much I love snowball fights,’ the Scot laughed loudly. Rita’s heart melted at the sound because he wanted more of exactly this. Laughter.

Behind him came Delia. ‘You,’ she informed him with terrifying calm, ‘are an absolute menace.’

Gabriel looked delighted with himself. ‘She started it,’ he announced.

‘I threw one snowball.’ Delia grinned as she shrugged off her coat. ‘Then it became war.’

Rita laughed. ‘Look at you living on the edge, Lady Monroe.’

Delia cast her a cheeky wink.

One by one the others drifted in, delighted at the warmth and the hot chocolates and goodies on offer to snack on before the crafting commenced.

Oksana peered into the buggy. ‘Oh, look at their little faces.’

Both twins stared back solemnly before Noa squealed suddenly and kicked her legs excitedly.

‘There you go, she clearly likes you.’ Rita smiled.

‘They are making me broody,’ the dancer replied; Gabriel, in earshot, raised one eyebrow.

‘I know it’s a question we are not supposed to ask these days but are kids on the agenda, for you?’ Rita enquired.

‘It’s one of those tricky ones for a dancer, you know. Our bodies are our livelihoods. And a lot of women dancers tend to leave it as late as they can, and if they’re lucky, they’ll have just one child.’

Nathan then started wriggling and complaining of his buggy shackles. Rita lifted him out. ‘Come on, little man. Let’s get you something to do shall we?’ She looked to Oksana. ‘It’s not easy but it is so worthwhile.’

Teo lifted Noa carefully and placed her into her new play area, where a thick knitted blanket had been spread out and a small pile of varying toys and distractions already gathered.

Inside the cosy little corner, the twins were perfectly content, Nathan focused intently on a set of big Lego bricks while Noa busied herself with a toy car, turning it over with serious concentration.

Once she knew the twins were fully occupied and everybody had had at least one coffee and some breakfast, Rita called everyone over to the crafting table.

‘This morning’s activity was going to be making plain old gingerbread houses, but I thought I’d give it a Seahaven Bay Retreat spin. So, I’d like you to make gingerbread versions of the life you hope you’re walking towards.’ There was a pause. ‘Honestly no pressure, it can be a house or an object, or whatever works for your future. And if you don’t want to do that, just make some lovely biscuits and decorate them. I just thought it might make you think about why you came here in the first place and where you see yourself, moving forward.’

Teo handed out aprons.

Evan slowly nodded. ‘I like it.’

Delia threw her arm in the air. ‘Oh, I’m going full edible fever dream, darlings.’

‘I’m more a savoury chef than a baker,’ Gabriel muttered, perhaps not realising he just had to stick the already made pieces together.

Tessa began attacking her gingerbread shapes with alarming confidence and precision.