Ruby thought she detected a hint of resentment flare in Miranda’s eyes but it was gone so quickly that she decided she must have imagined it when Miranda smiled and said cheerily, ‘Aw well, another year isn’t such a long time. It was just a thought.’

Soon after, Ruby excused herself and went back to the workroom where she was working on some designs for a new Christmas selection. The ones she had designed this year had already been made in the workshop in Birmingham and one in particular was selling very well – a small robin fashioned from gold with tiny rubies studded on its chest. Brooches had proved to be very popular in the lead-up to Christmas and so Ruby was creating new designs for the next festive season to give the workshops plenty of time to produce enough stock to satisfy demand.

Soon she was so engrossed in what she was doing that she was startled when a voice at her elbow suddenly said, ‘That’s nice. Is it a snowman?’

Ruby nodded. ‘Yes, this one is being aimed at the younger customers. It will be made in silver and have tiny semi-precious gems for eyes.’

Miranda stared down at the sketches and had to admit that Ruby did indeed have a flair for design, as her father never tired of telling her. Personally, she couldn’t think of anything more boring than having to sit doing sketches all day, but she supposed it was each to his own.

‘So, will you be staying at your father’s for Christmas?’ Ruby asked after a time, feeling that she at least ought to make some attempt at conversation.

Miranda shook her head. ‘No, I shall be going to my grandparents the day before Christmas Eve to spend it with them and my mother, if Lord Chumley doesn’t whisk her off somewhere, that is,’ she added glumly. ‘But what about you? What will you be doing and what would you like for Christmas?’

‘I shall be spending it here but . . . Well, what I’d like more than anything in the world you can’t buy,’ Ruby said sadly.

‘Oh!’ Miranda was all ears now. ‘And what would that be then?’

Ruby hesitated, wondering if she could trust Miranda.

‘Oh, do tell me,’ Miranda urged. ‘I know you have no reason to trust me, but I honestly have changed. And it might be something I could help you with.’

Ruby couldn’t deny that this seemed to be the case. And anyway, what harm could there be in sharing her dream? ‘When my mother died she told me that I had been adopted at birth,’ she explained. ‘And what I’d like more than anything in the world is to find my birth mother.’

‘I can understand that,’ Miranda said sympathetically. ‘It must be awful not knowing who she was. Perhaps I could help you trace her?’