‘Nay, he won’t, not with Mistress Isabelle, but you can dream.’ Ruby pushed her chair back. ‘Here, Nancy, I’m plucking, you are cleaning. Wash these dishes up, while I finish plucking your bird. I know just how much you can’t wait to get your hands into that bird, and I wouldn’t deprive you of the pleasure.’

Nancy got hold of the half-plucked turkey and watched Ruby nearly swear as she did so. Bloody birds, she thought, they were nowt but work, and these are just the first of many to be eaten over Christmas.

It was the Sunday before Christmas, and Rosie sat with her mother next to the kitchen window, looking out on the frosted landscape while having a quiet family moment. Georgina was lying asleep on her mother’s knee and Ben was laid out in front of the open kitchen fire, reading his latest copy of The Boy’s Best, occasionally letting out a chuckle as he read about the character’s latest exploits.

Rosie concentrated on the darning that she had been given and felt content in the warmth of the kitchen. The smells of Christmas filled it, as the plum pudding steamed on the stove top and the scent of pine from the newly erected Christmas tree in the parlour drifted through the whole house.

‘It’s nice to have you back home all the time, Mother. We’ve managed, but in all honesty we have missed you when you have been at Skipton.’ Rosie looked up at her mother and smiled; it was a rare day when all was quiet at Crummock. The cattle were in for winter, the sheep were down from the fells and the two blazing fires were keeping the long farmhouse warm throughout.

‘Yes, I’m best at home in this weather. Come spring, I’ll give them a hand again. I think your Aunt Isabelle enjoys me participating a little in the business, and you all seem to cope without me for at least two days of the week. It’s good to be back in my kitchen, though, without wondering what exactly is going on at home. Speaking of which, will Ethan be joining us this afternoon, as usual on Sunday? We will have to stir them two sleepy heads, if you need the parlour to yourselves.’

‘No, Mother, it doesn’t matter today; he’s gone down to see his mother and father this afternoon and we’ve arranged to see one another later, after supper. I can tell him to join us for Christmas dinner, can’t I, Mother? I want him to share Christmas with us.’ Rosie blushed. She still found it hard to display her love for Ethan openly, knowing that her mother did not approve of her choice.