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“And you’d have been very welcome. Millie likes being here, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, she loves seeing him every day, and so do I.” I hesitate. “I’ll have to look for somewhere else in the New Year, though.”
The thought is scary. I’ve never lived on my own, and I have Millie to worry about, too. Adapting to being single has been a steep learning curve. But I’ve survived, haven’t I?
“It’ll be great for you to be here this first Christmas without your mum,” Emma says. “Your dad must miss her terribly.”
“Oh yeah. And he’s good company for Millie and me, too.”
“Who’s good company?” Dad comes into the living room carrying the tray of wine glasses and two wine bottles, Millie hot on his heels like a little shadow.
“Jason Momoa.” I stick my tongue out at him.
Emma chuckles. “Hello, Mr. Winter.”
He rolls his eyes. “Call me Rudolph, please.”
She looks horrified. “Oh, I couldn’t!” Dad has taught practically everyone on the island under the age of thirty, and they all still call him Mr. Winter.
“Makes me feel a hundred years old,” he grumbles, putting the tray on the table.
“Maybe if you didn’t have white hair…” I wink at him.
He runs his hand through it ruefully. “I think I need to get the dye bottle out.”
“Oh, please don’t,” Emma begs. “It makes you look distinguished.”
He gives her a wry look. “I think you should stop while you’re ahead. Now,” and he looks at Millie, “are you going to stay and make sure the ladies don’t get drunk and fall over?”
“No,” I say as she giggles, “she’s going to bed, aren’t you?”
“Aw, Mummy…” Her big brown eyes beg me to let her stay.
I can’t help but soften. She loves being with the girls. “How about you wait until everyone arrives, and then Grandad can take you up and read you a story?”
“Sounds like a plan,” he says as she jumps up and down. “Shall I put a background on the TV for you?”
“Yes, please.”
He turns it on and starts flicking through YouTube.
“Oh! I left the cream in the fridge!” Emma runs out to the kitchen.
I chuckle. “That woman is incapable of walking anywhere.”
“Helloooo?” A voice echoes from the back door.
“In here,” I call, and Cate Hartley appears in the doorway, carrying an old enamel jug full of sweet peas, cornflowers, and love-in-a-mist, with a few sprigs of rosemary tucked in. They immediately fill the room with a wonderful scent.
“My contribution for the evening,” she says, placing the pot on the table by the window. “I thought you’d rather I brought these than bake a cake.”
“Not at all, you’re a wonderful cook.” I meet Millie’s gaze and pull a face, and she giggles again.
“Are you mocking me, Miss Millie?” Cate sits beside her and tickles her. “I like to think my ability to burn everything is endearing.”
I grin. “I’m sure the extra carbon is good for the teeth.”
“Oh, hello!” Emma comes back in with the clotted cream. “Everyone’s turning up at once.”
