“I don’t have better things to do, Mum,” she said after a moment. “Of course I don’t. Why don’t you come to the flat? Or we could go to Alice and Henry’s... You remember my friends?” Tina gave a little shake of her head, and Olivia couldn’t tell if she didn’t remember or didn’t want to go. “They’ve invited us to Willoughby Manor for Christmas dinner.” Although she’d already turned down Alice’s invitation, Olivia knew it would always be open. “It’s lovely...a big manor in the countryside, roaring fires...”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Tina rose from the table, the teacups rattling in their saucers as she whisked them to the sink. “I’ll think about it, I suppose.”

“Do. Even if we don’t go there, we could still spend the day together.”

“Yes, well, we’ll see.” Tina’s tone was repressive, and so Olivia dropped the subject, still feeling uneasy.

Soon after that she couldn’t think of any reason to stay longer, and as her mum seemed restless, almost wanting her to go, she decided to take her leave even though she’d only been there a little over an hour.

“I suppose I should get going,” she said as she reached for her coat. “I still have my weekly shop to do.” Tina stood by the sink, her arms folded, her smile a little distant. “You are...you are happy here, Mum?” Olivia couldn’t keep from asking, needing the reassurance. “Aren’t you?”

Tina looked surprised, and then, to Olivia’s dismay, her gaze slid away from hers. “Yes,” she said. “Of course I am. Don’t worry about me, Olivia.”

But of course she did worry, unable to keep from going over their conversation as she stocked up at Waitrose, adding some Christmas decorations—a porcelain angel, another set of fairy lights—to top up her supply. She bought her baking supplies in bulk from a wholesaler and had them delivered, but she enjoyed browsing the baking aisle and getting a few extras—edible gold stars, a tube of silver icing.

Back in Wychwood-on-Lea, Olivia tried to banish her worries and hurt by finishing the decoration of the shop. So far she had strung fairy lights all around, and lined the display cases and stands with red velvet ribbon. A sprig of mistletoe adorned the front door, whose brass handle now sported a cluster of jingle bells. She’d cut fresh holly and placed it in the corners of the display case, and now she added the newly purchased angel to the display case, and strung some more lights outside, to make the shop a bit more welcoming as dusk began earlier and earlier.

As the sun started to sink, the high street lost in shadow, she decided to start on a batch of mince pies for the Christmas light turn-on on Wednesday. It was time for Christmas baking, cupcakes included, to begin in earnest.

Baking always helped to banish worry; the methodical mixing, rolling out of dough, cutting the shapes helped to give her a focus and soothe her spirit. It reminded her of her childhood, standing next to her mum on top of a little stool, tiny hands patting out the dough or stirring the batter as her mother lovingly instructed her.