As always, there's that fierce edge for a moment to the tightness of Sabrina's arms around her, as though she could take Rosie inside herself as a means of protecting her further. It never fails to make Rosie's throat tight, her heart almost overfull with emotion and love. She nods, listening to the quiet murmur of the other girl's voice and the conviction therein. "That's true," she says, equally hushed and equally firm. "We didn't just...wait for this to happen, we made sure it would. Through whatever means we could."

The question that follows makes her smile, and she goes quiet again, thinking. "It didn't happen every year, but sometimes after dinner we'd bring my grandmother's old record player down from the loft," she says. "It was one of those old ones, wind-up, and some of the records that we could play on it were Christmas songs. We'd bring it down to the sitting room and turn all the lights off but the tree, and just listen to song after song until we were tired of it."