An hour later, Lucy was standing in the snow, leaning on a spade, when Alan came huffing out of the fudge shop’s back door with a tray of fresh fudge in his hands.
‘Next one,’ he said.
Lucy pointed at a flat place she had made in the snow. ‘Put it right there,’ she said.
Alan dropped the tray. It immediately began to fizz and sink into the snow, so Lucy laid a sheet of tin foil over the top and then shoveled snow on top of it. The garden was now full of little mounds of snow where other trays lay buried.
‘Good job,’ she said.
‘Do we have enough yet?’
‘Tell them to keep cooking,’ Lucy said. ‘We need more.’
‘We’re running out of sugar,’ Alan said. ‘Klaus had to poach a couple of bags off the Castle Hotel.’
Lucy smiled. ‘I don’t think Elizabeth Trevellian will miss it on her cornflake
