It would be madness to attempt to go anywhere. The gritters never came this far. Most of the roads across the moor were blocked. Sheep were left to fend for themselves as farmers gave up the futile attempts to get their Land Rovers out with bales of extra hay. They just had to pray their flocks had the stamina to outlive the weather. The bells of the church rang out to its own flock for midnight mass. Charlotte could hear them, sitting in her little house, and suddenly felt the need for company, for the comfort of strangers. She had been planning to go up to Gussie’s for Christmas. It would be the first time she had returned to London since she had left, and she thought she felt strong enough to return and face her past. But now it was out of the question. She was stranded in Withybrook. Completely cut off. Maybe it was for the best, she thought miserably. Being in the bosom of Gussie’s exuberant, madcap family would probably only highlight the hopelessness of her own situation. And although Gussie had absolutely insisted they would love to have her, she would still feel like an outsider, the one who didn’t belong.
