‘Shall I take half?’ Relief settled on Laurel’s shoulders like a cloak to see Daisy smile again, and not because Laurel had taken some of the willow. It was troubling how the teen had changed in a click of the fingers from relaxed and insouciant to looking ready to cry. Laurel mulled that over as they passed the row of parked cars along Rotten Row, turned the corner and stepped into the bright, bustling warmth of the café.

‘Let’s dump our stuff before we order.’ Daisy lead the way across the main café and into the next room, The Public. There, the same colourful mixture of tiles graced the floor but the tables had been pushed together to form a rectangle, and chairs set around it.

‘Hiya,’ Daisy called to the three women and two men clustered at one end. ‘We’ll need five chairs, so is it OK if we grab these?’ She indicated five chairs together.

‘Yes, you go on, duck,’ said one of the men comfortably, one of his hands occupied by a steaming mugful of something and the other with cake.

After securing the chairs with coats and willow whips, Daisy and Laurel returned to the counter of the café, where Carola was simultaneously toasting panini, frothing coffee and instructing two teenage girls on the best way to drape fairy lights on a Christmas tree.

‘Yeah, OK, Mum,’ expostulated the eldest. ‘Sheesh, to think I came home from uni this weekend for this. Emily, can you leave the baubles and help me untwist these lights?’

Emily, who appeared a couple of years younger, continued to rummage in a cardboard box. ‘You’re doing the lights, Charlotte. I’m checking the baubles.’

‘Hey, Emily,’ Daisy called to the bauble-sorter.

Emily waved. ‘Hey, Daisy!’ When Daisy had ordered a panini, Coke and a brownie, she crossed to inspect the contents of Emily’s bauble box while Laurel chose her lunch.

Carola, tendrils of blonde hair sticking to her cheeks in the steamy atmosphere, gave Laurel a friendly smile and nodded in the direction of Charlotte and Emily. ‘It’s not ideal to get the decorations up on a busy Saturday but my daughters only have weekends. We’re offering Christmas coffees now it’s only five weeks to go. Fancy cinnamon sprinkles or a cranberry shot?’

Laurel said, ‘Mm, a cranberry shot, please.’ She also ordered a panini and a shortbread angel, unable to resist the liberal chocolate coating on its wings.

The espresso machine hissed self-importantly as Carola clattered mugs and plates. Laurel watched Daisy, who’d crouched next to Emily to inspect the shiny decorations. Even Charlotte, who looked several years older than Daisy, passed a friendly word with her. Whatever was bothering Daisy seemed to originate at school. At least … At least, it didn’t seem to come from the village. Laurel flipped that point over in her brain.