The farmhouse door stood open.

Richard was in the kitchen attempting soup, and Beatrice was laughing at the amount of pepper he had added.

Noah toddled between them holding a wooden spoon.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, letting the ordinary sight settle into me.

Richard noticed and raised an eyebrow.

‘Are you going to help or supervise?’

‘I’m going to rescue dinner,’ I said.

Beatrice made room for me beside the stove.