The Christmas Angel by Marcia Willett Page B

remained silent. Adam had cornered her privately and suggested that it was time she and Pa downsized to a smaller house, and asked what Dossie’s plans were if and when they were to do so.
    ‘We’ve never discussed it,’ she answered frostily.
    ‘It’s as well to be prepared for every eventuality,’ he said coolly.
    He didn’t add, ‘at your ages’, but she knew that it was what he meant; that he is afraid that she or Pa might die with things left unresolved. Yet her heart rebels at leaving The Court or any part of their belongings to Natasha and her children.
    ‘What do you think of her?’ Pa asked, after that first visit just over a year ago when Adam and Natasha had come down from Oxford without the girls. ‘Good-looking woman but a bit brittle. Not much heart to her. I felt she was sizing us up. Not just us, but the house and so on. Know what I mean?’
    ‘Well, that’s her job, after all,’ Mo answered. ‘She’s an estate agent, like Adam. Country properties are their forte. It must be second nature.’
    Later, she learned from Dossie that Natasha has no plans for any more children; she said that two were quite enough, she was well past coping with the baby stage, and Adam wasn’t bothered. Mo isn’t particularly surprised. She’s long been resigned to Adam’s complete lack of interest in producing children and she guesses that his reluctance was a contributory factor to the downfall of his first marriage. So there will be no more grandchildren for her and Pa. She tries not to mind too much. After all, they are lucky to have Clem and darling Jakey not far away; and Dossie, of course, is a blessing.
    Mo breathes in the sweet, evocative scent of new-cut grass. How wonderful if Dossie has met a man who can love her and support her in her work and share her life. Suddenly hopeful, she turns to Pa.
    ‘Tea,’ she says. ‘We’ll have some tea in the garden and then take the dogs for a walk in the field. Come on, you can help me carry,’ and he slips an arm about her shoulders, and gives her a hug, and they go into the house together.
    Sister Emily, arriving at the caravan door, finds a tea party already in progress. Jakey and Stripey Bunny are sitting at the small folding table watching Janna putting cakes onto a plate. Jakey beams with delight at Sister Emily and slides across the bench seat to make room for her.
    ‘Come in,’ cries Janna, always happy to dispense hospitality. ‘We can manage another small one. We’re celebrating the last day of term, aren’t we, Jakey?’
    ‘I’m having the Peter Labbit mug,’ he explains. ‘Janna’s mummy gave it to her when she was small. I haven’t got a mummy but Daddy gives me things instead.’ He looks appreciatively at the small iced cakes. ‘We’ve given up chocolate for Lent. And Janna has given up biscuits as well. But these aren’t chocolate so we can eat them. What have you given up for Lent, Sister Emily?’
    ‘I’ve given up getting cross with Sister Ruth,’ she answers, squeezing in beside him. ‘I do so hope that it will become a habit that will continue long after Lent is over.’
    Jakey looks at her thoughtfully; he is considering it. ‘Haven’t you given up chocolate?’ he asks rather wistfully.
    Sister Emily shakes her head. ‘It’s much more difficult giving up getting cross. Chocolate wouldn’t have mattered much to me.’
    Janna splashes a tiny amount of tea into the milk in the Peter Rabbit mug and passes it to Jakey. He perches Stripey Rabbit on the table, leaning against the window, and seizes the mug.
    ‘I like tea,’ he says happily.
    ‘Where’s Daddy?’ asks Sister Emily. ‘Isn’t he invited to this tea party?’
    ‘He’s working. I’m going to stay with Pa and Mo after bleakfast because he’s too busy to look after me in the holidays now that I don’t go to nursery every day.’
    Sister Emily glances involuntarily at Janna, who makes a sad little face; shrugs. ‘All those guests arriving tomorrow,’