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arms. What was that supposed to mean? Mim tried to lift her and set her back on her feet, but Maisie wriggled until she had wrapped her arms and legs round Mim and was clinging on like a monkey.

Mim lifted her higher on to her hip, and Maisie rested her head on her shoulder. She was heavier than Mim had expected, softer too, and she smelt of something sweet and fruity. Mim cuddled her closer, savouring the unfamiliar sensation.

‘Uncle Corin!’

Mim hadn’t realised they’d run so far; at its end, the Vennhallow garden backed onto the lawn that surrounded Corin’s gatehouse. Corin was walking round the house from his car to the front door, looking unusually smart in a formal shirt and trousers, and with a jacket and tie dangling over his arm. Jeremy ran through a gap in the hedge and straight at Corin, who picked him up and tucked him under his arm.

‘I’ve caught a monster in the garden,’ Corin said, tickling Jeremy who squealed with delight. Maisie noticed what was going on and slid down Mim so she could toddle after her brother. Corin soon had a giggling child under each arm, while his jacket lay in a heap on the floor. Mim followed the children into the garden.

‘Have you been landed with looking after these two terrors?’ Corin asked. ‘What did you do to deserve that?’

‘I don’t know. It must have been really bad, mustn’t it?’

Corin lowered the children to the ground. Jeremy tugged his hand.

‘Mim isn’t bad,’ he said, with the earnestness of his full three and a half years. ‘She’s fun. But she has a strange voice.’

‘It’s called an accent,’ Corin explained. He caught Mim’s eye and smiled. ‘It’s because she comes from a land far away in the north.’

‘The North Pole?’ Jeremy asked.

‘Not quite as far as that,’ Corin said, stifling a laugh. Jeremy still regarded Mim wide-eyed, but then another thought distracted him. He tugged Corin’s hand again.

‘Can we have some hot chocolate?’ he asked. ‘Please?’

‘Go on then, as you asked so politely.’

Corin unlocked the door and pushed it open. The children rushed in and Mim could hear them squealing over Dickens.

‘Poor Dickens,’ Corin said. ‘He won’t thank me for this invitation.’

‘Doesn’t he like children?’

‘I think he agrees with me, that our family is far too large and best tolerated infrequently and in small doses. You can’t go anywhere without running into a cousin or an aunt or a godparent. It’s like being surrounded by all Rabbit’s friends and relations.’

‘You have a rabbit?’ Mim was confused. He didn’t look like a rabbit man. Did he have a rabbit fleece like Janet? Perhaps that explained why he was such a favourite with her.

‘It’s a Winnie the Pooh reference,’ Corin explained. ‘Don’t you remember? It was always my favourite bedtime story.’

‘I didn’t have bedtime stories.’ It was a fact, not a plea for sympathy, but Mim caught the flash of compassion on Corin’s face. ‘Stop feeling sorry for me,’ she said. ‘It’s very annoying. The past is gone. I’m alive and I’m healthy. Everything’s fine, okay?’

She brushed past him into the house and found the children sitting next to Dickens’s basket, stroking the dog, while Dickens curled up with a resigned expression on his face. Corin followed her in.

‘Give me five minutes to change and then I’ll make a drink.’

He wasn’t gone that long, and Mim was glad when he came back wearing his usual jeans and scruffy jumper. He’d seemed different in his suit, less approachable and more like the businessmen who used to stay in the hotel, the ones who either paid her too much attention or failed to notice she existed.

‘Let Dickens have some peace,’ Corin said, and he lifted up the children one by one and deposited them on the sofa beside Mim. He threw the blanket over them. ‘Here, use this until the fire gets going.’

He lit the fire, switched on the lamps, and made hot chocolate, while Mim snuggled on the sofa with two children who seemed suddenly exhausted by the effort of running round the garden earlier. When Jeremy asked to watch television, Corin said he had a better idea. He plucked a book from the bookcase and started to read a story about a bear of little brain called Winnie the Pooh… Maisie fell asleep, leaning against Mim’s shoulder, and Mim couldn’t blame her. With the flickering fire and the cosy glow from the lamps, the warmth of the blanket, and the soothing rhythm of Corin’s voice, she was beginning to doze herself. Peace crept beneath her skin and filled her bones. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so content in her life.

A knock on the door disturbed the idyll and a moment later Ros entered the room. She looked around and smiled.

‘This looks a picture of perfect domestic happiness,’ she said. ‘Thanks for stepping in, Mim. I see you have everything under control. It seems a shame to disturb you all.’

‘It’s been fun,’ Mim replied. Then, because she didn’t want either Ros or Corin to think she was making herself too comfortable, she added, ‘I don’t mean this bit. We had fun before this. We did some painting and chased each other round the garden.’

‘Thanks for clarifying which part was fun,’ Corin said with a smile. ‘I’m sorry Winnie the Pooh wasn’t entertaining enough. I’ll choose something more exciting next time.’

Next time? That wasn’t likely to happen. Mim was about to point that out when Corin sprang up from his chair and joined his sister.

‘How did it go?’ he asked in a low voice.

‘Everything’s good. Number three will be joining us in late July. I couldn’t be happier.’ Her words were backed up by an enormous smile. She was an extraordinarily beautiful woman and now her evident joy made her even more so.

‘I’m delighted for you.’ Corin dropped a kiss on Ros’s forehead and pulled her into a hug. Mim marvelled at how similar they were, with their elegant frames entwined, dark heads bent together, matching smiles

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