Chapter Text
The sky is clear Christmas morning, a stiff wind blowing the fine snow in gusts up the quiet street. The girls, sent out to play despite the cold, run in shrieking circles around the back garden with fistfuls of snow.
Caro finds Cathy in the girls’ room folding sweaters into suitcases pulled down from below the eaves.
“Any luck,” she says, peering through the film of frost on the windowpane, “they’ll tire themselves out and fall asleep on the train.”
“You always say that,” Cathy says, “and they always do … right about Wallyford.”
“Oh, let their auntie dream,” Caro laughs.