Emma finished reading Pru’s journal the week before Christmas. She then read it again when she had a day off, this time at one sitting. There was so much in it she loved, she didn’t want to miss anything. There were so many references to her, and to Pru’s parents, and her brothers, and everything she cared about and believed in. Reading it, Pru shone through the pages, and one knew exactly who she was.

A tiny part of Emma wanted to keep it, and never let them know it existed, but she couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair. It would be selfish of her. She knew that Pru would have wanted her parents to have it, and her older brother to see it. It belonged with them. She thought about mailing it to them, but that seemed so cold and impersonal. She had no one to be with on Christmas, she never did, like Audrey in the end. She had no family. Audrey had had one, but Emma hadn’t since she was fifteen, and it was only her drunken mother before that. She was used to spending holidays alone. She always spent them working, which gave someone else a chance to take a day off, someone who had better use for a holiday, and loved ones to spend it with, which Emma didn’t.

Lizzie was spending Christmas with Ed, and Louise had volunteered for general duty at the hospital. Alex had volunteered at the psych ward, so Emma wanted to do something special for Pru. She gift wrapped the journal in silver paper she bought, and decided to take a train to Yorkshire. It would probably take forever to get there with wartime disruptions, unreliable train schedules, and bombing raids. But she didn’t care how long it took. She had nowhere else to be. She had already visualized it. She would ring the front doorbell, ask to see Pru’s mother, Lady Pommery, whom she had heard so much about, and hand her the silver-wrapped journal as a Christmas gift from Pru.