“This child sleeps a lot,” Hana remarked to her brother. He came and peered into the pram at the bobble-hatted head and the healthy flushed cheeks.
“She’s having a growth spurt probably. She certainly eats like a horse! Also the mountain air must be so refreshing, a bit like the English going to the seaside for a constitutional.” He went back to poking around in the pots of conifers, popping his head up to ask, “Hey, I don’t suppose you fancy doing a spot of planting with me, do you? I feel like I need to be busy.”
Hana looked at the site. “It’s already marked out,” she mused. Small threads were placed along the string at even distances, presumably denoting where individual plants should go. Logan was so precise and ordered. “Logan probably agonised over the distances.” Hana imagined her
