Deep down she knows why: she simply can’t produce stuff quick enough. If she had two good hands, it might be a different story. She did this a lot, thought about the what-ifs. A guaranteed way to distract herself. She’d had a talent for renovating items, even at a young age. She lost her fingers a few months after starting school and her mother talked about how her teachers marvelled at how skilled Amber was before her accident; she’d had a knack of turning cardboard boxes and plastic bottles into something pretty, even at just four. She’d overheard Viv once saying to a friend: ‘Amber could’ve done great things if she’d not lost those fingers of hers.’

Amber looks down at the stumps on her hand in frustration. One stupid moment going out in the snow when she wasn’t supposed to, and the course of her life had been altered.

Well, there’s nothing she can do about it now, is there?

Maybe she needs to think about reducing her opening hours, finding a job in town? She takes in a sharp breath. Does she really want to do that? Her mortgage is small, the apartment she lives in tiny. She has minimal outgoings. It isn’t necessary. And anyway, what the hell can she do with her useless hand? It takes her what feels like treble the amount of time to do everyday things – including painting.

‘Argh!’ she shouts in frustration. She throws her paintbrush down, red paint splattering on the pebbles. She makes herself a hot chocolate with the small kettle she has in the hut and walks out onto the sand, blowing on her drink to cool it down. As she does that, she tries to blow her worries away too.

She looks towards the hospital again and imagines her little Katy there, alone, scared, confused. Amber and Jasper had been with her to the end, holding her hands and whispering in her ear, trying not to look at all the wires coming out of her tiny body. Amber had that, at least. The knowledge her daughter hadn’t had to endure it alone.

But this poor girl, in hospital with no idea of who she was and where she came from.

‘For God’s sake. Now I’m going to have to go to her, aren’t I?’ She quickly places her paints inside before closing the hut and rushing towards town.

Chapter Three

As Amber strides up the road and into town, the skies are gloomy, so gloomy the shop owners have turned on their Christmas lights. They sparkle red, blue and green in the shop windows, Christmas music tinkling out. People pass, many smiling in greeting at Amber.

Soon the town square will be filled with festive market stalls. Some of them will be selling produce Amber had sourced, handed over in exchange for promises to send customers down to the beach.