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“Lucie? As in Lucie Brown?”

“Yes,” Frances replied, taking her coat and hanging it up. “Come through,” she added quickly, hoping to shut down further questions. “Do you remember, Mara, Mum?” she asked as they entered the sitting room.

Her mum examined her latest guest for a moment and then said unconvincingly, “Oh, yes. Of course.”

Frances knew by now to just follow her mum’s lead in these things.

“Hi, Rose. It’s lovely to see you again, and Lucie.” Mara flashed her a tight smile. “Are you working today?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, I hope you’ve layered up. It’s just started snowing.”

“Champagne?” Frances cut in.

“Best not if I’m working,” Mara said lightly.

“True,” Frances said coolly. “Appletiser?”

“Perfect, thanks.”

“And you, Lucie?” Frances asked, reaching for a glass.

“I’ll have the same, thanks.”

Mara perched on a stool at the breakfast bar. “Did you have a nice day yesterday?”

Before Frances could answer, her mum glanced up and said, “What did we do yesterday? Oh — was that when we were with Lucie’s family for lunch?”

Frances immediately felt Mara’s eyes on her. She avoided her gaze, which meant she instead caught Lucie biting her bottom lip.

“Yes, Mum,” Frances confirmed, a note of strained patience threading her tone.

“Oh... how lovely... for you all,” Mara stammered, the last three words coming a little harder.

“How was yours?” Frances asked quickly.

“It was much the same as it always is. Steve’s mum and dad were their usual uncheerful selves.” Mara sighed. “I was glad to get away today. They go home tomorrow, thankfully. Then Steve is off later in the week for the stag do, and I’ll have the place to myself.”

“There!” her mum suddenly announced, placing the final puzzle piece.

“Well done. Do you think we could lay the table now?” Frances said, lifting the vegetables from the oven.

“I can do that,” Lucie said, joining in with breaking up the puzzle.

“Could you give me a hand and drain those sprouts?” Frances asked Mara, hoping to draw her attention away from Lucie, who was laying the table with such familiarity it might seem as if she lived there.

Working efficiently, they pulled Boxing Day lunch together while her mum looked on from her seat at the table. Frances caught herself glancing over more than once. It felt strange to see her sitting idle when, in past years, she would have orchestrated everything. Now she simply watched, hands folded in her lap, no longer in command.

When Frances was a child, they had had a small army of staff to ensure a flawless Christmas. It had seemed as though the day simply arranged itself around them. Now the memory sat uneasily on her mind. While they’d been served, others were absent from their own tables, their families carrying on without them.

“Don’t think I don’t have more questions,” Mara murmured, taking a dish of roast potatoes from her.

“Do take a seat, Mara,” Frances replied, eyes widening in what was hopefully a clear bid for her friend to pipe down.

They finally sat and tucked into the beef, roasted vegetables, Yorkshire puddings, and gravy. A wave of gratitude washed over Frances at seeing her mum opposite her and Lucie and Mara beside her. The table had changed over the years. People would come and go. Chairs would be added or left empty. She savoured the perfection of it, wondering who would be sitting around it next year.

“Would you cut up my beef please, Frances?”