“Like Daddy.”

“Like Daddy.” Christy checked the time. Seb had messaged her to say he’d be late home. It was the third time that week. Four times the week before.

When Christy had pictured their life in the country, she’d assumed Seb would continue to work remotely, but changes in his office meant he was no longer able to work from home. He was more stressed than usual, and Christy couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Did he hate the cottage? Hate living in the country?

Lately she’d been waking up in the night wondering if this whole thing had been a mistake. Living here didn’t feel the way she’d thought it would feel.

It wasn’t just the cottage or the money. She was lonely, although that wasn’t something she’d admitted to anyone. After trying so hard to persuade Seb to move here, how could she admit that she missed busy London streets and coffee shops? She missed bustle and noise and the undemanding company of strangers. She missed living in a warm apartment.

The cottage had lived up to the dream at the beginning, but then they’d experienced their first winter. After a heavy rainstorm it became clear that the roof needed replacing. The boiler had stuttered to a halt, and there was damp in one corner of the kitchen. They had spent the festive season shivering and trying hard to be upbeat for Holly’s sake. It had been an exhausting experience, which was another reason Christy had booked Lapland. She didn’t want another Christmas like the last one.

She sighed and finished straightening the kitchen.

She’d made a choice, and now she had to live with it.

Where was Seb? How was she supposed to produce a delicious meal when she had no idea what time he was arriving home? It was a planning nightmare.

Oblivious to her mother’s anxiety, Holly rubbed her face, spreading paint. “Santa has help from the elves.”

“He does.” She needed help from the elves, preferably ones with building experience who could fix a leaking roof.

She moved her laptop from the kitchen so that she could lay the table for dinner.

As a freelance graphic designer she could work from anywhere, and she’d spent the morning working on a project for a client, keeping half an eye on her daughter and half on her work. As a result the house reflected the joyous mess of a free-range child. She felt the pressure squeeze. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head, even though she’d been gone for more than two years. One toy at a time. You need to be stricter with her, Christy. Teach her to respect rules. She’s a wild one.

Christy felt a rush of protectiveness. Her daughter was bold, inquisitive and adventurous, and she didn’t want to crush that. She admired, and occasionally envied, her daughter. Had she ever been that fearless?

But she knew that what had really worried her mother was Holly’s resemblance to Robyn.