Page 103 of The Christmas Elf

“I’ve liked being at the other house,” her mum said. “You haven’t been rushing about, making me eat when I’m not hungry. We spent time together.”

It was true. She’d had more time for her and was able to care for her more than she could at Winterbourne Hall. She’d enjoyed a few days not thinking about the place and just being able to focus on her mum. A weight had lifted for a short time.

“We did,” Frances said, nearly choking on the guilt. “But it’s time to go home now. I have the hall to look after.”

Her mum sniffed and looked out the passenger window.

“It’s like a prison,” she grumbled. “We never go anywhere.”

The word lodged deep inside her. A prison? What did that make her? The warden? It was partly true, in a strange way, but only for the purposes of keeping her safe. Her mum’s world had shrunk from acres and endless rooms to a handful she could move through safely. Protection had become restriction, whether she meant it to or not.

How was she going to step into Lucie’s shoes and do what she did? She couldn’t. The hall needed her; she couldn’t just abandon it. Perhaps she could employ another carer to come and sit with her mum whilst she worked? But then, her mum had only been agreeable over Lucie because she seemed to take to her.

Maybe she should never have let Lucie into their lives. Had they both got too attached to the Christmas elf? She’d offered freedoms that couldn’t be sustained for either of them.

She looked back to her mum at the next set of lights. Her eyes were closed, but the moistness at their corners was unmistakable. Frances didn’t want to leave either. Not London. Not Lucie, whom, if she was being honest with herself, she had already fallen too far for.

Lucie was right in everything she’d said about the past months together. Every day had been brightened, knowing it wouldn’t be long before she saw her. Once Lucie said goodbye tomorrow, she wasn’t even sure when she’d see her again, and the thought stole her breath away.

The estate had transformed by the time they returned. Bright banners advertising the February half-term event had replaced the festive ones. Even in her absence, the wheels of the estate kept turning.

With the site still closed for the final day of packing away Christmas, Frances was grateful to be able to drive down to the stable courtyard to unload their bags. Any other time, in an attempt to not spoil any view of the hall, parking was restricted for all staff to the main car park. Even their groceries were delivered at night when the visitors had gone so that they could be brought as far as the stable courtyard.

As soon as they stepped inside the house, her mum removed her coat. “I want to lie down,” she said, handing it to Frances.

“I’ll take the car back, and then I’ll nip to the office,” Frances said, seizing the opportunity to check in. “I won’t be long.”

Her mum gave a small nod and disappeared into her room. Frances watched her go with a heaviness in her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she opened the front door and headed back out, the heaviness now weighing on her own shoulders.

Having returned the car to the car park, Frances made her way into the hall, where staff were just putting the finishing touches to a deep clean. Everything gleamed, as if Christmas had never happened. And yet it had. Lucie had drifted into her life, a rogue tide, and now she was watching her drift back out.

As she passed the inner courtyard, she slowed. The rink was gone. Benches and pot plants were back in their places, and her evening there with Lucie felt somewhat erased. It all felt erased, as if the past months had been flattened into a dream that she was waking from too soon. Lucie had left a real mark on her, though, one that hadn’t stopped burning since she’d fallen into her arms a few months ago.

She opened the small, wooden door up to the offices and climbed the stairs, remembering the feeling of Lucie dropping into her arms, as if she were a gift sent from above. She stopped halfway up, trying to catch her breath. It wasn’t the climb that winded her; it was the thought of losing Lucie, of her mum not improving, of the hall never slowing, all tightening in her chest until there was no room left to breathe. She forced herself up the remaining steps, and though her breath steadied as she reached the top, the weight of it all hadn’t.

She paused outside her office, her gaze settling on the plaque that simply read CEO. No name, just the title. What did it matter who sat behind the door? Winterbourne Hall deserved a CEO who could give it their full attention, someone focused and fully present. Right now, she couldn’t offer any of that. Nor could she give her mum the consistency of care she deserved, and she knew all too well from her own upbringing what that felt like.

Maybe she didn’t have to dig up her roots. If she pruned a few branches instead, she could give herself room to shape what came next, help make it more bearable. She turned and headed for Mara’s office, her heart racing at the plan forming in her mind.