Back at the house, Christmas had exploded in Charlie's living room. A traditional fire was roaring, Mary's Boy Child was on the TV and there were presents everywhere. Robyn, bedecked in a dress that brought to mind a fully decorated Christmas Tree, was pacing the floor, champagne flute in hand and continually checking her watch; a pensive expression on her face.

When she spotted Charlie her face broke into a beam, "There you are! I'm so glad you're back, I'm so excited to wake Charlotte up. Where have you..." the words died on her lips as she spotted Connie behind him, somehow seeming so much smaller and less formidable than her normal self, as if hiding in his shadow. To her credit though, Robyn did him proud, giving him a knowing nod, smiling at Connie kindly and ushering her into the warm glow of the living room, before furnishing her with a glass of Bucks Fizz then disappearing off excitedly to bring her daughter downstairs to get the all important Santa based proceedings underway.

Whilst they were waiting for them, Charlie sat beside Connie on the sofa, watching her as she gripped her glass tightly, looking as tense in that moment as she had done in her office. It did nothing to quell the concern he felt for her, although he was glad that she was in his home where he could give her the support she needed.

"Robyn and Charlotte are in my support bubble." He explained, as much as to break into the continued silence as anything else. She nodded, but in the first instance said nothing, although after a few seconds, and with a shadow of concern on her face, she finally spoke.

"No one else is coming today are they?"

On the surface her words could have been a casual enquiry as to whether he was planning on sticking to the government guidelines, or if anything more just an indicator that she didn't feel up to dealing with an extended crowd, but he knew her better. He knew what she was asking.

"We're not expecting Jacob." He said gently, "I wouldn't blind side you like that. It's just going to be the four of us."

She actually smiled then, her relief clear. He'd have liked to have had the opportunity to discuss the issue further, but before he could Charlotte came flying down the stairs, full of excitement, and the moment passed.

All the same, he watched her carefully whilst the grand present unwrapping took place. Unlike Charlotte, whose enthusiasm was more than a little vocal, Connie said very little, although it was clear she was making an effort to take an interest in the youngster's gifts, paying attention to what was being unwrapped as she sat quietly sipping her Bucks Fizz.

It was only as Charlotte unwrapped her final Santa gift, a set from the Disney Store containing Snow White and the Seven Dwarves that she seemed to come to life, speaking to the little girl for the first time.

"What a lovely present." She said, unprompted, surprising both Charlie, and presumably from the look on her face, Robyn too. It was an incongruous response given her behaviour to that point, but when she spoke again the reasons for it became clear. "My big girl used to love Snow White. She was always her favourite Disney Princess... when she was little."

Robyn seized on this, speaking before Charlie could, taking the conversation in what seemed like a natural direction, "How is Grace, Connie?" But at her words, Connie's eyes clouded, and she just shrugged, disappearing back into herself again.

A wordless exchange took place across the room, with Robyn appearing as concerned about Connie as Charlie was. After a few moments, Robyn got to her feet, announcing she was going to peel potatoes, a gesture Charlie presumed was to give him and Connie chance to talk. Robyn hadn't even made it to the door however when Connie stopped her.

"Let me. You should be playing with Charlotte, and anyway," She said, before adding, much to Charlie's surprise, "I like to cook."

xxx

It was only once they were settled in the kitchen, and she had busied herself with the potatoes that he called her words into question, bemused that a women once reliant on caterers, takeaways and Waitrose ready meals had suddenly discovered a love of food preparation. She smiled wistfully when he mentioned it, but didn't look up from the task at hand as she answered.

"Jacob taught me. During the first lockdown."

It was the in he needed, but he didn't want to go in too strong and risk her clamming up again so kept his tone light.

"Is that right? So are you a Master Chef now?"

She laughed in response, "I think that would be pushing it a little, but I'm no longer completely helpless." Finally she lifted her gaze to meet his, looking eager to please, and in many ways quite unlike herself, "And I'm especially good at gravy."

"Then you've got yourself a job." He said, smiling back at her, "Because I was just planning on using Bisto." It wasn't quite true. He'd bought some fancy ready made stuff from Sainsbury's, but that could easily disappear into the freezer. Anything to encourage her and lift her mood.

She nodded and continued with the potatoes, only speaking again when she'd finished, and had glanced at her watch. "What time are we eating?"

"I thought 2." Charlie replied, checking the time on his own watch. It was still only a little after 9. He looked at Connie again. She was more engaged, but there was still no getting away from how tired she looked, and he knew that at the very least she wouldn't have slept since the morning before. "We have plenty of time." He said gently, "Would you like to rest? I've made up the spare room."

She hesitated, and he wondered if he'd have to order her to bed like an over protective father, but in the end she nodded, although clearly felt awkward about it. "Would you mind? Just for an hour or so. I don't want to be antisocial." He brushed the very suggestion away and led her upstairs to the spare room, showing her inside where he'd left a pair of Duffy's pyjamas on the bed for her. When she spotted them, her surprise was obvious,

"These are Duffy's" she murmured, eyeing him with concern, "Are you sure?"

He was. Twelve months ago he'd have found the idea of anyone using Duffy's things hard, and in her case, completely unbearable, but time had passed, the grief had dulled, and with their once fractured relationship having gradually repaired itself, he was happy for her to wear them. Anything to aide her in feeling comfortable and being able to get some rest.

"It's fine." He reassured her, "You just get some sleep."