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It sounded simple, and Lucie couldn’t wait to get started as an elf. It was the thing she regretted most about the direction her career had taken over the last few years, having drifted away from teaching drama into an admin-based role: the people.

As project coordinator, she was responsible for assessing needs in different areas and placing therapists where they could best help people. She just wished she were a qualified drama therapist so that, instead of coordinating workshops, she could lead them.

Botswana didn’t have the same strict registration body as the UK, and she had never needed formal qualifications beyond her drama degree. The organisation she worked for, however, insisted on a postgraduate qualification, and she wasn’t convinced she wanted to return home and re-enter the education system to get one.

The group made their way out of the main entrance on the south side of the hall and around to a wide stone archway. The scent of pine resin and sugar filled the air as they walked under it into a large courtyard. A sign at the entrance read: Stable Courtyard closed. A smaller archway on the opposite side sparked Lucie’s curiosity about where it might lead. She now had a thirst for closed-off areas.

On the left, a café stood behind fogged glass, its windows clouded by the warmth and chatter of visitors inside. Now and then, a hand would wipe a clear arc in the glass, and faces would peer out at what was going on. Opposite the café was a gift shop, and in the centre, wooden chalets adorned with festive decorations were being stocked with handcrafted items for the Christmas market.

As the group moved on, Lucie’s gaze caught movement across the courtyard. A familiar figure paused at a lebkuchen stall. She almost didn’t recognise the woman beaming at the vendor. It was the woman who had caught her at the bottom of the spiral staircase. She definitely hadn’t been smiling then. Pity. It suited her.

There was something about the woman that made her stomach tingle, and that was seriously unhelpful. Those sorts of feelings weren’t supposed to be on the cards. She hadn’t been in a serious relationship since university over a decade ago, and by now she had settled into being single.

The woman wasn’t even Lucie’s usual type. Her previous relationships had been with more butch women, and this one appeared more feminine than a pink bus full of feminists on their way to a Paris Paloma concert.

Dragging herself back from her thoughts, she blinked and noticed the woman’s gaze flick across her. Their eyes locked. It wasn’t for long, but it held until the woman’s expression changed. The easy public smile was still at the edges of her lips, yet something more focused and measured ran through it.

“Lucie, please keep up,” Hannah’s voice called from somewhere, breaking the moment.

In a small panic, Lucie looked around, trying to locate her group, only to see them disappearing back out of the courtyard. As she hustled after them, she glanced back and saw the woman striding away in the opposite direction through the smaller private archway, lebkuchen in hand.

Her thoughts had often drifted back to her since their first meeting — if it even counted as one. It was more of an unplanned collision. Given the woman’s outfit, which was more suited to an office than a boots-on-the-ground role, she wondered whether she worked in HR or even marketing. With the estate so large and the chances of bumping into her again so slim, it was best to forget about her and focus on her new job. It was an easy thought to have — and less easy to act on.

Taking the main path to the visitor car park, they then double-backed on themselves, following the currently closed-off light trail through the woods to the hall. Lucie barely registered it; her attention kept slipping sideways. Halfway through, a group of men stood around a large sleigh beside a grotto, holding strings of lights and raising their voices at each other.

Back in the staff room, they collected their elf uniforms: red-and-white striped leggings that slipped easily over Lucie’s thermals and a long, fitted green tunic with white faux-fur trim at the collar and cuffs, finished off with a matching hat. She felt instantly transformed, as if she’d stepped straight into a workshop at the North Pole.

Hannah then gave them free rein to familiarise themselves with the site, asking them to encourage visitors away from the attractions while staff put on the finishing touches. Lucie wandered around inside to begin, seeking out the ice rink in the inner courtyard, and then headed outside to find that the light was beginning to fade. She wanted to take another look at the facilities available to visitors and their location in case anyone asked for directions, particularly those in the stable courtyard. Having been somewhat distracted on that part of the tour, she didn’t feel she’d taken everything in.

In the courtyard, she saw that the chalets were now lit with fairy lights, giving the area a lovely atmosphere. Realising she hadn’t actually missed much the first time, she made a quick note of all the chalets’ offerings on her phone. Inhaling the scent of roasting chestnuts, she retraced her steps back through the arch, where hot food trucks now lined the main path, hatches open.

The smell from a hog roast truck made her stomach growl. She hoped she would have time in her fifteen-minute break not only to queue, but to also devour a pork bap. Beside it was a hot chocolate van. She couldn’t wait to try it, provided it came with an adequate crown of squirty cream. Stingy portions were unforgivable. Hot chocolate needed serving with a spoon, and definitely no marshmallows. They just got in the way.

As she began adding the food options to her note, a coatless elderly lady sitting on a bench behind the vans caught her eye. Lucie watched her for a moment, recognising a lost expression on her face that had once been so familiar to her. Deciding to check that the woman was okay, she wandered over.

Frances covered a yawn as she walked home from her office. She’d got little sleep last night due to her mum’s restlessness, and tiredness was the last thing she needed today. As much as she tried to shield her mum from the Winter Wonderland goings-on at all hours, the increasing noise and nighttime light testing seemed to be unsettling her more each day.

With the press and VIPs due shortly, she had left work earlier than usual to prepare her mum’s dinner. She would then leave and return home again a little later to help her to bed. With any luck, a sleeping tablet would keep her settled until morning, allowing Frances to return to the site to oversee the end of opening night.

She turned the corner and saw immediately that the house was in darkness. The hallway light wasn’t glowing as it always did; it should’ve been on. She dashed across the courtyard. Something wasn’t right, and it made her chest tighten.

She slipped the key into the lock, then noticed, heart now dropping into her stomach, that the door was already open. She always made sure it was locked tight for safety reasons. Although there were signs telling visitors Holly Court was private, they still wandered where they weren’t supposed to.

As she entered the house, Frances switched on the hall light and dropped her handbag and keys on the table. A cellophane bag of lebkuchen slipped out onto it.

“Mum, are you here?” Frances called out, trying to control the level of worry coming through her voice in case she was.

The silence was deafening, more so as she knew the television had been on when she had left after lunch. Frances had made sure her mum had everything she needed beside her chair, even turning the television up to drown out any distracting noises outside. Had she turned it off again by mistake and couldn’t turn it back on?

Her mum wasn’t normally one for wandering off, but with her illness, anything was possible, and by now Frances knew not to rely on past behaviours to predict future ones. Noticing her mum’s coat was still on the peg confused her further.

“Mum?” she repeated, waiting desperately for a response.

A quick check of the rooms confirmed her worst fear — her mum was gone. The spare key was hanging right next to the door where it always hung, in case her mum needed to get out in an emergency. She must have unlocked the door and put it back before she left.

Frances grabbed her keys and headed outside, leaving the door to slam shut behind her. Half running through the two courtyards, she stumbled out onto the main path and stopped, allowing her heart a minute to calm.

Crowds were beginning to congregate for the Winter Wonderland’s grand opening. She wound her way through them, scanning their depths as she made her way towards the gardens. Noticing a group of visitors gathering around the café door, and not spotting her mum amongst them, she headed inside.