‘Morning, Deano. All right, sis. How was Manchester?’

Lou leapt from the chair and threw her arms around his neck.

‘Bloody hell,’ Stephen laughed awkwardly. ‘What’s got into you?’

‘Nothing … I’m just pleased to see you.’

‘Have I missed something?’

Stephen was right to sound confused. In this world, there must never have been an argument, since the cause of their fight was sitting there, at the kitchen table. She hadn’t stormed out but had been to visit Katie. There had been no funeral to pay for and no arrest. In this world, it looked like Stephen and Rebecca were still engaged. There had been no stolen plaques from the war memorial. The train hurtled towards her again, and Lou buried her face in Stephen’s jumper.

Smothered in her big brother’s arms, she heard voices whisper about fevers and flu, walk-in clinics and calling out the doctor. Stephen squeezed her tight. ‘You’ll be ok, won’t you, sis? We’ll look after you.’ He helped her sit down, and she kept hold of his hand. He didn’t seem to mind.

‘So,’ he said, ‘what do you want first? The good news or the bad news?’

‘Oh, let’s have the good news,’ Mum said, one eye still on Lou. ‘We don’t want to hear anything bad on Christmas Day.’

‘Well, the good news is …’ He paused for effect. ‘I won twenty quid on the lottery last night!’

Dean groaned. ‘Is that it?’

‘Not quite.’ Stephen gently freed his hand from Lou’s grasp and stood behind Rebecca. He slipped his arms around her waist and patted her stomach. ‘The bad news is, it looks like I won’t be able to spend it down The Arms. We’re saving for a cot.’

‘You’re not!’ Mum shrieked.

Rebecca grinned shyly and tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘I’m twelve weeks gone.’

Stephen laughed. ‘How’s that for a Christmas present? Better than a box of Ferrero Rocher, Grandma.’

Mum rushed to Rebecca and Stephen, showering them with kisses. ‘Oh, you clever pair!’ she gushed, asking about due dates and scans and making a fuss of Rebecca’s stomach. ‘Have you told your dad yet?’

‘We’re going to surprise him tomorrow. Hey, and don’t you be late, Lou. I’ll pick you and Deano up at ten o’clock sharp.’

‘What? Why?’ Lou asked

‘What’s wrong with her?’ Dean said. ‘We’re going to Dad’s for Boxing Day, Loopy Lou.’ He spoke slowly as though speaking to a deaf person. ‘We always go to Dad’s on Boxing Day.’ He circled the air beside his ear. ‘Has she had a bump on the head, or what?’

‘Leave your sister alone. She’s just tired,’ Mum said. She glanced at her watch. ‘Come on, you lot, we’d best get a move on, if we don’t want to be late. Dean, get your coat.’

Lou watched the scene unfold around her; her brothers laughing and joking, neither of them in the least surprised at Mum’s suggestion they leave the house rather than spend the morning slouched in front of the telly, dipping their hands into a tub of chocolates, waiting for the call from the kitchen that lunch was ready. Mum slipped her apron over her head and hung it behind the door while Dean demonstrated how Rudolph’s nose lit up when he pressed a button tucked up inside his jumper. Mum laughed and shooed Stephen and Dean out into the hall. They made a great play of shoving each other, laughing as they both tried to get through at the same time, Mum warning them to watch out for Rebecca.