‘Does Harry like snow?’

‘I’m sure he does, yes. He wanted to go sledging.’

Reminded of all the other kids playing together, I feel sad that Stanley’s on his own.

‘Didn’t you want to go sledging?’

Busy stroking Harry, Stanley says nothing, but just shakes his head.

‘Where’s his nose?’ I point to the snowman, who’s missing one.

‘We don’t have any carrots.’

‘Maybe you could use something else?’

Stanley frowns. ‘It has to be a carrot.’

I look at Harry, who’s carrying his tennis ball in his mouth. ‘Harry will give you his ball, if you want.’

Stanley studies it and I can tell he’s trying to decide what to do. At that moment his mum appears from the house.

‘Oh, hi.’ She looks surprised when she sees me and Harry.

‘He’s very friendly,’ I gesture to Harry, hoping to reassure her quickly. ‘Stanley was showing us his snowman. I wondered if he wanted a green tennis ball for his nose. Be a bit different.’

‘I suggested a parsnip, but it has to be a carrot.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘His dad’s gone to get some.’

‘Probably better,’ I nod, catching Stanley’s eye and smiling.

‘This is Harry,’ he says, proudly showing off his new friend to his mum. ‘If you tickle him here, he likes it. Harry gets scared too,’ he adds, and I notice how animated Stanley is around him.

‘Stanley is always asking for a dog, but it’s a lot of responsibility. Bit too much right now,’ his mother adds, lowering her voice.

She looks harassed, and I nod and say yes and glance at Stanley, who seems so different from the boy we met five minutes ago.

‘OK, well, you should come inside now – time for your lunch. Remember what it says on your list,’ she adds, as disappointment flashes across his face.

‘Bye, Harry.’

‘Bye, Stanley.’

And I smile and wave as he reluctantly follows his mum inside.

It’s only later, when we get home, that I realize we must have left Harry’s ball in Stanley’s garden, so the next day when I’m walking past, I stop to get it. Only there’s no sign of Stanley – just his snowman with his brand-new nose.

Only it’s not a carrot; it’s a bright-green tennis ball.

Heathcliff

The snow melts and disappears as quickly as it arrived, and a few days later I arrange to meet Maya at the Brontë Parsonage Museum in Haworth for our next tutoring session. As dogs aren’t allowed, I take Valentine up on his kind offer and drop Harry at his bungalow, then catch the local bus to the small village of Haworth.

It’s been years since my last visit. I came with Josie and my grandparents and, as I walk up the steep cobbled high street, memories flood back. Granddad giving me a piggyback because my legs were tired; Grandma telling us off for climbing on the moss-covered headstones in the graveyard; pressing my face against the glass case to squint at the miniature books made by the Brontë sisters as children.