At the top of the street the ancient church and castle made a romantic backdrop to the Christmassy scene, but she was in no mood to linger at the floodlights. There was her list to consult. Tim’s parents were sorted, the stocking fillers for Evie and the book for Mrs Snowden were in her bag, along with some spare boxes of chocolate mints from Whitakers in case they were invited anywhere unexpectedly. She had got the tinsel to finish off Evie’s angel outfit for the school play, but her most important quest was unfulfilled: something for Evie’s main present. She was not going to set up Evie with loads of compensations for taking her away from her grandparents. She was too young for CDs and most computer games. She wanted something thoughtful, something creative, and as if in answer to her prayer there it was in the window of the art shop: a huge box of paints. It was a compendium of chalks and pastels, poster paints and watercolours, with sketchbooks and palette. Evie had stuffed a letter up the wood-burner asking Santa for something to do.
