Later in the service the lights were dimmed and candles passed around as Simon performed a solo on the cello for “Silent Night,” everyone singing along softly. Olivia watched as a hundred different candle flames flickered throughout the church, and she closed her eyes to offer a silent prayer of gratitude.

The challenges, she discovered, came sooner than she might have wished. After enjoying yet more mulled wine—it seemed no one offered anything else for the entire month of December—and a shop-bought mince pie, they all walked back to the flat. Olivia served up the fish pie while Simon and Tina chatted, and then they played a few hands of bridge afterwards while sipping thimbleful-sized glasses of sherry.

And then her mum got confused. It happened so suddenly, Olivia didn’t feel prepared. Foolishly she expected some warning, a buzzer to go off, some signal. Instead they were chatting one minute and the next her mum was looking up from her hand of cards and blinking at them both in confusion.

“Mum...?” Olivia asked, not twigging what was going on. “How many do you want to bid?”

“Bid?” Her mother looked completely blank, sounding as if she’d never heard the word before. Then she turned to Simon. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Mum—” Olivia’s voice, sharp and loud, cut through the silence before she could stop herself.

But then Simon answered easily, “I’m Simon, Olivia’s friend. We’re playing bridge.”

“Bridge...?” Still her mother looked uncomprehending, and worse, fearful.

“Yes, you love bridge, Mum. You’ve been playing it for ages.” Even though she tried not to, Olivia couldn’t keep an odd, wheedling note from entering her voice. She felt panicky, which she knew wouldn’t help, but it was as if her mother had forgotten everything in the space of a few seconds—as if her brain had been wiped clean, like a slate.

“I’m sorry...” Tina put her cards down, shaking her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

Olivia tried to suppress the panic rising in her like a tide, blotting out rational thought. She knew arguing with her mum wouldn’t help, and neither would insisting on the facts as she knew them. The trouble was, she didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t done enough research yet, about how to handle moments like these. She hadn’t expected them to come so soon.

“It’s all right, Tina,” Simon said, his voice calm and reassuring. “It’s Christmas Eve, and you’re in the flat above the tea shop with your daughter, Olivia.” She blinked at him uncertainly while Olivia tried to swallow past the lump forming in her throat. “Would you like to go outside, get some air and clear your head? Or if you’re tired, perhaps you could go to bed? It is getting late.”

Tina shook her head slowly. “I don’t know...everything feels grey...like there’s nothing there.” Her hands knotted in her lap, her face creased with both concentration and fear.

“It’s okay, Mum,” Olivia said as steadily as she could. “It will come back. Maybe getting some rest is a good idea. It’s been a long day.”