Warning: Episode may contain strong language, violence and sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

PREVIOUSLY ON GLENDALE…

• Following the reveal of his affair with Lee, Tom took his life, leaving his wife and family bereft.
• After Tom’s death and the collapse of his marriage to Jack, Lee left the village to start a new life in Manchester.
• Natalie and James embarked on an affair while she was blackmailing his wife, Julia. When James learnt of Natalie’s evildoings, he ended the relationship. But, in one final twist, Natalie released a cache of screenshots and videos on Facebook, revealing their affair to the world and shattering Julia’s perfect world.
• Following the revelation that new village GP Emma was his biological mother, Nick was lucky to survive a car accident. He was stunned to later learn that his late uncle, Michael, was in fact Emma’s former boyfriend and his biological father. However, while recovering in the hospital, his world was rocked once again when an ancestry DNA test revealed a match with his true biological father.
• A changed and reckless Nick started an affair with Natalie. He eventually ended his engagement to Jasmine and married Natalie, leaving his family horrified.
• After falling pregnant to James after a one-night stand, Neha drunkenly attacked her husband, Ashwin, and was later arrested and imprisoned. Later, Ashwin collapsed, leaving him fighting for life.
• After Neha slapped her six-year-old daughter, Poppy, Rebecca vowed revenge and called in a favour to have Neha attacked while in prison.
• Queenie confided in Emma that she had a daughter she was forced to give up at birth, before deciding she wanted to find her “baby Gail”.
• Mark stumbled across a folder of old photos revealing that his wife, Charlotte, was once involved romantically with Michael – the man who caused the death of Mark’s first wife, Jennifer – and their marriage collapsed, ending in divorce.
• Luke was released from prison after 16 years. He returned to Glendale in a bid to seek revenge on those who had helped to send him down.
• It was revealed that Ed had a secret family in London, and in the final moments of season one, his secret daughter, Samantha, turned up in Glendale with her husband and daughter, much to Ed’s horror and Marion’s disbelief. The young family eventually decided to move to Glendale.

AND NOW, THE CHRISTMAS SPECIALS OF GLENDALE BEGIN…

At Christmas, all roads lead home.
Marjorie Holmes

20 December 2025

Glendale,
Kent, England

With just five days until Christmas, Glendale looked as though it had been plucked straight from the front of a Christmas card. Along the eaves of the cottages that lined the village green, Christmas lights blinked and twinkled, while wreaths hung from every door. Some, like the one at Greenview Cottage, were neat, symmetrical and clearly purchased from John Lewis, while others, like the one that hung on the door of Rose Cottage B&B, were a handmade jumble of holly, tinsel, and mismatched baubles.

At The Oak & Vine, an oversized plastic Father Christmas partially obscured the Correx FOR SALE sign, which sported a garish red SOLD! sticker. Haphazardly fastened to the wall with fishing wire, it had been a tradition for the big man to be seen scaling the building since Tony Kennedy inherited the pub back in 1986.

Queen Victoria Street glowed with the golden light that shone out through the pub windows, and the sound of “Jingle Bell Rock” and laughter from inside carried on the chilly breeze that blew in off the River Medway. The winds of change were swirling around the village.

It hadn’t snowed yet, although everyone felt as if it might. The grass of the village green was glassy with frost, while the cold air nipped just enough to make one’s red nose run. At the southern end stood a towering Christmas tree. At least twenty feet tall, the Norway spruce was festooned with metres and metres of ribbon chains – handmade by the Women’s Institute since July – and baubles of every shape and size that glittered against the fairy lights.

It was magical. It was beautiful. It was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

All at once, the tree, the pub and the Christmas lights blinked off, plunging Glendale into complete darkness.

The Oak & Vine,
Glendale

When the lights went out and the music died, a collective groan rippled around the patrons. It wasn’t the first time Glendale had been plunged into darkness in December, and they knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Brian Granger grumbled before taking a long swig of his lager. “Happens every bloody year!”

“It won’t last long,” Pamela reassured her husband, although she secretly hoped it did. The darkness hid the bruise on the side of her cheek – the one Brian had put there earlier in the day.

“No need to panic,” Carol Kennedy called out to the pub full of punters, giving her best Annie Walker impression through gritted teeth and a painted-on smile as she stood behind the bar, beneath a large handmade banner that simply said: GOODBYE & GOOD LUCK! “We’ll have it sorted in a mo.”

It wasn’t the most convenient evening for a blackout, as she was in the middle of showing the ropes to the pub’s soon-to-be new owners, Tess and Johnny Montgomery. In their late 40s, the couple were upping sticks from Nottingham and moving south to escape some “troubles” and seek out a “quieter, safer life.” Their family – 17-year-old twins Hannah and Finn, 24-year-old Jude, and Johnny’s 86-year-old father, Ted – were joining them, while 21-year-old daughter, Megan, would remain at university in Oxford. They hadn’t intended to buy another pub – Johnny had grown up in the trade, while Tess had fallen into it after marrying into the family – but when they saw the FOR SALE sign on The Oak & Vine while passing through a few weeks earlier, they soon realised that Glendale was to be their new home.

“I’m sorry about this,” Carol said, proffering the pair a placating smile and wondering where the hell her husband had got to. “Jonny, would you be a dear and get the tea candles from the barrel store? There’s a box behind the gin.” While the new landlord followed orders, Carol’s gaze moved to Tess, and she gave another rictus smile to mask her wobbles. “Welcome to Glendale!”

-:-

At a table near the hearth, Jack Campbell sat with Reverend Matthew Turner. With their drinks nearly finished – a larger for Jack and a ginger ale for the vicar – the two men had been deep in quiet conversation when the lights had gone out.

“Well,” Reverend Turner said, casting an eye around the bar as he watched Johnny and Tess follow Carol’s orders and begin to scatter lit tea candles here, there and everywhere. “Divine intervention?”

Jack chuckled, running a hand through his dark hair. “More like the start of a crime spree.”

“I prefer the former, thank you.” the vicar smiled, and his eyes seemed to twinkle in the candlelight.

For a year now, the pair had been growing closer, developing a strong friendship that they both cherished. While Jack – the heathen that he was – still didn’t attend Sunday service, he had been spending more of his quiet moments in the church, reflecting and contemplating with Matthew’s encouragement. But beneath the surface, attraction bubbled.

Jack spoke without thinking. “You smell good tonight.” His eyes widened as he realised how it sounded. “I mean, not that you don’t normally smell good. I don’t always smell you. I mean, I don’t smell you at all. But the times that I have smelt you, you don’t stink… in a bad way, I mean… I’m just gonna shut up now.”

Matthew laughed and looked down, his cheeks pinking. “Thanks… I think?” His mouth smirked in a way that caught Jack’s attention. “It’ll be the incense. We had some of the kids in earlier, decorating the tree for the Christmas Eve carols. It was complete chaos.”

“Sounds… fun.”

“It was. Everyone seems excited.” Matthew looked back at Jack. “You should come.”

Jack smiled, and for a moment there was a warmth between them that had nothing to do with the fire. “Sure. Wouldn’t miss it.” He slapped his hands against his thighs and moved to get up. “Drink?”

Matthew nodded. “Thanks. A shandy, please.”

Standing, Jack frowned and shook his head in disbelief. “Sometimes I genuinely wonder how we’re friends.”

Neither of them noticed the way Audrey Granger watched them from afar. She caught the looks between them and smiled to herself. She had seen more budding romances than she cared to count and immediately sensed something waiting to happen. Despite the fact Matthew was a vicar, there was an obvious spark between the two men that warmed her heart and reminded her that Christmas really was the most magical time of the year.

-:-

At one of the long tables in the centre of the pub was the Atkins family. Ed sat at the head of the table, carving at what remained of his steak, while beside him sat his wife, Marion, herself finishing off a cottage pie. Jasmine sat next to her, while across from them were Samantha, her husband, Lewis, and their eight-year-old, Gracie. Having finished his baked salmon, Lewis draped one arm along the back of Samantha’s chair as he watched and waited for his wife’s family to finish their meals.

“Trust the lights to go just when I was about to order another,” said Ed, holding up his empty glass like Oliver Twist begging for more.

“I’ll get you one when they’re back on,” Marion replied with a slight sharpness to her tone. They had tried to patch over the problems in the marriage, but the scars of deceit remained, and this was now their new normal. Although for how much longer they could carry on like this, she didn’t know. “Besides, you’ve had two already.”

“Two’s nothing on a cold night like this,” he replied. “The snow’ll be here by morning, mark my words.”

Marion didn’t reply. She couldn’t be bothered to. Instead, she returned her attention to her dinner, briefly catching Samantha’s sympathetic smile as she did.

“So, Jaz,” Lewis began, looking across the table towards his younger sister-in-law. “I hear you might be leaving us?”

Jasmine, dabbing the corners of her mouth with her Christmas-red linen napkin, nodded with a raised brow. “Fingers crossed,” she replied, not realising how horrible it sounded. “I should hear back by Christmas Eve whether I’ve got it or not.”

Marion’s heart broke. The thought of her daughter moving to Australia killed her. It was so far away. What about the snakes? What about the sharks? What about the serial killers? What about the heat? She had watched enough cheap documentaries on Channel 5 to know that it was dangerous down under. It wasn’t a former convict colony for no reason! What about those bears that fell out of trees onto your head and attacked you while you were walking? Horrifying! She couldn’t help but let out a deep, audible huff.

Jasmine understood her mother’s concerns, but the opportunity to teach at one of Sydney’s elite private schools was simply too good to pass up. “Oh, Mum.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that far.”

“Not that far?” Marion practically fell off her chair. “Not that far? Brighton’s not that far, Jasmine. Sydney’s practically on another planet!”

“You’re overdramatising it.”

“And you’re running away from Nick and Natalie.”

There it was. The ugly truth that no one wanted to acknowledge. When her former fiancée Nick Harrington-Jones had dumped her for his father’s ex-mistress, Natalie Sinclair, no one had thought it would last. However, they had now been married for nine months, and living in the same village as her ex and the woman who stole him from her was simply becoming too much for Jasmine to bear.

“Well,” Lewis began, quickly changing subject and offering her one of his usual, knee-buckling smiles, “you’ll be missed.”

Samantha was watching them both, and her brow faintly furrowed. With a sixth sense for picking up on social cues, she had noticed a weird energy around the table all night. While she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, there was just something about the way her husband and half-sister interacted that gave her cause for alarm.

“I’ll get you a drink, Dad,” Samantha said, scraping her chair across the floorboards as she slid it back and stood up. “Marion, can you help me, please?”

The invitation caught her stepmother by surprise, but Marion obligingly nodded and followed her to the bar. As they waited to be served in the dim candlelight, the two women stood side by side, Samantha too scared to say what she was feeling and Marion too apprehensive to ask.

“Can I ask you something?” Samantha finally said, breaking the silence and glancing quickly at her stepmother before returning her attention to the bar and nervously fiddling with a beer mat.

Marion didn’t need to say anything for Samantha to know she could.

“Do you think there’s anything going on between Lewis and Jasmine?”

“What?” The question caught Marion off guard, and she felt her brow involuntarily tighten and frown as she whipped her head in Samantha’s direction. “Lewis and Jasmine? No. Of course not.”

“Are you sure?”

Marion let out a deep exhale and turned her body towards the young woman. “Samantha, I promise you,” she said in a way that made her stepdaughter look back at her. “There is nothing going on between Lewis and Jasmine. Jaz wouldn’t do that. Not to you.”

A silence stretched, and Marion could see how downcast Samantha was.

“Is there something wrong between you?”

Samantha was silent, unable to meet Marion’s gaze.

“I know you’ve had… pressures since moving to the village, but you don’t really think that means he’s having an affair, do you?”

“No,” Samantha said, shaking her head, although she didn’t fully mean it. “I just… you know I’m a good judge of character, and I… I can just feel that something is off.” She looked back at Marion, and her eyes suddenly became glassy with tears. “I don’t know what or how, but something just isn’t right, Marion, and I’m thinking the worst.”

Marion looked at her stepdaughter with a reassuring smile and patted her hand in sympathy. “Just talk to him,” she said, offering the golden piece of advice she herself hadn’t followed in her own marriage. “I’m certain you’re just chasing shadows in the dark, but talk to him, Sam. If it is worrying you that much, then all you can do is talk.”

-:-

Jack returned to the table, carrying two glasses. He set down a shandy in front of Matthew and a pint of lager for himself. “Still can’t believe you’re a Cadbury,” he said with a grin and a shake of his head, referencing the famous “glass and a half” slogan of the chocolate brand.

“If it’s not communal wine, then it goes straight to my head,” Matthew replied with a wry smile that caused Jack’s heart to flutter. It was true. Anything more than a glass and a half of booze and he was anyone’s, so to speak. “So, seeing as we have to entertain ourselves, tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Like what?” Jack took a long gulp of his golden lager.

“I dunno, something that will shock me.”

“You’re a vicar; everything shocks you.” Satisfied at his own joke, Jack snuffled in a way that elicited a roll of Matthew’s eyes and a shake of his head. “Okay, well, how about this? My dad’s a vicar too.”

Matthew frowned heavily, and you could’ve knocked him off his chair with a feather. “What?”

“My dad’s a vicar,” Jack repeated, swallowing another gulp before returning his beer to the table.

“What? How do I not know this?”

“Because you’ve never asked. It’s not something I talk about really.”

“Your dad’s a vicar?” Matthew still couldn’t quite believe it. “As in an actual proper dog collar-wearing representative of God, Vicar?”

“Yes!” Jack chuckled and smiled in a way that seemed to only enhance his handsomeness in the candlelight. “Reverend Philip Campbell. He’s got a parish in the Midlands now, apparently. Do you know him?”

Matthew realised he was slack-jawed and closed his mouth before shifting in his seat, shaking his head. “No.” He clocked the “apparently” but didn’t want to press further just yet. “I can’t believe you’ve never told me.”

Jack shrugged. “Well, it’s not something that you shout about, is it?”

“And he’s in the Midlands?”

“Yeah, West Midlands. Some little town out near Coventry apparently.”

There it was again. Matthew couldn’t quell his rising curiosity any longer. “Apparently?” he asked, lifting the glass to his mouth and taking a sip.

The air between them shifted ever so slightly, and Jack gazed at his glass, tracing the rim with his index finger as memories swirled in his head. “I haven’t spoken to him for, ooh, God, maybe over fifteen or so years.” His eyes immediately widened as he realised his mistake at taking the lord’s name in vain in front of a vicar. “Sorry, heathen habits and all that.”

Matthew brushed it aside with a flick of his hand and a reassuring smile. He’d heard far worse. “So, you’ve actually not spoken in all that time?” He worried that the question might’ve been too personal, but he couldn’t help but probe further. He was suddenly invested, intrigued as to what had obviously caused a rift between his friend and his family. “Why? If you don’t mind me asking?”

Jack glanced back at him briefly. “Well, having a son who is gay isn’t exactly a winning ticket in the vicar lottery, is it?”

The vicar shifted in his seat. If only he knew. “I’m sure he still loves you.”

Jack shook his head, immediately dispelling the suggestion. He knew for a fact his parents didn’t love him. They had said so to his face. “Disgusted” and “ashamed” were two of the words he so vividly remembered, along with the fact that he “was going to hell” and was “no son of theirs”. He shuddered at the homophobic slurs that had also been hurled his way.

“He’s a vicar with a gay son,” Jack replied, trying to mask the emotion from his voice but failing terribly. “You and I both know how much he loves me. But, at the end of the day, he’s just following the church’s teachings, I guess. The good ol’ C of E has never been that progressive when it comes to the gays.”

Matthew shifted again. He wanted to tell Jack the truth, to hug him and tell him he understood completely and wholeheartedly how he felt because he was a gay vicar. But he couldn’t. Years of denial had seen him seal that secret away in a firmly shut closet. “No,” was all he could muster before taking another sip of his shandy. “I guess not.”

-:-

At their usual table, the Granger family finished their dinner by candlelight.

“Right,” said Brian, patting his stomach with exaggerated drama. “That’s me stuffed. Let’s get going.”

Pamela looked at the unfinished salmon on her plate. “But I’ve still got—”

“We’re going, Pam.” The death glare fired in her direction left no room for rebuttal. “Now.”

Across the table, Emma Blake bit her tongue. Over the last twelve months she had noticed some of the bruises Pamela tried to keep hidden and had witnessed firsthand the way Brian gaslit her. She had tried to broach the subject with her boyfriend’s mother, but every time her concerns had been shooed away. She walked into a door. She’s clumsy. She tripped. She woke up with it. She bruises at the slightest knock. He doesn’t mean what he says. He’s just grumpy. Really, she’s fine. Emma knew every single one was a lie.

“Lovely meal, Carol!” Pamela said to her sister-in-law as she came over, shadowed by Tess.

“Thank you, Pam. Sorry about the lights!”

“Oh, it’s no bother.” She brushed away the apology and gave a smile, trying not to wince when her bruised cheek moved. “Seems to be a tradition at this time of year now.”

Carol smiled and collected the empty plates. “Have you all met Tess? She and her hubby Johnny are the ones that have bought this place.”

“Yes,” Pamela smiled at the new landlady and gave a soft nod of her head. “We had a little chat earlier.”

“You introduced us all,” Tess added.

“Oh.” Carol frowned. It had clearly slipped her mind. “What am I like?!”

“You’ve a lot going on,” Audrey said reassuringly as she patted her daughter’s arm.

“It was Brian and Patricia,” Tess said, somewhat unsure, trying hard to put a name to a face.

“Pamela.”

“Same difference,” Carol replied with a laugh.

“Come on!” Brian grumbled as he pulled on his thick coat and was already halfway out the door.

Pamela and Emma exchanged a glance, and they knew exactly what the other was thinking. Carol also knew what her brother was like and fired him a glare before making her goodbyes and heading back to the bar with Tess in tow.

Without further hesitation, Emma helped Oliver and Poppy into their coats before fastening her own. The two seven-year-olds – giddy on sugar and the excitement of the season – hurried out of the pub as they chattered away about what refreshments to leave out for Father Christmas in a few nights and tried to guess what gifts he would leave.

“You go on ahead,” Ben Granger said, helping his grandmother, Audrey, into her vintage tweed coat. “We’ll catch you up.”

Audrey gave him a look over her shoulder as she buttoned the buttons before pulling on her tan leather gloves. “I’m not that slow, y’know!”

As the others exited, Ben snuffled, and a bright smile broke across his face. “I know,” he said, offering his arm anyway. “But I’d rather not risk you slipping on the pavement or disappearing into a pothole.”

Audrey huffed but took his arm all the same. They headed out into the night, and Ben lifted his phone before turning on the torch and lighting their path. Audrey tutted and rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.

They crossed the green together in silence, and Ben felt his grandmother’s grip tighten slightly when a fox screamed in the distance.

“You know, you used to chat my ear off on walks like this when you were little.”

Ben looked at his grandmother as they made their way around the pond. “Did I?”

“Oh yes,” Audrey nodded with a sniff as recollections flooded her mind. “I’d take you for a walk in your buggy around the village green, and you’d jibber-jabber away in a language I didn’t understand. You were so inquisitive and always pointing out things with a look of wonder.” She looked at him with a slight smile. “And now look at you! Tall as a Christmas tree and as grumpy as the Grinch!”

Ben laughed at the joke in a way that pleased her immensely. “Well, I’m not always grumpy,” he replied, looking back at the dark path ahead as they neared the far side of the village green. “I feel rather happy nowadays.” There was a beat of a pause. “Actually, I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Oh?”

“I’m going to ask Emma to marry me.”

Audrey stopped in her tracks, and her hand tightened around his arm. “What?”

Ben couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “I’ve been thinking about it for the last couple of months. I know it’s a bit quick, but I dunno, Gran, it just feels right.”

“You’re sure this is the right decision?”

“Absolutely. No one has ever made me feel the way Emma does.” He sighed, and his breath clouded the cold air. “I know there was that wobble at the beginning with Paul and whatnot, but we came back together, and to be honest, Gran, I can’t imagine my life without her in it now.”

Audrey studied her grandson’s face, then, with a decisive little nod, she slipped her hand from his arm and began pulling off one of her gloves.

“Gran—”

“Hush.” She tugged at the fingers of her left glove and pulled it from her hand before slipping a ring from her finger and pressing it into his palm. “Here.”

Ben blinked, astounded at what had just happened. “Gran, this is—”

“My engagement ring, yes,” she said simply. “It’s a family heirloom, that is. Your grandad’s gran gave that to him to give to me, and now I’m giving it to you to give to Emma. Your grandad would want you to have it. I know I do.”

Ben looked at the antique ring. Atop a thin gold band was a large emerald surrounded by twelve modest yet dazzling diamonds. It was elegant, stylish and utterly beautiful.

“Gran, I can’t—”

“Oh, nonsense. Of course you can,” Audrey interrupted firmly. “It’s been sitting on my finger long enough. Now, it deserves to be part of another love story.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then suddenly, with a bright flash, the power came back. One by one, the cottages lit up like a fairytale, the Christmas lights that crisscrossed Queen Victoria Street blinked to life, and the giant Christmas tree glowed a magnificent gold once again.

Ben looked up, and with the ring still sitting in his palm, he watched as Emma walked hand in hand with the twins down the street. Audrey followed his line of sight, smiled, and then looked back at him.

“Well,” she said in a knowing kind of way, “I guess that’s your sign.”

Ben laughed. “Yeah,” he agreed, nodding his head. “I guess it is.”

21 DECEMBER 2025

Greystone Downs,
Glendale

The morning air was sharp with a coldness that took your breath away, and Kate Spencer shivered as she pulled her coat a little tighter around her. Her boots thumped against the flagstone steps as she came in from the farmyard, having tended to the family’s flock of sheep. She shut the door behind her and plonked herself down on the small wooden bench in the mudroom as she removed her shoes.

“Tom! Boots!”

The daily call she barked at her late husband played on repeat every time she sat down to remove her claggy footwear. It had been sixteen months since Tom took his own life, and while the passage of time had seen her move further away from the day that irrevocably changed her life forever, her heart – as always – remained broken.

Inside, the kitchen was warm, and “I Wish it Could Be Christmas Everyday” played on the small digital radio, thanks to Radio 2. The fire crackled, and at the table sat Noah, her youngest, with his tongue clamped between his teeth as he scowled with concentration and wrote something on a piece of paper using a vast array of different coloured pencils.

“Morning, Bubble!” Kate hung up her coat, walked across the room and kissed the top of the seven-year-old’s head. “What are you doing?”

Noah didn’t bother to look up, for he was far too busy. “Writing a letter.”

Kate flicked the kettle on and turned around, folding her arms and leaning back against the kitchen bench as she watched him go about his very serious work. “Oh? And who might that be to?” She already knew the answer. He had been banging on about it for days.

“Father Christmas.”

Knew it. Kate’s smile stretched. “Ah, yes. Very important business.”

Noah shifted his head ever so slightly to side-eye her. It was very important business! Very important business indeed!

“So, what is it this year? Some more Lego?”

“Nope.”

“Another tractor?”

“Mmm-mmm.” He shook his head. “Wrong again.”

“Something to do with KPop Demon Hunters?”

“No! That’s what Harry wants.”

“Right,” Kate nodded and made a mental note as she turned back to make a cup of coffee as the boiled kettle clicked off. “Well, then I’m all out of guesses.”

“I’ll read it to you.”

Noah cleared his throat and held the piece of paper up in front of his face as Kate finished making her cup of coffee, moved across the kitchen and sat opposite him. She propped her elbows on the table and wrapped her hands around the mug, letting the heat seep into her cold fingers.

“Go on then,” she said encouragingly, taking a hit of caffeine and trying to read the backwards words scrawled across the semi-translucent paper. “Let’s hear it.”

“Dear Father Christmas,” Noah began, sounding out each word carefully. “Please, can you make us all happy again? And please, can you make Mummy smile? And please, can you bring Daddy back from heaven?”

Each request was a blow, and Kate felt her heart rip in two. She tried to blink away the tears, not wanting Noah to see her upset, but it felt like trying to hold back the ocean.

“That is all I want for Christmas. Please, Father Christmas. I love you. Love, Noah.” He finished reading the letter, nodded to himself – pleased with his reading efforts – and carefully placed the piece of paper down on the table before looking back at his mother with wide, hopeful eyes. “That’s okay to ask, isn’t it, Mum?”

Kate placed her mug down and reached across the table, taking his hands in hers and rubbing them with her thumbs. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said in her thick Welsh accent. “That was a beautiful letter. But—”

“Father Christmas can do it. He can bring Daddy back from heaven.”

“No, darling,” she replied, shaking her head and blinking hard. “Unfortunately, he can’t. There are some things not even Father Christmas can do.”

Noah frowned, looking down at his letter and suddenly feeling betrayed by the magic of Christmas. “But…” his voice trailed off, and he glanced back up at his mother from beneath the blonde fringe that hung over his brow. “He can make us happy again… right?”

Kate rose and moved around the table to kneel beside him. She cupped his face in her hands and forced herself to smile. “Yes, Bubble,” she said, rubbing his apple cheeks with her thumbs. “Of course he can. Father Christmas will make us smile and be happy again. I’m absolutely certain of it.”

Honeysuckle Cottage,
Glendale

Nick jogged down Riverview Lane on his usual daily run, careful not to lose his footing on the slippery pavement, and his short breaths puffed in the cold air as if he was vaping. As he approached Honeysuckle Cottage, he spotted a familiar silver sedan parked outside with its boot open. Beside it stood Emma, bundled in her thick navy coat and scarf, unloading several bulging shopping bags.

Nick slowed as he approached. “Morning!”

“Christ!” Emma almost dropped everything as she jumped a mile into the air and quickly spun on her heels. “Nick! You scared me half to death.”

“Sorry.” He slowed to a stop beside her and pressed his hands into his hips, sucking in deep gulps of cold air that was so sharp it hurt. “You know, it’s not really a secret if there’s a reindeer teddy sticking out.” He nodded to the Hamleys bag.

Emma gave an exaggerated sigh and tried to push the toy back down. “And here I was thinking Hilda and the local busybody brigade wouldn’t make their rounds until noon.”

“I’m not a busybody,” Nick said, smirking. “Just a concerned citizen. And I’m a bit old for toys.”

“Oh, hush,” she replied, shaking her head but smiling. “They’re for the twins. You’ve got something much more adult.”

“Such as?”

“A Waterstones gift card.”

“Thrilling,” Nick replied with an overexaggerated roll of his eyes. “Here, let me help you.” He stepped forward and relieved his biological mother of several bags before she had a chance to object.

They walked the short stone path to the house, and Nick waited to the side as Emma unlocked the front door. Inside, the air was thankfully warmer and smelt of pine needles and sandalwood air freshener, while a scattering of half-packed removal boxes littered the living room and kitchen in preparation for her big move to Glenbrook Farm in January.

“Decided what you’re doing with this place yet?”

“Not fully,” Emma replied, kicking shut the door and following her son into the dining room. “I’m still leaning towards renting it out.”

Nick set the bags down on the dining table and quickly stole a peek at the goodies inside. “You’ve got enough sugar in here to put the whole village in a coma.”

“Oh, shut ya face,” Emma said with a chuckle, pulling off her gloves and removing her scarf before busying herself with unpacking tins of biscuits, boxes of chocolates, and gifts ready to be wrapped. A moment later, she asked, “So, have you started your Christmas shopping?”

Nick made a face. “That’s assuming I plan to do any.”

Emma raised an eyebrow without looking up. “It’s the twenty-first! Surely you’ll get Natalie something?”

“Of course.”

“And me?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Charming.”

Nick laughed.

“And Julia?”

Emma pushed her luck. Suddenly, everything shuddered to a halt, and the air became thick with tension.

“What?” Nick’s expression darkened, and his stance suddenly became defensive. “Why would I get that bitch anything?”

“Nick!” Emma’s stern reply came hard and fast as she whipped her head in her son’s direction. No matter what he thought about Julia and what she’d done, she wasn’t going to let him get away with calling her such horrible names. “Show some respect.”

“Respect?” He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Is that really the game we’re going to play?”

Emma felt the same tired argument hurtling towards them. For well over a year now, Nick had refused to have anything to do with Julia or James, despite her best efforts, and her son’s stubborn refusal was beginning to wear thin. “I know for a fact that she misses you.”

“Besties now, are we?” Nick shifted his weight to one hip, and his head tilted slightly as he studied his mother. “I didn’t realise you two were so close.”

“We’re not.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

Emma could feel her frustrations rising, and she let out a sigh to display her annoyance. “We’ve had a couple of coffees to try and find a path forward for all of us.”

“By ‘all of us’ you mean you, me and her.”

“Yes.”

Nick snuffed and shook his head. “Well, it’s not fuckin’ happening. I’m not having anything to do with that lying, manipulating bitch. By all means, you go right ahead and fall into her poisonous web again, but Natalie and I will never have anything to do with her again. Do you get me?”

Emma stopped what she was doing and turned to face him fully. There was a sadness in her eyes, and her expression seemed disappointed.  “You have such vitriol, such hatred for Julia but not James. I wonder why that is.”

“I hate them both.”

“No.” Her eyes narrowed, and she folded her arms as she leant against a dining chair to study him. “I don’t think you do. You’re indifferent to James, but you’re really upset at Julia, and I think that’s because you love her. She is your mother—”

“You’re my mother.”

“And so is she. I understand that you feel hurt and betrayed, but—”

“Wouldn’t you?” Nick’s voice almost boomed around the room, and he seemed almost startled by his own reaction. “Being lied to your entire life? Finding out that everything and everyone you loved was just all some big lie. Some big scam.”

Emma sucked in a long, steadying breath.

“I understand, Nick, believe me, I do.” She got it, really got it, but for her son to find peace in his life, she knew he needed to come to terms with the revelations about his paternity and find some way to start the path of healing. He had already lashed out, blowing up his life after discovering the truth by having an affair with Natalie behind Jasmine’s back, only to end his engagement and marry her – much to everyone’s surprise and disappointment. The union was an epic disaster waiting to happen, and Emma knew she needed to get her son back on an even path to prepare him for when – not if – things went belly-up in his marriage. He would need the love and support of everyone, Julia included, to survive the fallout for when things with Natalie eventually soured.

“But don’t you think she is hurting too?” Emma continued in a way that seemed to calm him and make him think. “She’s lost her son, Nick, the only thing in this world she truly loved and cared about. Can’t you find it in your heart to at least speak to her? It is Christmas after all.”

The Store,
Glendale

And so, I’m offering this simple phrase, to kids from one to ninety-two.
Although it’s been said many times, many ways, Merry Christmas to you.

Over the dulcet tones of Nat King Cole, the bell above the door of The Store gave its familiar jingle, followed by the sound of claws scraping on linoleum. Hilda Hollingsworth breezed in first, nattering away in her customary nasally rapid fire, followed by Betty Worchester in her usual black coat with a sheep’s wool lining and then, bringing up the rear, her eight-month-old Cairn Terrier, Patch.

Mouth puckered as she sucked on a Malteser, Queenie Baxter didn’t even look up from behind the counter.

“‘ilda, the mutt stays outside,” she called without glancing away from The Times crossword. “Same goes for the dog an’ all.”

Hilda stopped mid-stride, a hand pressed to her chest in mock outrage, while Betty’s crumpled like a bulldog.

“He won’t do no harm!” Betty protested. Besides her friendship with Hilda, Patch was her reason for being. A birthday gift from her son Gareth; he was her baby. He was her world.

Queenie looked up slowly with one eyebrow raised. “‘e just sniffed me melons an’ licked a pack of fig rolls.”

Betty chose to ignore the look of guilt plastered across Patch’s adorable little face. “He was only sayin’ hello.”

“An’ now ‘e can say goodbye as ya put ‘im outside. This ain’t Crufts!”

While Betty reluctantly ushered Patch out the door, Hilda made her way to the counter and leant against it. Her eyes sparkled with the scandalous morsel of gossip she had to share.

“Did I tell ya what I saw the other day on the green?”

Queenie’s attention returned to her crossword. “Nup.”

“I was horrified, Queenie, horrified!”

“When are ya not?”

“I’d just come out of the Oak and Vine when I saw it. Bold as brass. Clear as day.”

Queenie really wasn’t interested.

Betty returned and stood at Hilda’s side.

“Disgustin’, weren’t it, Betty?”

“Oh, aye. As mucky as a penny on the ground it were.”

Ironic, Queenie thought as she rolled her eyes over Betty with a look of disgust. Their truce, agreed upon for Audrey’s sake following Tom’s death, had lasted only a few months before peace shattered and hostilities resumed. Queenie had overheard an unpleasant remark Betty had made about her trifle entry for this year’s village fete, Betty had taken offence at Queenie’s retort, and ever since then, the lifelong adversaries had once again been throwing barbs at each other whenever the chance arose.

“Wot are ya even bumpin’ ya gums about?” Queenie’s irritation began to bubble. In that moment, she didn’t care about goodwill to men and all that nonsense. Betty was as irritating as a fly and about as useful as one too.

“Them!” Hilda let out an exasperated sigh, frustrated that Queenie didn’t already know. “Tilly Wainwright and the Vicar! Havin’ an affair!”

“Oh, don’t be so bloody ridiculous!” Queenie huffed. “I should put ya out with the bins yer full of that much rubbish!”

“I saw it with me own eyes!”

“Well, then ya need to book a bloody SpecSavers appointment for them rotten peepers of yours! ‘onestly! Such nonsense.”

“I saw them!” Hilda insisted. “Chattin’ away, touchin’ his arm, laughin’. Laughin’, Queenie. You don’t laugh like that with someone you’re not doing somethin’ with. I mean, what could be that funny to a vicar in the village green on a Thursday mornin’?”

Betty, who was now longingly fingering the display of Curly Wurlys on the counter and wondering what Slimming World would think, backed up her bestie and added fuel to the fire.

“Ya said ya’d never seen the vicar so happy. ‘Looked ten years younger’, ya said. ‘Practically glowin”, ya said.”

“Oh, shut ya fat face, Betty. I bet ya weren’t even there, ya fat old tart.” Queenie could take no more.

Hilda nodded, ignoring Queenie’s barb. “Exactly! That’s what I said to my Arthur. I said, ‘Arthur, that man is glowin’. He’s either in love or he’s discovered the joys of bakin’.’ And we all know it’s not the baked tarts he’s enjoyin’.”

Queenie rolled her eyes so hard she thought they’d tumble out of her skull.

Hilda sniffed and tugged at the cuffs of her red Christmas-themed cardigan. “I’m tellin’ ya, Queenie. There’s somethin’ goin’ on. I’ve seen it before. It’s the same look that Harold Bancroft had when he was…” Her voice trailed off as she suddenly realised that she was in the company of his mistress.

Betty – the one the late Harold had cheated on his wife with – shifted uncomfortably on the spot. “I blame the internet,” she said, quickly diverting the attention away from herself. “It’s all them people sellin’ mucky pictures of their feet on that OnlyFans.”

Queenie eyed her adversary suspiciously. “An’ ‘ow do ya know ‘bout this mucky fans thingy?”

Betty’s cheeks flared, and she carried on, ignoring the probing. “It’s messed with people’s heads, it has.”

“Truly,” Hilda agreed, nodding like a bobblehead. “Corrupted society it has. I blame that why-fry. Can’t be good for ya, all that invisible internet floatin’ about. Has made people go doolally and lose their minds, it has.”

“But the iPlayer is good,” Betty said, looking in Hilda’s direction.

“Oh, yes,” she agreed, nodding back at her friend with her head tilted to the side. “The BBC would never cause anyone to drop their knickers because of a bit of why-fry.”

“If ya spent ‘alf as much time bein’ useful as ya do on flappin’ ya gums ‘bout Tilly Wainwright, yer’d be dangerous yer would, ‘ilda ‘ollin’sworth!” Queenie leaned forward, her elbows resting on the wooden countertop as she honed her gaze on Hilda. “Yer gonna look really stupid when it turns out they’re just plannin’ somethin’ for Chris’mas or the church or somethin’.”

“The church? Ha! Don’t make me laugh!” Hilda rebuked. “If they’re plannin’ somethin’ special for the church, then I’ll eat my own shoes, because what I saw wasn’t innocent!”

“Polish is on the back wall,” Queenie said, nodding towards the rear of the shop.

While Hilda and Betty continued to rabbit on, Queenie returned her attentions to her crossword and filled in the answer for 4 Down:

Five-letter word for nonsense.
H – I – L – D – A.

The Lake House,
Glendale

Lake Ashcroft was grey and bleak as the water lapped gently against the bank and a pair of ducks waded silently by. Inside, the lake house smelt of wood and smoke, thanks to the six-foot noble fir tree and the fire crackling in the hearth, while Darlene Love’s voice soared from a small Bluetooth speaker.

Pretty lights on the tree, I’m watchin’ them shine.
You should be here with me, baby, please come home.

Julia stood by the Christmas tree with two gifts wrapped in gold paper and tied with perfectly perfect red ribbons. They weren’t much really. The small, square one was a monogrammed black leather wallet from Launer, while the larger rectangular one was a first edition of The Enchanted Wood. She had spotted it in a second-hand bookshop in London a few weeks earlier and was reminded of how much Nick loved it when he was little. On the gift tags, For Nicky xx was written in her elegant hand, and she crouched down to place them under the tree.

Straightening, she brushed her palms against her cashmere jumper, and her gaze fell upon her favourite photograph on the mantelpiece – Nick at eight years old, grinning at the camera with a gap-toothed smile, with his arms flung around her neck. Julia felt her throat tighten. If only she could have a do-over.

Suddenly, her phone pinged, and the sudden sound made her flinch. It was a message from her solicitor:

James is agreeing fully to your conditions in the divorce settlement.

She had to read it twice to make sure it wasn’t a joke and then returned the phone to the pocket of her tan-coloured slacks. She didn’t bother replying.

“About time,” she muttered under her breath with a deep exhale, finally feeling the shackles of the Harrington-Jones dynasty loosening. 2026 was already looking brighter.

The phone pinged again, and she sighed with irritation. James had changed his mind already; she’d put money on it. Removing the device from her pocket, she frowned as her eyes scanned the push notification on the screen. It wasn’t from her solicitor but from Nick.

I was wondering if we could talk.

Honeysuckle Cottage,
Glendale

“Hi guys!” Emma greeted Oliver and Poppy with a bright smile as she opened the front door to see their little faces beaming back at her. Rugged up in coats, scarves, woolly hats and mittens, the duo didn’t wait to be invited in as they hurried past their father’s girlfriend, desperate to escape the cold drizzle and enticed in by the smell of gingerbread.

“Hello, you.” Ben wiped his shoes on the doormat and smiled his perfect dimpled smile before kissing her on the lips. “Kids! Shoes!”

His instructions were ignored, and muffled squabbling broke out. Ben rolled his eyes at Emma and kicked off his shoes. “We thought we’d come and see if you needed a hand with any packing?”

“Thank you, that would be a godsend!” She smiled and closed the door behind him. “I only got back from the shops not long ago. I’m never doing the shopping this late ever again! It was madness! But I got everything, although it was touch and go for Poppy’s Labubu. There was one woman… I swear to God, she’s lucky she didn’t get a punch in the throat!”

Ben kissed Emma again, a little more passionately this time, before starting to remove his scarf and coat. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

Emma felt warm and tingly at his smile. “They’re all wrapped and under the tree, so we’ll see how long it takes them to notice.”

Suddenly, the fighting stopped. There was a brief silence that was then suddenly broken.

“DAD!” came Poppy’s excited squeal. “PRESENTS!”

10.4 seconds exactly.

“DAD!” Oliver stuck his head around the doorframe. “Come quick! There’s soooo many presents!”

After hanging up his coat and scarf, Ben made his way into the living room, followed closely by Emma. “Whoa!” he gasped over dramatically. “Look at that!”

Damp items of clothing lay strewn across the light brown carpet, and the twins were heads down, bums up underneath the tree.

“They’ve got our names on them!” Poppy squealed.

“Could be another Oliver and Poppy,” Emma teased, catching Ben’s wink.

They groaned in perfect unison. “Tell us what they are!”

Emma laughed, shaking her head. “Not a chance. You’ll just have to wait until Thursday like everyone else.”

“But that’s so far away!” Poppy whined, huffing and slouching in the overdramatic fashion she had perfected in her seven short years. “Pleeeease, Emma?”

“Yes, pleeeeeeease, Emma,” Oliver echoed, sounding like the boy from Mary Poppins and giving his best puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, my heart bleeds,” Ben replied with a chuckle. “Now, give poor Emma some peace and go and play your Switch while we sort out what to pack.”

That did the trick, and soon the pair were parked in front of the television, controllers in hand.

“Cuppa?” Emma asked, already heading in the direction of the kitchen before Ben had a chance to reply. Anything to avoid packing.

“You’re still sure about this?” he asked, following her and hanging back as she set about turning on the kettle, collecting the mugs and spooning in the sugars. “It’s a bit… chaotic at the farm with my parents and everyone. I just want to be sure.”

“I’m sure.” She looked back over her shoulder at him, firing off a reassuring smile as she dropped in the tea bags and grabbed the milk from the fridge. “I want to be there. With you. With the kids. With Pam.”

There was no mention of Brian.

Ben smiled, amazed at how he’d managed to score someone as wonderful as her. “As long as you’re sure?”

“I’m positive.” Emma marched the few steps between them and pecked him on the lips. “I promise.”

Ben’s heart pounded in his chest. Alone, face to face, this was the perfect moment. He slid his hand into the pocket of his jeans and felt the ring. “There’s actually something I wanted to—”

Suddenly, Emma’s phone buzzed on the countertop, drawing her attention away. She frowned at the push notification and left Ben hanging as she grabbed the device and read the message properly. “Omigod!”

Ben stood there, cut off mid-sentence, hand grasping his grandmother’s engagement ring in his pocket, heart thundering in his chest, wondering whether he should continue or not.

Rereading the message, Emma’s mouth dropped open. “Omigod!” she repeated and looked back at Ben.

His heart dropped to his stomach. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Without hesitation, Emma hurried out of the kitchen and ran towards the front door, snatching her coat from the coat stand as she went. “I’ve got to go!” She called back over her shoulder as she jammed her feet into her Skechers. “I’ve got to go!”

Ashbourne House,
Glendale

Charlotte Harrington-Jones sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, gazing silently out of the window of her brother’s house as she watched the light drizzle become a heavy shower. She couldn’t believe she was back living at her ancestral home. But, after her divorce, where else could she go? Pineview House wasn’t legally hers.

Beside her on the bed, was her iPhone, counting down to something she equally welcomed and regretted.

She thought about Christmas and how she was going to explain it all to her mother. Hazel was a nightmare at the best of times, but this, well, it would most likely kill her. She was certain that Victoria would be supportive and knew that James would be indifferent. She wondered if Natalie would tell Mark. They’d not spoken since the divorce, and she wondered if he’d even care.

The timer chimed, and she stared at the phone for a moment before silencing it. Her heartbeat quickened, and as she stood up, her legs felt like they could give way at any moment. The floor creaked beneath her as she crossed the room towards the en suite.

Approaching the vanity, she paused and looked at her reflection. In her late thirties, divorced and alone, this was the last thing she needed, but secretly, she was also thrilled at the prospect of what if? Without another moment of hesitation, she looked down at the pregnancy test waiting for her on the counter.

Two lines.

She was pregnant.

A frisson of excitement stirred within, and she tried hard to fight it. She’d been here before. She remembered the joy of a positive test after months of trying and the utter devastation when she lost it. But she couldn’t help it. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. Granted, this wasn’t how she wanted to do it, but fate had another idea, and finally, after years of wanting, she was going to be a mum.

The Store,
Glendale

The bell above the door gave its usual tingle as Jack stepped inside, his thumbs tapping away at his phone, and a smile that could light up London stretched across his face.

“Well, don’t ya look like that cat that got the cream?” Queenie commented from behind the counter as she sat perched on her usual stool, watching him from over the top of her reading glasses.

“Hiya, Queenie,” he said, pocketing his phone and taking a basket. “Just grabbing the usual bits.”

“‘The usual bits’, ‘e says!” she declared to the empty shop. “When a man comes in grinnin’ like the Cheshire Cat, it’s never just the ‘usual bits.’ ‘e’s either got ‘is leg over, got away with somethin’, or ‘is team won the football.”

Jack chuckled. “I’m just in a good mood, that’s all.”

“Mmhmm.” She pursed her lips. She didn’t believe him. “It’ll be that grindin’-wotsit. That mucky app all you lot ‘ave been usin’.”

“Queenie!”

She cackled at the look of horror on his face. “Oh, don’t be bein’ all ‘olier than thou with me, Jackie Boy,” she said, flapping a hand in his direction. “I say good on ya! Ya could do with a bit of fun after what that Lee did to ya!”

Jack smiled and shook his head as he continued to peruse the shelves.

Queenie squinted, watching him move about the shop. She wasn’t about to let it go. “Now, come on,” she began, “don’t leave an old lady waitin’. Every second for ya is ten for me at this age! Which fella ‘as put that silly look on ya face? I ain’t seen ya smile like that since I ‘ad to mark down that shipment of broken ‘obnobs.”

Jack tried to ignore her. “It’s nothing.”

Queenie leaned heavily on the counter, chin in hand. “Nothin’! It’s always nothin’. Me old dad, God rest ‘is soul, used to say that to me old mum, God rest ‘er soul, right before ‘e’d confess to somethin’ or another. Now, come on, out with it.”

She caught Jack’s glance, and from the smile he was trying to hide, she knew she was right.

“It’s that brewery lad that delivers to The Oak an’ Vine, ain’t it? That tall one. ‘ead shaved like a criminal. Eyes that would make ya knickers drop. Arms that could fling ya round the room.”

Jack didn’t flinch. Queenie thought harder.

“Oh no,” she groaned, “not that young yoga instructor that comes flouncin’ into the village ‘all bumpin’ ‘is gums about keen-mwah an’ celery juice! Oh Jackie, no, please tell me it ain’t ‘im! There’s only room for one Queenie in your life an’ it ain’t him!”

Jack stifled a laugh. “No, not him.”

“Ah!” Queenie’s eyes twinkled, and she slapped the countertop with joy. “So, it is someone! I knew it! I bally well knew it!”

Jack placed the final few items in his basket and headed towards the counter. “It’s not the delivery driver, it’s not the yoga instructor, and it’s not someone from Grindr.”

“Then who?” Queenie rang up the few items on the till, all the while trying to keep an eye firmly focused on her friend. “I’m runnin’ out of suspects ‘ere. Seven pound twen’y, Lovie.”

Jack tapped his card against the reader. “You wouldn’t guess if you tried.”

“Oh, I would!” Queenie took mock offence. “I’ll ‘ave ya know I was the matchmakin’ queen of this village once. ‘ence the name!”

“That’s not how you got the name.”

Queenie puffed out her chest. “A queen of many trades me. I got the ‘arrisons together, didn’t I?”

“You mean that story about those poor people you locked in the church hall cupboard back in eighty-eight?”

She sniffed. “It worked, didn’t it? Married twen’y years before ‘e ran off with that zah-room-bah instructor or whatever it is. Moral of the story, Jackie, ‘ealthy people are always randy an’ will always break up ya marriage!”

Jack grinned again, shaking his head as he packed the items into his bag for life. “You’re impossible.”

“An’ you’re avoidin’ the question.” She leaned forward, refusing to let it go. “So, come on, tell ya ol’ pal Queenie. Who’s the mister that’s made ya ‘eart go all funny an’ ya trousers go all tight? Promise I won’t tell a soul.”

Jack hesitated, knowing once he let the genie out of the bottle, he’d never be able to get it back in.

“Alright,” he said finally. “You really want to know?”

Queenie nodded eagerly, as if he even needed to ask.

“It’s… Matthew.”

Queenie frowned. She hadn’t the foggiest. “Matthew?”

“Turner.”

There was a beat of silence, and then…

“The vicar?!” She squawked so loud it would’ve been heard two towns over and clamped a hand to her mouth as if he’d just said he was dating Prince William. “Ya fancy Reverend Turner?”

Jack winced. It was the reaction he was expecting, but it still stung a little. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

Queenie was still reeling from the revelation. “I know, but I thought… well, I don’t know what I thought. The vicar? I mean… the vicar? Jackie, I don’t think ‘e can be… well, y’know. ‘e’s a vicar. The clues in the title.”

“He’s really lovely.”

“Cos ‘e’s a vicar! They ‘ave to be. It’s in the job description.”

“I really like him, Queenie,” Jack said earnestly, giving her a doe-eyed look that would’ve made Princess Diana proud.

Queenie shook her head. It would all end in tears. She could see it as clear as the nose on her face. “An’ I really like Fiona Bruce, but ya don’t see me professin’ me undyin’ love for ‘er every time she pops up on Antiques Roadshow!”

Before Jack had a chance to answer, the door to the shop flung open, almost ripping the bell from the wall. Startled, he spun on his heels, and Queenie practically jumped over the counter with fright.

Emma hurried inside, breathless, having run the few streets to The Store as fast as she possibly could. “Queenie!”

“Wot in the world?!” The elderly woman hopped off her stool and moved around the counter as fast as her tired old bones would allow. Her eyes scanned Emma for any signs of injury, and her fragile old heart beat at a rhythm it hadn’t since the Thatcher years. “Who lit a cracker an’ whacked it under yer bum?”

“I’ve found her,” Emma panted breathlessly. “I’ve found her!”

Confusion reigned.

Queenie looked from Emma to Jack and back again. She hadn’t a clue what – or who – she was talking about. “Yer gonna ‘ave to be a bit more specific, Lovie,” she said, patting her hand in sympathy and wondering if Emma was beginning to lose her marbles. “I might be good at me crossword, but even that Carol Vorderman wouldn’t be able to work out what yer bumpin’ ya gums about.”

Emma gulped down air and tried to steady her breathing for the bombshell she was about to deliver. “Gail,” she said, noticing the nonagenarian’s expression immediately change from a confused frown to bewildered astonishment. “Your daughter. I’ve found her, Queenie, and she wants to meet you.”

NEXT TIME…

• Queenie faces her past.
• Nick and Julia come face to face.
• Tony and Carol say a final goodbye to The Oak & Vine.