I tried hard not to think of previous Christmases and not to wonder more than a few times a day how my own family were doing. Will spent a couple of days with a slight fever, but then improved quickly as his arm healed. He seemed cheerful. The constraint that he’d shown after I told him my story had lessened after the night-time chase. He treated me in a friendly, teasing way, almost as though I were a younger sister. Our hosts were generous and thoughtful and offered us plain but tasty fare. For our Christmas meal, we had goose, roasted potatoes, vegetables and gravy. Ann had made the best plum pudding I’d ever tasted. It was filled with smuggled dried fruits and laced liberally with contraband brandy she told me proudly. French wine and cognac were in abundance, naturally. I attended church with Jacob and Ann on Christmas Day. Jacob whispered to me during the service that both the parson and his sexton were good customers of the trade, and regularly hid shipments of brandy in the church tower and the vaults.
