Weren’t ancient feelings supposed to die eventually? Hers only ever seemed to hibernate. Every time she swore she’d kicked them, Will woke them right back up.

“You are a lady, Abbie,” he said quietly, and then he ran his hand down her arm, all the way to her closed fist. Inhaling sharply, she looked up at his face. His blond lashes were lowered, hiding his gaze. The set of his mouth, soft against the scruff of his beard, told her absolutely nothing. His warm fingers eased open her cold, clumsy ones, and he took her car keys. Then he finally met her eyes, his own like beguiling mirrors in the dark. “You’re cold. Go on inside.”

As a child, Abbie had believed her grandmother knew almost everything, and her mother knew the rest. As an adult, she realised that couldn’t possibly be true. Because if Grandma had really known the unholy thoughts chasing themselves around in Abbie’s mind right now, she would’ve whacked her youngest grandchild with a saucepan.

Instead, when Abbie entered the cluttered, spice-scented kitchen, Grandma turned from the Aga with open arms. Well, kind of open; there was a cat attached to her person, but that was to be expected. “Abigail! Come here, girl.”

Abbie went. She’d taken off her boots at the door, but she still towered over Grandma, those silver-white curls pressing against her chest as they hugged. Once upon a time, it had been the other way around. But Grandma still smelled the same, like lily of the valley and cat biscuits and home, and Abbie’s heart still settled around her.

“You good, darling?” Grandma asked quietly.

“I’m good,” Abbie answered, her voice equally soft. When she was a kid, they’d have this same conversation, conducted in whispers, so no one would hear if the answer happened to be No. Abbie had always found weakness rather uncomfortable. Grandma was the same.

“And how are you?” Abbie asked, letting the Up here all alone at your age part go unsaid. There was still time for Grandma to whack her with that saucepan.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. This is Gravy, look—I showed her to you on the Face Screen.”

“Yes, Grandma, I remember. Hi, Gravy. Hi.” Abbie reached out to stroke the little ginger thing and got a vicious hiss for her trouble. “Hm.” Turning away, Abbie went to Haddock’s bed in the corner and knelt to say hello. She’d always been more of a dog person. At the sight of her, his tongue lolled out in a grin and he rolled over, belly-up.