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‘We can put the siren on if you like,’ Wendy said.

Charlotte sniffed. ‘Thanks.’

A simple heart attack was the verdict. Grandma was old, and it had been quick, so the coroner said. She wouldn’t have felt a thing, and dying in her chair with her beloved dog nearby, it was a good way to sign off. Charlotte had to agree, but still felt a little pang of regret that she’d not had a chance to say a proper goodbye.

With nothing suspicious about Grandma’s death, it was relatively simple for Charlotte to make arrangements at the local crematorium for the following Monday. The only disappointment was that it was the 1st of December, and she would need to take another day off work. Having had to take the rest of the week to deal with many of the technicalities, she couldn’t shake a feeling of having let her class down. Mr. Wilson had almost gleefully offered to cover for her, so she had nervous fears of returning to find her posters all gone, the Christmas decorations strung across the windows now replaced by great black crêpe paper cobwebs.

And they were behind schedule, too. Not only would they have to make their Advent calendars after the start of Advent, but she had done something equally unforgivable.

In the confusion of Grandma’s sudden death, Charlotte had forgotten to write a letter to Father Christmas on Billy Toad’s behalf.

On Friday afternoon, with many of the basic arrangements completed, she agreed to meet her best friend Kelly for coffee in Sycamore Park. The trees were almost bare of leaves, the ground mulchy and damp, a cool wind whistling up the paths and the sky loaded with the threat of rain. Wearing wool-lined ankle boots, a fake fur hat, and a padded jacket over jeans, Charlotte felt snuggly warm as she watched Harry running across the wet grass, chasing leaves and birds. The dog was perking up a bit, coming to terms with Grandma’s death. That he had been there for her passing at least meant they had avoided any kind of Hachiko situation, with the dog waiting for his master’s return forevermore, but aside from his own mother’s furry tummy, Grandma’s soft, warm hands had been his first sensation in the world, so sometimes at night he would lie awake at the foot of Charlotte’s bed, whining quietly at the moon through the open curtains, as though he was watching the sky for Grandma.

Kelly, wrapped in a knee-length duffel coat, looked ready for an Arctic expedition as she waved hello, striding swiftly across Big Gerry’s Plaza towards where Charlotte stood close to another thick sycamore, using its trunk as a windbreak. She wrapped Charlotte in a bear hug, Charlotte’s fragile bones at risk of fragmenting beneath the strength of Kelly’s farmwork-built frame.

‘How are you bearing up?’ Kelly asked, and Charlotte immediately burst into tears.

‘Not … the best,’ she sobbed. ‘The house is so empty without Grandma. I just find myself wandering from room to room, not sure what to do with myself.’

‘Harvest’s long over, so anytime you need wine, coffee, or weepy films, I’m ready,’ Kelly said.

‘And with Christmas coming … there’s so much that needs to be done.’

Kelly patted her arm. ‘You’re getting ahead of yourself. One thing at a time, Charlotte.’

‘I know, but … I haven’t even put the tree up yet.’

‘It’s still November. No hurry.’

‘But what if … he doesn’t come this year?’

Kelly sighed. ‘Charlotte … how about you just concentrate on getting the funeral out of the way. Then you can start worrying about Christmas. Have you organised the wake yet?’

‘The wake?’

‘Yes. Haven’t you ever been to one? It’s kind of like an after party where people share their memories of your grandmother, all that kind of thing. You need a little finger food, some drinks. Nothing too heavy. Set out a few photos of your grandmother and you’re good to go.’

‘Right….’

‘So you haven’t thought about it?’

Charlotte puffed out her cheeks and scratched her nose. ‘To be honest, I’ve been trying to figure out how to get my school schedule back on track after missing the best part of a week. Do you think I could just skip it?’

‘Ah, well, you could … but it might upset people. You can’t really talk that much at funerals, so people like the chance to share their memories. When my uncle died last year, more people showed up to the wake than the funeral.’ Kelly grinned. ‘I think it was the free Eccles cakes. My aunt was a whizz at making those.’ She grinned. ‘Uncle Ron died of a heart attack. I remember my mother claiming Aunt Suzy was attempting to spread the wealth.’

Charlotte gave a breathy whistle.

‘You think I’ll need Eccles cakes?’

‘No, only a bit of finger food. If you don’t want people to stay for long, just get some cheese on sticks from the supermarket.’

‘Right … do I need to book a hall or something?’

‘Did your grandmother have a favourite café or anything like that?’

Charlotte frowned, then tapped her chin with a finger, trying to remember. Grandma had been the life and soul of every party, the central cog around which the local social life had revolved.

‘All of them,’ she said.

Kelly groaned. ‘That’s not very helpful. Pick one.’

‘Well … I suppose the last one I remember her mentioning was that place up on the high street. Marguerita’s? Was that it?’

Kelly shook her head. ‘I know the one. Marjorie’s. Aunt Marjorie’s Tea Room. It’s a lovely place. Why don’t you ask them if you can have the wake there? It does spectacular cakes and there’s a pub a couple of doors down for anyone who wants something a bit stronger than tea.’

Charlotte clicked her fingers, feeling somewhat cheered at this change of course. ‘What a great idea,’ she said. ‘I’ll go up and speak to them right away.’