Nora shook her head and pushed the card to one side. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘I know, and you weren’t.’ Emily put the figure down and squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘The first Christmas without her is bound to be hard,’ she said quietly. ‘I know how I felt when Jonathan moved away, but you’ll get through it.’

She meant it kindly, but Nora wasn’t in the mood for sympathy. ‘At least Jonathan might come back one day,’ she said.

‘He might, but I doubt it. He’s happy up in Plymouth, and he and Violet will be married soon. They’ll put down roots 66of their own, and that’s as it should be, but it doesn’t make it any easier for me.’ She sighed, tracing the image on the card with her fingers, as if it could compensate for his absence. ‘I hoped at one time that Jonathan and Jenna might end up together, but children have their own ideas, don’t they? Still, they were close. Do you remember that Christmas they hid in the church after the morning service and tried to ring the bells? Thank God it was Miss Hilaria who heard them and not His Lordship. She’s always been good to the children.’ Nora tried to block out Emily’s voice as her friend recalled one memory after another, playing out scenes from Jenna’s childhood like her very own Ghost of Christmas Past. ‘She always loved being in that church with you, right from when she was a toddler. Such bright eyes, she had – I’ll never forget how happy she looked. I suppose we should have seen it coming.’

Emily’s observations seemed to put into words the resentment that Nora felt more strongly every day. She had been so happy when Jenna began to share her joy in the beauty of the church and all it stood for, but now it was as if she had been the victim of a cruel joke, tricked like a fairytale mother into offering the most precious thing in her life to the wolf in sheep’s clothing. It broke her heart whenever she thought back to the day that she and Tom had been invited to visit the convent where Jenna would spend the rest of her life, that square, featureless building with its ordinary gardens and drab décor. The hardship of the order had shocked her, and she couldn’t bear the thought of her daughter in those poor, simple cells, with their bare walls and comfortless beds, where any tiny personal touches seemed tawdry and desperate. The woman who would sleep every night beneath 67that crucifix was a stranger to her – and she had been such a carefree, normal child.

Nora dragged her thoughts back to the present, suddenly aware that Emily had asked her a question. ‘Sorry, what were you saying?’

‘I just wondered if she’d be coming home again before she takes her vows?’

Nora shook her head. ‘No, and it’s probably for the best.’

‘You don’t mean that, surely?’