‘What?’ she gasped, flinching at the sudden escalation in volume. ‘What are you shouting like that for?’

He shot her a very stern and thin-lipped look. ‘That doesn’t matter now,’ he gruffly said, his gaze momentarily flicking to me. ‘Ned said it’s not important.’

‘What’s not important?’ I asked.

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘She’s just got the wrong end of the stick about something, that’s all.’

‘She,’ said Chelsea. ‘Again!’

‘Come on,’ said Liam.

‘But I thought…’ Chelsea began, but he cut her off again.

‘Just come on,’ he said, striding away. ‘I thought you wanted to go.’

‘Boys,’ she said, throwing up her hands. ‘They’re still a mystery to me.’

‘Mmm,’ I said, watching Liam march off. ‘Me too.’

Chapter 23

With it being the last shopping day before the start of the school Christmas holidays, it was another busy day at Wynter’s Trees and the visit to the grotto from the Wynmouth mother and toddler group made it even more memorable. I could hear the squeals of delight – and the occasional tears – from my spot in Wren and Theo’s hut and when the group lined up in front of the truck to have their photographs taken, with Santa and Mrs Claus at either end, they did look very sweet, almost angelic.

‘Don’t they look adorable?’ sighed Abbie, taking in the group which ranged from tiny babies in their mum’s arms to around three and struggling to free themselves from their father’s hand.

Noah looked at me and rolled his eyes.

‘Tears before bedtime and at least one tantrum on the minibus home,’ he sourly said. ‘Possibly even some vomit, looking at how that one on the end is wolfing down those cookies.’

Abbie gave him a thump and, given her position in her wheelchair, very nearly made his eyes water.

‘I love babies,’ she dreamily said to me. ‘I want at least three.’

‘I guessed as much from the look on your face,’ I told her.

‘What about you?’ Noah asked me, his eyebrows raised. ‘How’s your baby timer, Liza? Is it ticking like an internal timebomb yet?’

‘Noah,’ scolded Abbie, looking outraged. ‘That’s a very personal question.’

Noah shrugged. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise it was such a touchy subject.’

‘You’re fine,’ I laughed. ‘It’s not. Not for me anyway. I haven’t heard my timer at all, but then I work with what those babies turn into. The decision whether or not to have kids is a huge one. I mean, you just said you love babies, Abbie, but they’re only those bundles for a few weeks and then you’re responsible for a little person.’