"I'll get it, Eric!" Faith called out at the sound of the clanging bell in the hall. Tottering across the laminate floor in her high heels, she opened the door with a bright smile to find an unfamiliar face staring back at her. Faith, not one to judge, could not help but survey her properly. Smart, well dressed, if foolishly for Yorkshire weather, a little sparkling Beanie hat with waves of dark hair framing a very pale face with what appeared to be unaturally large brown eyes. By contrast to Faith, who was used to cheap as chips and a little luxury now and then, Jean could have been the Queen of Sheba. She had an air of class about her that suggested that she wasn't local.

"Merry Christmas!" She greeted the stunned girl who stood on the step, face pinched from the cold. "Oh, 'ello. What can we do fer you?"

Jean swallowed.

"Sorry. You're obviously..." she turned to walk away.

"Ey, I don't bite!' Faith teased, "yer look like yer could do wi' a nice hot brew."

"Its okay. Sorry I disturbed you." Jean apologised quickly, turning her back and walking away briskly as fast as she could manage through the snow. The bitter weather had left the courtyard like an ice rink.

"Ey; come back here!" Faith shouted after her, waving.

"Er...Faith, I would rather..." an old man with white hair and a tight expression appeared at her side, "what on earth is this?"

"Little lass," Faith explained, "just rang t'bell, I en't 'ad much chance to talk to 'er."

"I see. Well, mind you keep an eye." He hissed, watching the girl shuffle around the yard.

"Will do, Captain." Faith saluted pointedly.

"You've seen the helm I bought then?"

"I have. Very strong structure." Faith grinned. "I wouldn't mind tryin' it out later." She winked.

"We'll see."

"Could be your first mate." Faith shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"Aha!" Eric held up his finger and wandered off to the kitchen.

"Ey!" Faith caught up with the mysterious stranger, "what's all this about, eh? Knockin' on doors and then runnin' away?"

Jean ignored her.

"There's definitely summat up." Faith blocked her way. "Come on, lass. I en't gonna judge yer."

"I got lost, I thought..." Jean admitted, "I'm looking for someone and the place I thought he lived...well, he's not there anymore." She shrugged.

Faith saw the desperation, the despondence in Jean's face.

"I see. Well, yer can't be wanderin' round 'ere on yer own, I know that much, 'specially not on Christmas Eve." She put her arm around Jean's shoulder, "yer must be about the same age as our Sarah, I'd like to think someone'd do t'same for her if she were in trouble." She ushered her around to face the barn, "come on, lass. I'll make yer a brew, then we'll see about findin' this friend o'yours?"

"He's not a friend."

"Alright, boyfriend then?" Faith suggested good naturedly.

"No."

"Pretty lass like you? Yer should 'ave beaus aplenty, 'angin off both arms?"

Jean shook her head.

"Never mind, plenty o'time for it. There's all sorts in our family. Live and let live is what I say." Faith led her into the house and a comfortable open plan lounge. "Now, you take a seat there, lovie. I'll get us a brew and 'ow about some nice biscuits? Eh?"

Jean nodded, sitting obediently on one of the sofas; relishing the warmth of the fire and welcome. It was certainly better than being outside in the cold, even if it was a slight against everything her mother had ever taught her. She wondered how she was doing and her hand reached into her pocket for her phone. A flashing battery icon declared that it was desperately low on power. Frowning, she shoved it back into her pocket and took a moment to adjust and reflect, a pertinent, painful memory rushing back.

"You're not to see him, Jean! I forbid it!"

"You can't forbid me! I'm fifteen years old! It's my choice!"

"You're still a child and I'm your mother. You'll stay here, do as you're told!"

"I want to see him! Why shouldn't I? Please, Mum, tell me!"

"You know why, you know! What is it between the two of you? You love him more than you love me?"

"No, Mum! Of course I don't! I just…want to see him."

"And you will. Eventually. But until then, you'll stay here. Do you understand me, Jean?"

Faith shuffled into the kitchen, where Eric was pottering around and tapped his shoulder.

"You look happy." He observed.

"My good deed for t'day."

"Oh yes?"

"I've brought her in. Poor thing, looking for someone apparently."

"You've done what?" Eric seethed, his face flushing. He was extremely distrusting of strangers.

"Oh, don't be so grumpy, Scrooge." Faith flipped her hand, pouring tea into two mugs.

"You don't know anything about her! She could be anyone!"

"She's just a lass whose lost. I think we can spare her a cuppa?"

Faith bustled back into the lounge.

"There y'are," she set the tea down, perching on the edge of the sofa, "now, yer gonna tell me t'truth?"

Jean took a few sips of the golden liquid and nodded.
"Faith! What did I say..." Eric stumbled at the sight of Jean. "Good Lord..."

"What? Was is it?" Faith demanded impatiently.

"Good Lord, it can't be..." Eric repeated, peering at Jean's face, "but it is, isn't it?"

"Who? What?" Faith persisted, as Eric moved closer to Jean.

"Zoe." He sighed deeply. "The image of your mother."

"Thank you." Jean replied shyly.

"Who is she? Who are you, love?"

"Jean Tate." Eric clarified, sensing Jean's anxiety. Her hands were stuck to her mug.

"Tate? You don't mean...another one?"

"Not Joe's father, no." Eric answered.

"And they say Dingles breed like rabbits..." Faith sighed, "so, whst brings you here?"

"I'm looking for Joe." Jean admitted, as Eric took the seat opposite.

"Looking for Joe, eh? Good luck with that! Our Debbie in't seen 'ide nor 'air o'him since he jilted her at t'altar!"

Jean's head snapped toward Eric.

"Joe was getting married?" Her dark eyes widened.

"Oh, aye. S'posedly, anyhow. Told her he loved her...and disappeared." Faith shook her head, "left her 'eartbroken."

"Faith, perhaps I can explain..." Eric interjected, but Faith was well into her stride; huffing along like a train.

"What is there to explain? Eh? Lad went off without a care in t'world. Never tellin' anyone owt. He's best off gone, cos believe me, he steps one foot back in sight of our Cain and he'll kill him!"

"Faith! A moment, if you please!" Eric held up his hand.
Faith stood up and turned away.

"Joe wouldn't hurt anyone." Jean began, "he must have had a reason..." she reflected on what Graham had said.

"I can't give you an answer on that." Eric admitted, "but what I will say is that a lot has happened since your cousin's arrival. Not all of it complimentary."

"Humph!" Agreed Faith, "he pretended to love our Debbie, give her a future wi" t'kiddies in a big house, lots o'money...then he ripped it from under her. Twice. Always said he were a bad'un and I didn't even know t'full story til our Charity..."

Eric's face fell into his hand.

"Charity?" Jean's face perked up with interest, "you don't mean..." she glanced at Eric.

"Well done, Faith!" Eric reprimanded sarcastically, "Charity still lives here, yes. Your mother..."

Jean pursed her lips.

"Yes, she mentioned her."

"I see." Eric leaned forward, "so you were coming to see Joe for Christmas; I take it?"

Jean nodded.

"Ah."

Despite his grumpiness, he seemed far friendlier than Graham, Jean thought to herself.

"You've been up to Home Farm then?"

"Yes. I got...thrown out."

"By the butler? Dunt surprise me, bleedin' drunk last time. Either that or he's playin up to Madam Queen Bee herself."

"Queen Bee?'

"Yes," Eric began awkwardly in a gruff voice, "Kim Tate."

Jean clutched the sofa.

"Yeah. Graham mentioned her. He said Home Farm belongs to her. But its Joe's." She paused, "isn't it?"

"I don't know the finer details of your family, young lady, but I knew your mother and I can say with absolute certainty that she was the most decent one of that family. Whereas Kim Tate clawed her way up, destroying everything in her path."

"Graham said that Kim bailed Joe out." Jean sighed, setting her mug down, "but I don't believe it. I just don't. Joe wouldn't just vanish, either. I know him."

"We all thought we knew him!" Faith retorted, "but he were lyin' to us t'whole time! Yer just like our Debbie, clingin' on."

"That's enough. Faith, perhaps you could check with Diane as to availability at the B&B so that we can find Miss Tate somewhere to stay tonight?"

"Miss Tate, eh?" Faith scorned, "if she's anythin' like that spoiled rat, ooh! I could just swing for 'im!" She huffed as she went to the phone.

"You don't have to help me." Jean told Eric.

"On the contrary, I'd be doing your mother a disservice if I didn't. I suppose she knows you are here?"

Jean swallowed, uncomfortable.

"Not exactly."

"I see." Eric nodded knowledgeably, pushing on his knees to stand up with a groan, "well...as Faith has said, no one has seen Joe since October. By all accounts he left without a word to Debbie."

"Debbie?"

"Debbie Dingle. Local girl." Eric explained, pacing, "I'm afraid the Tate name isn't popular around here at the moment."

Eric, concerned at Jean's lack of response, took a moment to reflect.

"How is your mother?"

"Fine. She's fine." Jean replied, an edge to her tone that was familiar to Eric. He knew the habits of the Tates well enough to know that Jean's response implied that whatever was happening was a secret and therefore best left alone.

He was about to continue when Faith reappeared.

"No room at the inn." She declared, huffily.

"I did wonder." Eric acknowledged, "well, I suppose you'll have to put up with us."

Jean looked up at him, stunned.

"What? Keep her here? She's one of them!"

"We can't throw a child out on Christmas Eve, Faith." Eric snapped, "we have a spare room."

"In a Barn. How ironic." Faith observed, "well? On your own head, be it." She held up her hands, walking away.

"Don't worry, she'll come around." Eric assured Jean, "you can stay here until we can get things settled. Is there anyone I should call? Your mother, perhaps?"

"No! No..." Jean retracted quickly, "time difference. You'll wake her up."

"Of course. I didn't think...where is it you are living?"

"New Zealand."

"I thought I recognised the accent." Eric agreed pompously, sitting next to her, "Faith is very loyal to her family. Unfortunately after what happened with Joe, things have taken a turn for the worse for the whole family. Your arrival has just reminded her of the enormity of the situation."

"She's a Dingle too?"

"Yes, she is. Some would say the matriarch. It has been a hard year for them." He paused, standing up, "anyway, such is the way of things."

He crossed the carpet.

"I don't suppose Graham mentioned an Aston Martin by any chance?"

"No."

"Pity. Ah well, mustn't dwell on lost opportunities." He glanced around, "where is your luggage?"

"I had it...at Home Farm. I must have left it there." She realised, horrified.

"Ah. Not to worry. We'll arrange to get it back for you."

"Graham told me to get out. He won't want to see me."

Eric tilted his head.

"Perhaps? We can but try." He told the girl, still astonished by her resemblance to Zoe.

"Its not a good idea. He was really angry."

"Nevertheless; you cannot go without your luggage. Leave it to me. I'll see Mr Foster myself. Faith will help you settle in."

He picked up his coat.

"Faith!" He cried and Faith returned to the lounge.

"Yer goin' out?"

"Miss Tate has left her luggage at Home Farm in her haste to leave. I am going to collect it for her."

"Fetchin' n'carryin already?" Faith scorned, folding her arms, "never thought you'd be one to bow and scrape, Eric Pollard."

"I told him to leave it," Jean interrupted. "He doesn't have to. I don't want any trouble."

"Ha! Tell that to our Debbie. Our Sarah, our Jack! Left wi'nowt."

"But that's not my fault. I didn't do it."

Faith took a moment to digest this and relented.

"I forget meself. No, it in't your fault, lass. I know that. Deep down I do. But seeing you 'ere..."

"Its like Joe all over again, right?"

"I'll um...go and get the case." Eric advised, closing the door.

"Thanks!" Jean called out.

"So your mother," Faith continued.

"Mummy is Joe's aunt."

"Ah, so nowt to do wi'our Charity."

Jean twisted her mouth.

"Er..."

"Don't worry, lass. We'll keep yer 'ere til yer find out what's goin' on with that cousin o'yours. But I tell yer, yer'd better hope no one else finds him first." Faith warned darkly, suggesting that Joe had left a legacy worthy of the family name, however tainted.

"Joe wouldn't run away." Jean told her decisively, as Faith picked up some keys and led her to a spare room upstairs, "he wouldn't."

Faith sighed.

"Well, he has. Since October. But you'll be pleased to know her Royal Highness is back inside too."

"Kim is in prison?"

"From what I 'eard, yes. Now, make yerself at home. Eric'll be back soon, so you just sit tight til 'e gets back. We'll prob'ly pop up t'pub, if you want to join us?"

"I'd like that. Thank you."

"Well, I'll say one thing," Faith adjusted the curtains, "yer got better manners than that cousin o'yours."

"Thanks."

As Faith rattled on about the party that had been held at Home Farm, Jean found herself zoning out, completely immersed in her memory.

"You are not going to see him. I've told you."

"Mum, I have to."

"No, you don't. Let's leave it at that please. I have such a headache."

"Mum? Mum?"

"You okay, love?" Faith cut into her daze, leaning toward her, taking her cold hand.

"I'd better go up to bed." Jean offered, "feeling tired."

"O'course. You go on up, 'ave a nap." Faith suggested, "you'll feel better for it."

Jean nodded, dragging her exhausted frame up the stairs to the little room that Faith had made up for her. It was light and airy with a small cottage style window framed by plaid curtains, a little chest of drawers upon which was propped a mirror and some essentials and a very comfortable wrought iron bed with a patchwork cover.

"Make yerself at 'ome." Faith told her, as Jean perched on it, unsure.

"Thank you," she mustered.

"Aye, its nowt. Sweet dreams then." Faith told her with a fond smile that confirmed that she was familiar with how to manage children. She had mentioned a granddaughter too, Jean recalled. Sarah. She sniffed loudly, waiting until Faith had left before sinking into the cover and sobbing silently.