Winter’s Children: Curl up with this gripping, page-turning mystery as the nights get darker. Leah Fleming

never too young to learn that death is part of life, that sometimes terrible things can happen. Every time I try to tell her about Tim’s accident, she covers her ears and says he’s gone away to make more pennies. We mustn’t turn him into some plaster saint or pretend he’s just in some other place.’ Kay paused, seeing the look of pain on Eunice’s face, but the truth had to be spoken.

      ‘We’re only doing what we think best for Evie,’ Eunice muttered uncomprehending.

      ‘Of course, I know … we all miss him but he was so driven sometimes … I wonder if it was worth it,’ came the weary reply.

      ‘You wanted for nothing, my girl. He gave you both a good life. He died for his family.’ Eunice’s eyes flashed with accusation as she spoke.

      ‘If only he hadn’t tried to squeeze too much into his frantic schedule. He was belting down the motorway in bad weather, late as usual for his next meeting, when he should have been spending time with us. He died as he lived– in the fast lane. It’s so unfair, and I just don’t want to be here … on Christmas Eve. Can’t you understand?’ Kay argued.

      ‘I have to go now before we get sucked into everything.’ There was nothing more to say.

      ‘You’ve grown so hard these past few months. I might have known you’d something up your sleeve. I hope you’re not filling Evie up with bitterness.’ The gloves were off now.

      ‘Someone has to be there for Evie. I gave up my career gladly to bring her up but I’ll not stand by and let you fill her up with the notion Tim is not dead. How many times have we moved to further his career? How many uprootings and refurnishings were there to organise? Have you forgotten that all our furniture is still in storage and that we were in the middle of a move when he died? Or that he wanted us to move over Christmas so as not to miss that sales conference in Frankfurt? I’ve been stranded with you ever since, rootless, paralysed by shock and inertia. He worked so hard – too hard – and what appreciation did he get from that bloody company? Hardly any of his work colleagues turned up for his funeral. They just threw money at us to salve their consciences … I need never work again … Don’t you think I’d love nothing more than for him to walk through that door? But I’ve seen his body … I can’t bear to go through that day again in this very same place … I’m sorry.

      ‘What was it all for, Eunice, tell me? One day he was there and then he’s not, and I’m left neither one thing nor the other. I’m not single, I’m not divorced but I am a widow with a child.’ All the bitterness was pouring out in a torrent. She looked at Eunice’s crestfallen face but she couldn’t back down now.

      Kay reached out her hand in a gesture of conciliation and whispered, ‘One minute life was hunkydory, waiting for the Christmas jamboree to begin, cake in the tin, pudding on the shelf, turkey in the pantry, Evie jumping up and down waiting for Father Christmas, and then the balloon was burst in our faces and we were left to wipe our tears, smile to protect Evie, trying to pretend Tim was delayed. We’ve been doing that ever since. It has to be different this year, for all our sakes.’

      She looked up to see Eunice nodding in silence. Dennis was standing by the door and he put his hands on Kay’s shoulder.

      ‘The girl’s got a point, Mother. Evie needs something to look forward to. We’ve got our memories and she’s got her mum. They have to do what’s best for them. I don’t know how you’ve coped all this time, Kay.’ Dennis Partridge was not one for long speeches and Kay felt mean to have upset them both.

      ‘What’ll we do, Dennis?’ Eunice looked up shaking her head.

      ‘We’ve got each other and a chance to visit your friend in Bath, who’s been begging us for years to come and stay. It’s time we moved on too. They’ll come and see us when they’re settled, won’t you?’ Dennis pleaded.

      ‘Of course, and you can come and visit us in the New Year,’ Kay said, relieved that her decision was out in the open. There was no turning back from this strange impulse to get the hell out of Sutton in time for Christmas, to find somewhere to hide from the festivities, where no one knew her as ‘that woman who lost her hubby on Christmas Eve'.

      They were lucky. There was insurance money enough for choices and treats and distractions. Now she was going to follow that dream. That was enough for now.

      Kay stubbed out her cigarette, peering into the darkness. She was taking a ridiculous gamble in renting a house she had never seen, but it felt right. Wintergill sounded so solid and the perfect spot to hide for a few months until she rethought their future. It would be a bolt hole. The darkness of the season would shield them from view. No one knew their business here. Few would remember her mother, who left home when she was a student. If only her parents were still alive but, as an only child, she’d no family of her own for support.

      The move would give her time to sort Evie’s understanding of why Daddy could never be on her Christmas list.

      She wound down the window further and sniffed the air. The snow had turned back to rain, dowsing her face with stinging droplets. It was time to make her way down the track. Time to test out her fantasy and the four-wheel drive.

      Nik was soaking in the bath when he heard the doorbell ring in the hall and Muffin barking wildly. There was no expecting his mother to answer it for him for she was down in Wintergill, not due back until she had caught up with all the doings down the dale.

      The keys for the Partridges were waiting on the hall table. The couple were late, very late and Nik had hoped with all the rain Yorkshire had been having lately they might have called off their holiday. The barometer was looking grim. Townies were soft when it came to bad weather. He tried to ignore the ringing but it carried on. Nik grabbed a towel and sloshed his way downstairs, leaving a trail of drips on the dark oak.

      ‘Yes?’ he answered gruffly.

      ‘This is Wintergill House?’ said a woman, shivering in the doorway, trying not to stare at his shrunken towel. ‘Yes.’ He tried to look casual.

      ‘I’m sorry we’re so late but we got held up. I’ve come for the key. Sorry to disturb you.’

      ‘No problem,’ he replied, muttering oaths and curses to himself. ‘Come inside while I change.’ He left a trail of drips up the stairs when he left her standing in the hall examining the old prints and the black oak panelling. Damn and blast, he’d have to get dressed and sort them out. Why couldn’t they have arrived at a civilised hour? This was just the sort of nuisance holiday lets invited. His quiet evening in was spoiled now. He searched for his keys in the clutter on the table.

      Time was when they could leave everything unlocked on the farm – doors, tractors, pickups. Now it was getting like Fort Knox. Only last month some spark took a length of coping stones from the tops of their boundary walls; hundreds of them, to be sold for a fiver a time on some car-boot sale miles away, no questions asked. The quad bike had to be locked in the barn or it would go walkabout.

      Nik pulled on his jeans and sweater, his ragged Barbour and old flat cap out of habit. Muffin jumped in on the act, thinking they were going out into the fields in the back of the pickup. The moon was rising now in the dark sky. The storm had abated as he guided the Land Rover towards the Side House. There was only a woman and a child in the car. Where was the couple Mother was expecting? She would not be well pleased at a child in tow.

      The courtyard was in complete darkness, only the working dogs barking at the arrival of strangers. He took them down the track to Side House Barn and brought out the keys from his pocket. It was usually Mother’s job showing lets around the house, pointing out switches and timers and points. He just about knew about the fuse box and the fuel store. This was women’s work.

      ‘The storage heaters are on. The place is warm and aired. Mrs Snowden will see to the rest in the morning. She’s left a welcome basket on the table so help yourself,’ he answered, standing in the darkness, not thinking of anything else to say. Be damned if he was going to make a fuss.

      ‘Thank you,’ nodded the redhead in