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With a nod of agreement, Lucie left the pub, her mind drifting back over years of phone calls with her dad. He’d always looked and sounded like the same steady and familiar dad. Maybe that was the problem; he’d always been living with loss. Did she even know who he was beyond that? Did he?

By the time she reached Frances’s front door — after a quick detour to the lebkuchen stall — she pulled her focus to the task at hand. Rose.

Thoughts filled her head about whether this was a good idea or not.

She knocked twice anyway.

“Ah, Lucie,” Frances said as she opened the door, her shoulders dropping in relief.

“Did you think I wouldn’t show?”

“Perhaps,” Frances admitted with a twitch of the lips.

“Well, I’m here. Are you going to invite me in?”

“Of course — sorry,” Frances said, stepping back.

“Thanks,” Lucie said, slipping through the narrow gap. Their bodies almost brushed as she did.

She swallowed and set her rucksack down.

“Here, let me take that,” Frances’s voice came from only inches away as Lucie slipped off her coat.

“Thanks.”

Their fingers brushed lightly, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

“Mum hasn’t stopped asking for you since I got home,” Frances said, hanging the coat up on the peg right beside Lucie.

She was so close that Lucie could feel the heat radiating from her body. As much as she longed to stay there, she didn’t trust herself not to do something stupid, like inhale Frances’s scent again.

“She remembered I was coming?” Lucie said, stepping aside and out of Frances’s periphery.

“Yes. Today is a good day so far.”

Lucie thought of her gran at this stage of Alzheimer’s, when no two days felt alike and even good ones could unravel without warning.

“And I...” Frances hesitated, a faint softness entering her voice. “I think you make her feel safe, having been there for her when...” Frances shrugged as she looked down briefly. “Maybe it helps her remember you more easily.”

Warmth spread through Lucie’s chest.

“Anyway, I’ve made her some sandwiches,” Frances continued. “They’re in the fridge. I’m happy to make lunch for you in future. It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s fine. I’ve brought my own, but thank you.”

“Please try to encourage her to eat it all. I worry she doesn’t eat enough.”

“I know the drill,” Lucie said, meeting her eyes briefly and offering a small, reassuring smile.

“Of course you do,” Frances said, her mouth tightening at the corners. Her gaze held a fraction too long. Lucie held it, her chest rising as she tried to contain a sudden rush of nerves.

“Is that — ” Rose’s voice called out and broke the silence.

“Yes, it’s Lucie, Mum,” Frances called, leading them through to the sitting room.

Lucie couldn’t help noticing Frances finishing the question for her mum, supplying the name she was clearly searching for. She’d done the same for Gran, cutting in before frustration could take hold. It had help lessen the power the disease held over her and made things feel as normal as possible.

“I’m heading out to a trustee meeting, Mum.”