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‘I have, thank you.’

‘Say about eleven?’

‘Absolutely,’ I promise and ring off.

She sounds absolutely lovely. What on earth was I afraid of?

I go into the bedroom expecting to find Maisie, but she’s not there. My phone beeps with a message from her:

Just met a lovely bloke! See you tonight – or not, tee-hee! M xxx

If this were London, I’d be worried. But I think it’s safe to say that in a village of a hundred souls, there’s no danger. Should I call her? I don’t want to bother her. Especially if she really has met a nice bloke.

*

On Sunday morning, I’m up, refreshed, showered and starving. I put on a grey wool dress and my favourite black boots. There – not too modern and not too flashy. I check there’s no lip gloss on my teeth and make my way through Starry Cove, once again admiring the prettiness of it all.

The shop signs seem to smile out at me, beckoning me in, even to the ones that I might not need, such as The Cackling Fish, an angler’s shop. All around me, like in a Christmas film, an abundance of fairy lights continue to point the way to the village church, behind which lies Rectory Lane. As I follow the plumes of my breath vaporising in the crisp air, I wonder if it’s going to snow here this Christmas. Now that would make it even more picture-perfect. I imagine a thick layer of snow covering the lamps, the railings and the trees, almost expecting to see Mr. Tumnus from the Narnia books appear from across the way.

And soon enough, here I am again at my grandmother’s gates, only this time I’m not surprised by the size of the house. But I’m still terrified. I know she sounds lovely and all, but what if she doesn’t like me? What if I’m a disappointment to her, like my mother was? Or like I am to the MIL? But she’s expecting me. What choice have I got? I don’t want to be remiss and start off on the wrong foot. Not when there’s so much at stake. A family! If I ever want the chance of having one, I have to ring the doorbell, right? So that’s exactly what I do.

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