Seizing a tea towel, she opened the oven door and yanked out the tray of mince pies. Just in time. The pastry was golden and flaking, the fruit glistening stickily in the centres. Leaving the tray on the sideboard, Ellie dug around in the cupboard for the cooling tray, and transferred the pies to it, giving little gasps of pain as the hot pastries burned her fingertips. Her mother would have chided her and told her to wait until they were cooler. But her mother was not at home; it was the evening of her knitting group. She had been going for a few weeks now and, to Ellie’s surprise, showed no sign of renouncing her promise to Thomas. She had discovered that the other ladies loved it when she brought Charlie with her. Given that she wasn’t exactly adept at these social situations, his presence had soon proven invaluable. He’d become a permanent fixture after the first few sessions and Ellie had been enjoying the time to herself, free from Charlie-minding duties and her mother’s supervision.
