But the idea of careering straight off to Grady’s without time to calm down and gather her wits made Laurel’s heart jolt. ‘Just give me a few minutes to sort out a few things I want from the studio. I forgot to do it yesterday evening.’

‘OK. I’ll grab some cereal.’ Daisy bounced blithely back towards the kitchen, hair flying, while Laurel grabbed her coat and hurried outdoors. Today, the garden was cloaked in a freezing mist that outlined cobwebs on winter’s skeletal shrubs and muffled the sound of her feet on the stepping-stone path. Expecting the Ice Queen to appear at any moment, Laurel fumbled her way through the door and heard it click shut behind her. She sank onto a stool to catch her breath. Sanctuary. Here she was unlikely to be overheard and able to see if anyone approached.

She’d lied to Daisy. The brushes and water pots she intended to take to the painting of the Christmas scene were assembled, but if she didn’t grab a chance to collect herself she’d be weird with Grady.

That wouldn’t have been too big a problem if they’d been spending the time alone, but Grady had volunteers from Craft Stuff coming and Laurel was to help them contribute ice skaters, skiers, cute chalets and, Daisy’s pet project, the jaunty red cable car. Tess would also be along to create her Santa and sleigh.

Laurel’s mind flew automatically to Fliss, whose calm good sense and insight had buoyed her so many times in past years. She reached for her phone.

‘Hey, you,’ came Fliss’s warm tones a few seconds later, her Californian accent mellow. ‘How’re you doin’?’

Laurel felt a rush of affection for the friend she’d had to leave behind in London. ‘Mixed,’ she said, frankly. ‘At least, I hit a good patch but something’s just happened to shake me up.’

Fliss didn’t miss a beat. ‘I’m listening if you want to talk.’

That was exactly what Laurel did want. ‘Mac Cassidy wrote me an apology and dropped it through our door. And, believe it or not, I had it in my hand when his bloody wife arrived to pick something up from Daisy. She spotted his handwriting.’ She rushed on with the rest of the story, one eye on the window in case Daisy ran across the garden in search of her.

When she’d finished, Fliss gave a little hum as she considered. ‘So Mac really, really wants to apologise, huh?’

Laurel was taken aback. ‘I suppose so,’ she agreed slowly. ‘I believe that’s just so he can feel better about himself though. I’ve made it obvious I don’t want to hear his apology.’

‘And you have every right to feel that way, and to have your wishes respected,’ Fliss agreed. Then, after a moment, ‘So, what’s the situation with Grady?’