With a quelling look at Daisy, who was grinning all over her round, teenaged face, Laurel started the engine and resumed their interrupted journey to Middledip, wondering if even Fliss could counsel her to look forward when such an uncomfortable part of her past was currently sitting in her car.

The first couple of miles passed in silence apart from the hiss of tyres on wet asphalt and the swish of the windscreen wipers dislodging the snow. Then Grady, as if belatedly recovering his manners said, ‘How are you doing, Daisy?’

Daisy turned in her seat and beamed. ‘Good. Are you going to run the village art show thing?’

‘Seems like it. Hope you’ll get involved.’ Grady’s voice was light and warm.

Daisy nodded. ‘Cool, I will if Mum’s OK with it.’ Then she added brightly, turning her gaze Laurel’s way just as Laurel pushed back her hood. ‘Maybe you’ll join in now you’re here, Auntie Laurel.’

‘Laurel?’ Both the Cassidys spoke at once, Grady sounding astounded and Mac taken aback.

‘Hi,’ she said laconically. Her right foot got heavier on the accelerator and she shot into the village. She forced herself to touch the brakes and take a breath. ‘Can you tell me where you need dropping? Our frozen shopping will be thawing.’

Grady said, ‘We’ll go to Mac’s, please. It’s 148 Port Road.’

Good. At least that wasn’t too near Great End, where Laurel’s family home, The Nookery, stood. She turned sharp right out of Main Road into Ladies Lane. ‘Number 148? Do I turn right at the end? Or left?’

‘Right, please,’ Grady said, when Mac made no reply. Then, cautiously, Grady added, ‘Nice to see you, Laurel. Sorry for not recognising you—’

‘It’s dark and I’m nearly twenty years older,’ she cut in swiftly. ‘It must be about here, right?’

‘Just under this lamp,’ Grady agreed quietly. ‘Thanks again. I think Mac would have got hypothermia if you hadn’t helped.’

Laurel answered more genially. ‘Someone else would have stopped, I expect.’ She halted the car, watching the snow make tiny starbursts on the windshield as the men fumbled with their seat belts.

Daisy and Grady said their goodbyes. Mac, who’d been completely silent since Laurel’s identity had been revealed, gave a hoarse, ‘Thank you very much,’ before he hurried from the car and the brothers left their footprints in the veil of snow up the garden path, Santa trousers brushing Mac’s calves. Laurel hoped his silence had come from consternation at her turning up again rather than mere embarrassment. He deserved every anxious moment.

Daisy laughed. ‘Poor Mr Cassidy in his boxers, stuck at the side of the road.’ She whipped out her phone while Laurel turned the car around.