‘We’ve got lots of tins of beans and spaghetti hoops,’ I announced. ‘And I froze some bread yesterday.’

‘We’ve still got batches of my homemade soup,’ Daphne said, handing me a mug of hot chocolate.

You were already sitting at the kitchen table slurping yours noisily, your little legs swinging. Under your nightie I could see you’d pulled your bright yellow wellies onto the wrong feet. ‘Lolly, sweetheart, you need to get dressed before we can go outside.’

‘Daffy,’ you said, standing up.

‘You’re a big girl now, you can get dressed by yourself,’ I said, rolling my eyes at Daphne but she flashed you a beatific smile.

‘Of course I’ll help,’ she said, taking your hand. ‘Come on, Princess Lollipop, let’s find lots of warm clothes to put on.’

She always called you Princess Lollipop and you loved it. You loved her.

Daphne spent hours with you that day, building a snowman in the garden. I watched for a bit out of the window, laughing with you both every time the head fell off, which it did, often. ‘It’s harder than it looks,’ mouthed Daphne. The snow continued to fall onto your hats, lingering on your hair so that it looked like tiny white flowers were entwined in your plaits.

Bracing myself I reluctantly went outside too. I hated the cold but Daphne didn’t seem to feel it. And neither did you, even though your mittens were sopping wet and your nose and cheeks red. By now the snow was nearly up to the top of your wellies. Daphne didn’t own a pair so she was wearing her tatty platform boots, which didn’t look very waterproof.

‘We just need to find some currants and a carrot for the eyes and nose,’ she said to you once she’d finished, standing up, hands on hips, to admire her handiwork. You ran inside, finally emerging triumphantly with a small shrivelled carrot and two fat sultanas.

‘You both look frozen to the bones,’ I said. The snow had slowed now, only the occasional flake floating to the ground. ‘Come on, I’ll make beans on toast.’

Later, while you played with your teddies in your bedroom, Daphne and I sat with a cup of tea by the fire, her fingers still red raw from the cold. She stretched out her legs on the sofa, resting her feet in my lap.

I stiffened, embarrassed at her familiarity. Daphne, however, was totally unselfconscious.

‘Tuck your legs up here,’ she said, tapping my ankle. I hesitated, then swung my legs up so that my feet rested against her thigh. ‘See? That’s more comfortable, isn’t it?’

I smiled back. It was. It felt like the kind of thing you’d do with a sister, that’s all. Completely natural. I didn’t need to feel awkward about it. I relaxed into the position, smiling at her over my mug.