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Frances rubbed her chin. She’d suspected for a while now that Mara knew something was afoot. Lying to people was hard, and being no actor, she was sure people were beginning to suspect things weren’t quite as they should be. It was easier to say her mum was busy with her charity work than to tell people the woman they once looked up to was becoming a shell of herself thanks to Alzheimer’s.

“Frances? Is everything okay?” Mara asked again, more firmly.

She thought for a moment. Getting the right shots was crucial for the video and the whole project. She’d spent the morning in the café and gift shop with the videographer, perfecting the shots they needed. She really needed to finish the job, but her mum might need her too.

“Start without me. You know what we want. I’m sure you’ll manage. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

Frances hung up with a frustrated sigh, knowing she would have to trust Mara to oversee the final presentation of the Winter Wonderland.

Unsure what to do next, Frances considered raising the alarm. Where would her mum go? She might be afraid in the dark and make her way home — if she remembered where it was. Deciding it was worth checking back at least before heading into the hall, Frances moved as quickly as her heels would allow through the stable courtyard and into Holly Court.

Spotting the bathroom light shining beside the hallway light she had left on, she clasped her hand to her chest and let out a long breath. She wouldn’t settle until she saw her mum for herself. Striding to the door, she put her key in and found it unlocked as she’d left it.

“Mum! Mum, are you here?” Frances called as she stepped inside.

“Yes, love,” a frail voice came back from the sitting room.

Frances rested one hand on the hall table. Her legs vibrated beneath her, the product of high-octane anxiety crashing directly into a brick wall of relief.

“Where have you been? I was so worried,” Frances called back with a wobbly voice.

“Sorry. I went for a walk.”

Frances hung up her coat and then entered the sitting room to find her mum in her chair, turning the pages of the Radio Times. She knew it was more out of habit than anything; her mum would end up flicking through the channels as she always did, finding something safe and familiar.

“You know you aren’t supposed to go out without me,” Frances said, giving her mum’s shoulder a squeeze and turning the television on with the remote. “You didn’t even take your coat.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Well, no harm done, I suppose. You're back now,” Frances said casually, not wanting to worry her.

“Look, I found some lebkuchen on the hall table. I like that.” Her mum pointed at the bag on her side table. “It must really be Christmas, like she said.”

“Like who said?” Frances asked as she walked over to the kitchen.

“The elf who helped me home,” she replied, aiming the remote at the television.

“Okay,” Frances replied, puzzled by what she meant. Rather than push her, she reached for a tin in a cupboard. “I’ll heat some soup for you, and then I have to go back out. Will you be okay on your own?”

“Yes, I’ll be all right,” she said, her voice shaking a little. “I’ve got my lebkuchen.”

Her mum began stabbing at the remote and changing the channels as predicted.

“You have, Mum,” Frances confirmed, chuckling to herself as the soup drained into the saucepan.

The laughter was nerves, fuelled by the adrenaline still pumping through her veins. A frightening alternative could have easily played out, but for now, her mum was safe at home. All she could do was muddle through each day as it came. She couldn’t be in two places at once.

Would a tracker be a step too far? How would she even ensure her mum would keep it on her person? A camera on the front door might be better. That would be reassuring and alert her to any movement.

She scribbled a note on the pad beside the table, reminding her mum to let the soup cool for five minutes before eating it and that she’d be back around eight to help her to bed. Then Frances headed out again.

As she crossed the courtyard, her mind drifted to her mum’s elf comment. It could be true. There were elves about now. One could have helped her. At least, if one did, they were temporary staff and unlikely to raise any concerns over an old, confused woman wandering coatless around the estate in the dark.

As she sped past the wooden chalets, her mind drifted to one elf in particular — Lucie, last spotted earlier in the day when Frances had stopped to buy some lebkuchen before the crowds came. Lucie had been so busy looking over at Frances that her group had walked off without her.

Why was she even staring in her direction? Of course, it wasn’t as if she could help staring back; the woman was captivating. Frances pushed any thoughts of her away, wondering why she was having so many of them lately. She was an employee, for goodness’ sake.

Her mind soon drifted back to her mum and the note she’d left for her. Should she have added a time to it so that her mum would know when five minutes had passed and the soup would be cool enough to eat? It was too late now. She would have to trust that she was likely to forget about it and eat it cold anyway. A wave of guilt hit her that she couldn’t sit with her whilst she ate as she normally would in the evenings. There just wasn’t time tonight.