All those strands that had seemed to float in disarray had been woven together.
‘Penny for them.’
Strands...accidental meetings and quirks of fate...Thosewere the things that had been occupying Celia’s mind as she’d gazed at her six-week-old daughter, who was fast asleep in her Moses basket, oblivious to her parents sitting on the sofa next to the basket, lazily watching telly and sporadically chatting.
What better way to spend an evening, one of their first, in the sweetest cottage they had found in a little village in Berkshire?