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“Flights cost a lot.”

“I’d have sent you the money.”

“Well... It’s a busy time of year. There were lots of Christmas events and programmes.”

He nodded as if in surrender. Lucie found herself hating that her first impulse was to make excuses.

“I couldn’t just leave,” she added faintly.

That was the lie she told herself. In truth, she had kept herself busy on purpose. Christmas had been hard since her gran died. Gran had always made it special when Lucie was growing up, and when she was gone, the light in Christmas felt like it had been extinguished.

The first one following her death was the hardest. She’d come home from university and felt the absence in everything. Mandy was living in Croft Cottage by then, where they’d shared every Christmas with Gran after she moved out of the pub.

Lucie had hoped the following two years would be easier, but they weren’t. In the end, it was a relief to be in Africa and to have the excuse not to return. She’d convinced herself her dad didn’t mind. Now she wasn’t so sure.

“I did miss you... and Mands,” she said, trying to fill the growing silence.

It took him a moment to reply. “I know it’s probably strange, but I’ve missed our fortnightly call.”

Lucie exhaled softly. “Me too.”

“I had more of an idea what you were up to back then.” He nudged her shoulder. “But tonight was good. Thanks for taking us.”

“It was Mandy’s idea. To spend time as a — ”

“Family?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“Are you enjoying it up at the hall?”

“Yes. I am. Apart from the usual annoying colleagues.”

His mouth curved. “You get them everywhere. I’ve got enough of them, and I have to pay mine.”

Lucie hesitated. “I’m actually thinking of spending a bit more time up there... before my shift starts.”

“Why?”

“I’m sure you noticed that Rose has Alzheimer’s.”

He nodded. “I did.”

“I’m going to look after her for a few hours, to help Frances out. She’s really struggling.”

He turned to her. “Are you serious?” he said, his words biting. “Wasn’t nursing your gran hard enough? Why would you put yourself through all that again?”

Lucie recoiled. She had hoped he would understand Frances’s need for support, perhaps even be proud that she was offering it.

He looked down. “You left here to start fresh, and now you’re walking straight back into the same situation.”

“It’s only a few hours,” she repeated, “whilst I figure out what to do next. She’s not my family. She’s not my responsibility.”

He looked up and frowned. “You know what Alzheimer’s is like. It’s impossible not to get emotionally involved. If you’re that short of money, I could rework some things at the pub, find you some shifts.”

“This isn’t about money.” She paused. “I want to help Frances... and Rose.”

“I don’t understand why you’d do all that again,” he said, “for complete strangers.”