‘I would like a new art set and a yellow scrunchie for my hair, and a new doll that cries and a doll’s house, and new clothes for my doll. And I would like a big chocolate and a purple bicycle and a witch’s hat and a—’

‘Dear God,’ He whispered as Rosie recited her list of wants. ‘How the hell am I supposed to remember any of that?’

‘It’s mostly the same as she put in her letter.’ Moira patted his arm.

Gus watched Rosie and in his baby daughter’s sweet face, he caught traces of the woman he’d loved, who gave him his kids, a family, this village. Rosie had Kate’s mouth, her direct approach, her inability to bullshit. So what led her to lie to him, to her having an affair? For the first time, he found he could ask the question without seething. It had been such a busy year, and they’d both been juggling babies and their businesses, her more than him. Did she feel unseen? Unappreciated? Had she felt hemmed in, did she feel like her life had just stopped when the twins came along?

Did the why still matter?

Gus jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his thoughts miles away. He couldn’t change the past, and being angry with her, still feeling cheated was the equivalent of beating yourself after the horse bolted. It was time to stop remembering Kate for what she did in that hotel room, and remembering her, and still loving her, for being a brilliant mum, a loving daughter and the Boss Girl of the village.

As old-fashioned as it sounded, he needed to forgive her…

‘—and I want a unicorn that poops rainbows,’ Rosie emphatically declared.

Sutton tipped her head to look up at him. ‘Fair. Because a unicorn isn’t a unicorn unless it poops rainbows,’ she whispered.

He snort-laughed.

‘Why don’t we give your brother a chance—’ Santa suggested.

Nope, Rosie was on a roll, and she clapped her hands together and looked to the heavens, an angelic little girl who could feature on old-fashioned greeting cards.Oh, Kate, look at your warrior daughter and your stunning son. We did that.‘I want an elf.’

Santa’s bewilderment increased. ‘An elf? One ofmyelves?’

Rosie patted his cheek. ‘Do you need a nap?’

She’s all you, Katie.‘Uh…no?’ Santa replied.

‘Then keep up! I want an elf, a nice one, who can live in my cupboard or under my bed. He can be my friend and do what I say, all the time. And if things don’t work out, I’ll give him back to you next year.’

Sutton slapped her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. Gus put his hand over his eyes. Only Rosie could come up with something like that.She’s your daughter, Kate.

‘Noted. I’ll have to think about that.’

Rose pouted. ‘That’s what Daddy says and then he always says no.’

Accurate. It was his go-to phrase when he needed them to shut-the-fuck-up. Thankfully, Santa turned his attention to Felix, who was still wide-eyed with stage fright. ‘And what do you want for Christmas, Felix?’ he asked. Santa pushed his shoulders back, obviously expecting the same barrage of demands he received from his twin.

Gus raised his eyebrows. If he asked for a shark or an octopus, as he did earlier, Santa might lose it.

Felix’s eyes widened with anxiety, and Gus mentally urged him to find his words. Rosie started to speak for him, but Santa shushed her. ‘I asked Felix, Rosie.’

Gus nodded his approval. He knew Rosie spoke for Felix far too often. Felix looked at him and Gus smiled. ‘It’s okay, Fee, you can tell him,’ Gus encouraged him, jamming his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and hunching his shoulders.

Felix leaned into Santa’s shoulder and placed his mouth near Santa’s ear. They all strained to hear him, including Rosie, but his words were too low. When he pulled back, Santa frowned at Gus. What the hell did he do?

Santa patted Felix on the back, gave a couple of muted ‘hohoho’s’ and told Tired Elf he was taking a break. The twins ran over to Moira, and over their heads, Gus saw Santa jerk his head.

‘You’re on his naughty list,’ Sutton said, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow. Excellent. What the hell did Felix say?

Gus told them he’d be back and walked away to join Santa behind the black fabric. He was back in five minutes, feeling bemused and, God, so exhausted. Gus looked down at Felix. ‘What did you ask Santa for, Felix?’

‘I asked him for bread, peanut butter and jam,’ Felix replied, his attention caught by a clown on stilts. ‘I want to try that!’

‘Over my dead body! ‘Moira retorted, equally puzzled. ‘Why on earth did you ask Santa for food, Fee?’

Felix looked at her as if she were daft. ‘Because I like bread, peanut butter and jam,’ Felix replied, bored of the topic. ‘And if I have my own, then I can eat it whenever I want.’