Their Christmas Family Miracle. Caroline Anderson

into the bedroom Kitty and Edward were sharing and packed their clothes and toys, with her mind firmly shut down and her thoughts banished for now.

      She could think later. There’d be time to think once they were out of here. In the meantime, she needed to gather up the children and any other bits and pieces she’d overlooked and get them out before she totally lost it. She went down with the bags hanging like bunches of grapes from her fingers, dumped them in the hall and went into the euphemistically entitled family room, where her children were lying on their tummies watching the TV with the dog between them.

      Not on the sofa again, mercifully.

      ‘Kitty? Edward? Come and help me look for all your things, because we’re going to go and see Kate and Megan.’

      ‘What—now?’ Edward asked, twisting round, his face sceptical. ‘It’s nearly lunch time.’

      ‘Are we going to Kate’s for lunch?’ Kitty asked brightly.

      ‘Yes. It’s a surprise.’ A surprise for Kate, at least, she thought, hustling them through the house and gathering up the last few traces of their brief but eventful stay.

      ‘Why do we need all our things to go and see Kate and Megan for lunch?’ Kitty asked, but Edward got there first and shushed her. Bless his heart. Eight years old and she’d be lost without him.

      They met up with Laura in the kitchen, her face strained, a bag in her hand.

      ‘I found these,’ she said, giving it to Amelia. ‘The baby’s bottles. There was one in the dishwasher, too.’

      ‘Thanks. Right, well, I just need to get the baby up and fold his cot, and we’ll be out of your hair.’

      She retreated upstairs to get him. Poor Thomas. He whimpered and snuggled into her as she picked him up, and she collapsed his travel cot one-handed and bumped it down the stairs. Their stuff was piled by the door, and she wondered if Andy might come out of his study and give them a hand to load it into her car, but the door stayed resolutely shut throughout.

      It was just as well. It would save her the bother of being civil.

      She put the baby in his seat, the cold air bringing him wide awake and protesting, threw their things into the boot and buckled the other two in, with Rufus on the floor in the front, before turning to her sister with her last remnant of pride and meeting her eyes.

      ‘Thank you for having us. I’m sorry it was so difficult.’

      Laura’s face creased in a mixture of distress and embarrassment. ‘Oh, don’t. I’m so sorry, Millie. I hope you get sorted out. Here, these are for the children.’ She handed over a bag of presents, all beautifully wrapped. Of course. They would be. Also expensive and impossible to compete with. And that wasn’t what it was supposed to be about, but she took them, her arm working on autopilot.

      ‘Thank you. I’m afraid I haven’t got round to getting yours yet—’

      ‘It doesn’t matter. I hope you find somewhere nice soon. And—take this, please. I know money’s tight for you at the moment, but it might give you the first month’s rent or deposit—’

      She stared at the cheque. ‘Laura, I can’t—’

      ‘Yes, you can. Please. Owe me, if you have to, but take it. It’s the least I can do.’

      So she took it, stuffing it into her pocket without looking at it. ‘I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.’

      ‘Whenever. Have a good Christmas.’

      How she found that smile she’d never know. ‘And you,’ she said, unable to bring herself to say the actual words, and getting behind the wheel and dropping the presents into the passenger footwell next to Rufus, she shut the door before her sister could lean in and hug her, started the engine and drove away.

      ‘Mummy, why are we taking all our Christmas presents and Rufus and the cot and everything to Kate and Megan’s for lunch?’ Kitty asked, still obviously troubled and confused, as well she might be.

      Damn Laura. Damn Andy. And especially damn David. She schooled her expression and threw a smile over her shoulder at her little daughter. ‘Well, we aren’t going to stay with Auntie Laura and Uncle Andy any more, so after we’ve had lunch we’re going to go somewhere else to stay,’ she said.

      ‘Why? Don’t they like us?’

      Ouch. ‘Of course they do,’ she lied, ‘but they just need a bit of space.’

      ‘So where are we going?’

      It was a very good question, but one Millie didn’t have a hope of answering right now…

      It was an ominous sound.

      He’d heard it before, knew instantly what it was, and Jake felt his mouth dry and his heart begin to pound. He glanced up over his shoulder, swore softly and turned, skiing sideways straight across and down the mountain, pushing off on his sticks and plunging down and away from the path of the avalanche that was threatening to wipe him out, his legs driving him forward out of its reach.

      The choking powder cloud it threw up engulfed him, blinding him as the raging, roaring monster shot past behind him. The snow was shaking under his skis, the air almost solid with the fine snow thrown up as the snowfield covering the side of the ridge collapsed and thundered down towards the valley floor below.

      He was skiing blind, praying that he was still heading in the right direction, hoping that the little stand of trees down to his left was now above him and not still in front of him, because at the speed he was travelling to hit one could be fatal.

      It wasn’t fatal, he discovered. It was just unbelievably, immensely painful. He bounced off a tree, then felt himself lifted up and carried on by the snow—down towards the scattered tumble of rocks at the bottom of the snowfield.

      Hell.

      With his last vestige of self-preservation, he triggered the airbags of his avalanche pack, and then he hit the rocks…

      ‘Can you squeeze in a few more for lunch?’

      Kate took one look at them all, opened the door wide and ushered them inside. ‘What on earth is going on?’ she asked, her concerned eyes seeking out the truth from Millie’s face.

      ‘We’ve come for lunch,’ Kitty said, still sounding puzzled. ‘And then we’re going to find somewhere to live. Auntie Laura and Uncle Andy don’t want us. Mummy says they need space, but I don’t think they like us.’

      ‘Of course they do, darling. They’re just very busy, that’s all.’

      Kate’s eyes flicked down to Kitty with the dog at her side, to Edward, standing silently and saying nothing, and back to Millie. ‘Nice timing,’ she said flatly, reading between the lines.

      ‘Tell me about it,’ she muttered. ‘Got any good ideas?’

      Kate laughed slightly hysterically and handed the three older children a bag of chocolate coins off the tree. ‘Here, guys, go and get stuck into these while Mummy and I have a chat. Megan, share nicely and don’t give any chocolate to Rufus.’

      ‘I always share nicely! Come on, we can share them out—and Rufus, you’re not having any!’

      Rolling her eyes, Kate towed Amelia down to the other end of the narrow room that was the entire living space in her little cottage, put the kettle on and raised an eyebrow. ‘Well?’

      She shifted Thomas into a more comfortable position in her arms. ‘They aren’t really child-orientated. They don’t have any, and I’m not sure if it’s because they haven’t got round to it or because they really don’t like them,’ Millie said softly.

      ‘And your lot were too much of a dose of reality?’

      She smiled a little tightly. ‘The dog got on the sofa, and Thomas is teething.’

      ‘Ah.’