Dolly frowned and looked at the offending split which was possibly worse than first thought. ‘This is my favourite. I’ll have to see if Mr Greening can fix it.’

  Hugh Kennington-Jones’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen then stood up. ‘I’d better take this.’

  The man walked into the small side sitting room off the kitchen.

  ‘What do you mean it’s gone?’ Alice-Miranda heard him say. ‘Again! That much stock just can’t disappear in a puff of smoke. It has to be somewhere.’

  ‘Everything’s fine, Mummy?’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘That doesn’t sound very fine to me.’

  Hugh reappeared. ‘Sorry, ladies, I’ve got to go – small problem at the office.’

  ‘Daddy, what’s the matter?’ Alice-Miranda demanded. ‘You’re not going anywhere until you tell me.’

  The man looked at his only daughter. He could barely get away with things when she was a five-year-old and now she was more than double that he had no chance.

  ‘In the past month or so, we seem to be missing a large amount of Christmas stock. It’s leaving the warehouses but not arriving at the destinations. Trucks are going out full and turning up half empty. Everything that’s missing is Christmas-related,’ Hugh explained.

  ‘So it’s not supply-chain issues then,’ Alice-Miranda said.

  ‘No,’ Hugh said. ‘We have a gang of thieves and we have no idea where the stock is going or how it’s getting there. But honestly, darling – you shouldn’t worry. It won’t kill us – at least not in the short-term – but it’s not good for our reputation that’s for sure, or for the shoppers who rely on us.’

  ‘Have you got cameras in the trucks?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  Her father nodded. ‘Yes – in the trailers and the cabins. But so far, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. It’s as if somehow the stock disappears into thin air. Anyway, I’ve got to get going.’

  Alice-Miranda picked at a piece of leftover bacon on her plate. ‘There has to be a logical explanation. Things don’t just vanish.’

  Hugh reached for his coffee mug and took a large swig before setting it back down.

  ‘Here, sir,’ Dolly handed the man a paper bag. ‘I’ve made you an egg and bacon buttie – to take with you.’

  The man took it and gave the cook an unexpected kiss on the cheek. ‘You’re a darling, Dolly.’

  ‘Oh, Hugh – get away with you,’ the woman replied, her cheeks blushing.

  He then kissed Cecelia and Alice-Miranda.

  ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ he called as he rushed out the door.

  ‘Come on, darling, your father will get everything sorted – we have a tree to decorate,’ Cecelia said. She placed her teacup on the saucer, folded her napkin and stood up.

  But Alice-Miranda couldn’t help thinking that she’d like to help in some way. Surely there had to be something she could do.

  Venetia Baldini sat at the kitchen bench scanning the menu she’d just finished writing. Her employer was keen to try a wide variety of dishes before deciding on the final selections for his party. The man was exacting, that’s for sure. Venetia’s feet hurt and her back ached. She rubbed her temples and hoped that the headache that had been threatening for a week now stayed away. The last thing she needed was a migraine. They could put her out of action for days.

  Venetia pulled her phone from her pocket. She’d try and get hold of Caprice again. The girl was clearly upset about having to stay at school but, honestly, Venetia would rather suffer the wrath of her youngest child than lose the business she’d spent years creating. Anyway, she was fairly certain that her daughter rather enjoyed her holidays in Italy and the other trappings that had come with Venetia’s success. To have it all disappear overnight would be difficult for everyone. Thankfully, Caprice was on a scholarship so that was one less thing to worry about. But having her ferried around to all of the singing competitions she was keen on wasn’t an inexpensive exercise either.

  She dialled the number and listened to it ring before going to voicemail yet again.

  ‘Hello, darling, Mummy here. Just checking in to see that you’re okay. Give me a call when you can, though I’m sure that Mrs Clarkson is keeping you busy. I’m sorry about having to leave you at school, but I promise I’ll explain all when I see you. Love you,’ the woman said and hung up. Perhaps she should try Mrs Clarkson but, truthfully, she was reluctant to phone the woman given she’d probably ruined her pre-Christmas plans. She’d organised to have a hamper sent to thank her.

  ‘Excuse me, Miss Baldini. Sir would like to see you upstairs,’ the woman in black said.

  Venetia tried not to let out the sigh she was holding in.

  ‘I’ll be right there,’ she said, reaching across to her handbag and the packet of pills that she hoped would put an end to the throbbing in her skull.

  Delia Wickham rubbed her neck. She hadn’t been sleeping well at all in the past few weeks – waking up every morning just after four with her mind racing. Only yesterday, she’d received a letter from her sister’s solicitor asking that she attend the reading of the woman’s will. It wasn’t likely there was anything left in her estate after the years of care Maggie had received, but the man said it was important she be there, and her daughter too, if the girl could be located.

  The last private detective Delia had consulted to try and find her niece had come to the conclusion that Aster had most likely left the country and made a new life for herself overseas. But Delia wasn’t convinced about that – she’d only been fifteen when she ran away. At that age, she didn’t believe the girl would have had the resources nor the wherewithal to obtain a passport and get to another country. Delia had always imagined her niece was probably pulling beers in some country pub.

  When she called another company this week, she was stunned by how much higher their fees were these days. She could scarcely afford to engage them and while Delia hated the idea of asking for her employer’s help, she might have to if she really wanted to get anywhere. But this week, Elliot Turner had other things to think about. She’d wait until after Christmas to discuss it with him.

  Ellie had been feeling sick all day. Not helped by the conflicting voices in her head – one telling her that she wasn’t a thief and asking why she’d take such a stupid risk, and the other the voice of someone who wanted desperately to keep Hazel’s friendship and prove that she was in fact ‘cool’ enough to be part of something. Ellie had never been part of anything before – at least nothing worth remembering.

  She stared out the window at the bare limbs of the oak tree that sat in the middle of the quadrangle. A square patch of dirt surrounded the majestic trunk while beyond that the entire yard was concrete. But at least the buildings here were well kept. There were flowerboxes outside the office and playing fields with grass – unlike most of the schools she’d attended up to now. She could imagine how pretty the oak tree would be in spring and summer.

  It was the last class of the day and Ellie wasn’t remotely thinking about the novel they were currently reading – even though she quite liked it.

  ‘And who can tell me how Tegan felt when she betrayed her best friend?’ the teacher asked. She looked around the room at a sea of blank faces. ‘Ellie?’

  The girl was still staring out the window.

  ‘E-llie – anyone h-o-me?’ Mrs Lewis sang to chuckles from her classmates.

  The girl looked up and blinked, then realised that the teacher had been speaking to her. ‘Sorry, Mrs Lewis, what did you say?’

  The woman sighed and glanced at her watch.

  She was about to repeat herself when the shrill ringing of the bell infiltrated the building. Immediately, chairs scraped backwards and books were gathered as the students began to leave.

  ‘Well, that was fortunate,’ Mrs Lewis said, pushing a strand of mouse-brown hair behind her ear. ‘See you all tomorrow – and just because it’s the last day before the Christmas break doesn’t mean that I won’t be collecting homework.’

  There was a collective groan from her charges.

  Ellie stood up and gathered her things. Hazel didn’t take the advanced English class and would be waiting for her at the lockers.

  ‘Ellie, are you all right?’ The teacher intercepted the girl on her way out, standing in front of the doorway. Mrs Lewis had kind blue eyes and a soothing voice, and Ellie had felt a connection with her from the moment she’d set foot in the woman’s class. She always wore interesting shoes too. Today they had cat faces on them.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ Ellie replied.

  ‘I know it’s tough starting at a new school, but you’re a clever girl. Your writing is some of the finest I’ve ever seen from a student your age, but . . .’

  Ellie had a feeling the woman wanted to ask if there was anything wrong at home – thankfully she didn’t. Ellie would have loved to tell her exactly how things were – we don’t have enough food, there’s no heat, Mum can barely pay the bills, my stepfather has been missing in action for over a year and my little brother is prone to taking shiny things that don’t belong to him. Other than that, life is tickety-boo. But she didn’t.

  Ellie bit her lip and cast her eyes to the floor, hoping that Mrs Lewis hadn’t noticed the holes in her coat or that her shoes were a half size too small. Her mother said that she’d get her new ones as soon as she could afford it.

  ‘Ellie, if there’s anything I can do to make life here easier, please let me know,’ Mrs Lewis said with an understanding smile.

  ‘Thanks,’ the girl mumbled and hurried out the door and down the hall where Hazel was standing by the lockers waiting for her.

  ‘What took you so long?’ Hazel asked, as she stuffed a pile of books into her locker.

  ‘We still have homework,’ Ellie said with a frown as she worked out what she needed to take home with her.

  ‘Seriously? You’re not going to do it, are you? It’s almost Christmas,’ Hazel said.

  Ellie shrugged. Of course, she would. If she was going to get a scholarship to university and become something, she had no choice – because there was no way she was going to end up in the same situation as her mother.

  ‘So, are you going to Kennington’s?’ Hazel asked.

  ‘Sure,’ Ellie said as she slung her bag over her shoulder and felt the knot in her stomach tighten.

  Alice-Miranda and her friends had spent most of the morning and another hour after lunchtime decorating the Christmas tree. Not that everyone had worked on it the whole time. Millie and Sloane had drifted away to the kitchen to help Mrs Oliver cook sheets of gingerbread, which they were going to use later that evening to make gingerbread houses. It was one of the activities on Alice-Miranda’s schedule, which also included sledding if there was any snow, ice skating on the frozen pond (again this was dependent on conditions, but there was always the ice rink a few villages away as a backup), various games including hide-and-seek, which, given the size of Highton Hall, could take at least half a day, and other crafty pursuits – to name but some of what she had planned.

  Neville and Chessie busied themselves adorning the entrance hall with fairy lights and other decorations while Lucas, Jacinta and Sep were seconded by Mr Greening, who decided that the outside of the house needed some additional festive charm. He’d found a stash of giant-coloured baubles in one of the sheds – left over from when the family had held the Highton’s Christmas party onsite some years before. He thought they could make a perfect display in the garden and he even had some fake snow to add in the absence of the real thing arriving yet. There were some life-sized wire reindeer, as well.

  Caprice stuck with Alice-Miranda and was surprisingly helpful sorting the decorations and pointing out spaces where things might go. During the day the swelling on her nose had gone down a bit but she still had two dark circles under her eyes, so it would be a few days before her face would be completely back to normal. Caprice didn’t seem too worried, which was somewhat surprising.

  Alice-Miranda had been up and down the ladder more times than she could count, much to her mother’s concern. One trip to the hospital this week had been quite enough.

  Mrs Shillingsworth wandered through the lounge with a feather duster in hand, having spent much of the day finishing her jobs before the rest of the family descended over the weekend.

  ‘That’s looking splendid,’ Shilly said.

  ‘We need everyone for this last part,’ Millie said, as she handed Alice-Miranda the oversized star. She and Sloane had returned from the kitchen while the last of the gingerbread was in the oven.

  Lucas, Sep and Jacinta thundered through from the hallway. ‘You should see outside,’ Lucas panted. ‘The garden looks amazing, and yum,’ he inhaled a deep breath. ‘Something smells delicious.’

  The children gathered around the tree with Cecelia, Shilly and Mrs Oliver while Alice-Miranda scampered back up the ladder for the last time.

  She reached out and placed the star at the very top. ‘Tah-dah!’ she exclaimed.

  The others clapped and cheered and proclaimed that it was the best-decorated Christmas tree they’d ever seen. Even Cecelia had to admit that it looked every bit as good as the ones in the stores and they were put together by teams of professional Christmas decorators.

  ‘Well done, darlings,’ Cecelia said. ‘What a marvellous job. I hate to think we’ve got to take it all down again in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘True – but putting it up was fun,’ Alice-Miranda said.

  ‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Caprice said. ‘Thank you for letting me help.’

  ‘Bravo, everyone,’ Dolly said. ‘But I’m afraid we have a small problem.’

  The children looked at her.

  ‘I was just getting the sweets out for the gingerbread decorating later and realised that we only have half as much as we need, and I know I bought at least double the amount that’s there.’ She glared at Lucas, who raised his hands in protest.

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ he said – pointing at Sep and Neville. ‘I didn’t eat them all.’

  ‘Oi – it wasn’t us either,’ Neville said. ‘We didn’t take them – though we might have helped eat them.’

  Sloane sighed. ‘It was me. I thought we needed some extra sugar while we were playing charades last night. I’m sorry, Mrs Oliver. I didn’t realise they were for the gingerbread houses.’

  ‘Sloane Sykes, I might have known,’ Dolly said, shaking her head.

  The girl bit her lip. ‘I’m so sorry – really, I am.’ Her eyes filled with tears and Dolly suddenly looked horrified.

  ‘Oh, dear girl, I was only having a laugh. You’re not in trouble. Goodness me – if Alice-Miranda had been here last night I doubt there would have been any left at all.’

  ‘Excuse me!’ the girl said, putting her hands on her hips. ‘You know I would have left the liquorice. Yuck.’

  The others laughed.

  ‘So you’re not really cross?’ Sloane said.

  ‘No, of course not,’ Dolly said and hugged Sloane around her shoulders. ‘But you can take yourselves for a walk to the village and buy some more sweets. I won’t have those gingerbread houses looking underdone,’ she said, then handed the girl some money. ‘Why don’t you each buy what you want?’

  ‘Is it a competition?’ Caprice asked. ‘The decorating.’

  Dolly looked at her, then at the other children. ‘Always. But I was thinking this year we’d have three categories – best overall, most interesting, and potential tastiest.’

  ‘I’m in,’ Lucas said.

  There were murmurs of agreement from everyone else.

  ‘Although the one I made last year when I was with Dad and Charlotte and the twins in LA was pretty terrible,’ Lucas added.

  ‘All right – let’s ask Mrs Greening to do a blind judging,’ Shilly said.

  Caprice grinned.

  ‘Why do you look like the cat who got the cream?’ Millie asked.

  ‘Because my mother isn’t the only one in the family who has talent when it comes to sweet things,’ the girl said, raising her eyebrows then grimacing. ‘Ow – I shouldn’t do that.’ She clutched at her nose.

  The others all looked at each other, then at Caprice.

  ‘Game on,’ Lucas said.

  Ellie had just turned the corner onto the high street. She could feel the beads of perspiration dripping down her back – which was ridiculous given it was barely five degrees and she’d shivered through most of the day. Now the closer she got to her destination, the hotter she felt.

  Hazel hadn’t offered to come with her and Ellie was glad of it. While Ellie might have grown up poor, she’d never once resorted to stealing and though she didn’t disagree with the ideology of sharing the wealth (everyone knew the story of Robin Hood and his Merry Men) – actually being one of the Merry Men wasn’t proving so easy.

  Ellie reached the entrance to Kennington’s. There was no sign of her mother, who she hoped was working behind the scenes at the supermarket today. She spied the small donations box sitting atop the service counter. It didn’t look as if it was attached to a security cable. Surely it wouldn’t have that much money in it anyway. Was it even stealing if the contents were going to people who really needed it? At least that’s what the voice in her head kept telling her.

  The checkouts were empty, save for one pimply teen, who was serving a woman dressed in brown from head to toe. Ellie thought she recognised her and realised that she was one of the teachers at Myles’s school. Fabulous. There was no one at the self-service check-outs.

  Ellie took off her coat and draped it over her arm, then walked to the counter and stood right by the donation box. It wasn’t very big. The plan was to use her coat to cover the box then slide it off the counter into her backpack. It seemed the best idea – at least until she spotted a small girl with chocolate curls holding a basket full of sweets heading for one of the self-serve check-outs. Ellie needed to move fast. She placed her coat over the box. Below it on the floor her backpack sat open, wide enough for it to drop inside. Trouble was, the next time she looked up, the girl with the curls was surrounded by a group of chattering kids. From the looks of their baskets, they were buying half the confectionery aisle.