Light snow powdered the lawn and much of Chessington's driveway, making white fingers of the tree branches and sprinkling the stone lions, as if by a pastry chef. Cass thrust her fingers deeper into the pockets of her coat-anything to mask what crept up her spine.

"Ow, for the love of soddin' Christ, Saff, just another week or so?"

Ruby's imitation of her was so startling, it dragged Cass from her contemplation. Not of the stone lions. If only.

"Whot the bleedin' ...