and was only truly happy when she found it. ‘Do you remember the winter of ’63?’ She sucked air through her lips. ‘We were stuck indoors for a week! Your dad had to dig us out with a spade. It did his back in, that did. He came out of the war without a scratch but did his back in digging us out with a spade.’ She pulled her dressing gown tighter across her body and shivered. ‘I’ll never forget the cold. Oooh, it was Siberian.’
‘Have you ever been to Siberia, Nan?’ asked Suze in a disinterested tone, without taking her eyes off her phone.
Her grandmother ignored her. ‘We didn’t have the luxury of central heating like you do, Suze,’ she said. ‘It was bitter. There was ice on the inside of the windows and we had to run across the garden to use the toilet. We didn’t have an indoor toilet back then. You don’t know how lucky you are, you people.’
Marigold glanced out of the window. The sight of snow had lifted her spirits. The country might grind to a standstill, she thought happily, but it would look like a winter wonderland.
‘Lovely,’ said Nan as a cup of tea was duly placed in front of her. At eighty-six her curly hair had turned white, her body was frail and her face as creased as crêpe paper, but her mind was as sharp and focused as it always had been. The years had taken much, but they had not taken that. Marigold gave Nan the crossword from the newspaper, then went to the sideboard to put two slices of bread in the toaster. Nan had moved in with Marigold and Dennis only the week before after months of gentle persuasion and encouragement. She had been reluctant to leave the home she had lived in throughout her marriage and where she had raised her two children, Patrick and Marigold, even though she was only moving a few minutes up the road. She had insisted that she was perfectly capable of looking after herself and complained that she felt as if she was being shuffled into Heaven’s waiting room when she wasn’t in the least ready to go. However, in spite of her grumbling, she had sold the house for a tidy sum and moved in with her daughter, making herself comfortable in her new room. She had demanded that Dennis replace the pictures on the wall with her own and Dennis had obliged in his good-natured way while Marigold had helped unpack her things and arrange them to her satisfaction. In fact, mother and daughter had rapidly slipped into an easy routine. Nan discovered that she rather enjoyed having someone at her beck and call after all and Marigold relished having another person to look after, because she enjoyed being useful. She ran the village shop and the post office, as she had done for over thirty years. She also sat on various committees, for the village hall and the local church and the odd charity, because she liked to keep busy. At sixty-six Marigold had no intention of slowing down. Having Nan at home gave her a warm feeling of being needed.
‘Well, I adore snow,’ she said, cracking eggs into a pan.
Nan studied the crossword through her spectacles. ‘The whole country will grind to a standstill, mark my words,’ she repeated, shaking her head. ‘I remember the winter of ’63. Livestock died, people froze to death, nothing worked. It was death and destruction everywhere.’
‘Well, I remember the winter of 2010 and we all managed,’ said Suze, still gazing into her phone.
‘What are you doing on that thing anyway?’ asked Nan, peering at it from across the table. ‘You haven’t taken your eyes off it all morning.’
‘It’s my job,’ Suze mumbled, raking the fringe off her face with a manicured hand.
‘She’s an “influencer”,’ Marigold interrupted, giving Suze a nod, although Suze didn’t see it. Nor did she see the proud though slightly baffled look on her mother’s face.
‘What’s an “influencer”?’ Nan asked.
‘It means everyone wants to be me,’ Suze informed her dully and without irony.
‘She writes about fashion and food and, well, lifestyle, don’t you, love?’ Marigold added. ‘A bit of everything and she posts it all on her Instagram account. You should see it, the photographs are lovely.’
‘Do you make any money doing a bit of everything?’ Nan asked, sounding unconvinced that being an ‘influencer’ was a worthwhile form of employment.
‘She’s going to make lots.’ Dennis answered for his