‘There’s bound to be lots of leftover turkey. I thought I’d use it up in a flan with leeks and cheese.’ She turned her attention back to Tom. ‘And a couple of pounds of carrots, a swede, a bag of potatoes, a box of dates and two dozen tangerines.’

‘Good job I came, or you’d never have managed to carry this little lot out of the shop.’ Lotti took the already heavy shopping basket from Vicky and held it out so that Tom Payne could rattle the loose carrots on top of the leeks and parsnips.

Her nail varnish was midnight-blue and Tom didn’t flinch, though the woman waiting her turn immediately behind Vicky, did.

When the rest of Vicky’s shopping had been squeezed into a second basket Lotti picked up the bag of potatoes, blew Tom a kiss and led the way out of the shop, wishing everybody a cheery Merry Christmas as she did so.

‘I need to check with Jack Wilkinson what time I can expect the turkey,’ Vicky said, easing the handle of her cane shopping basket so that it sat a little more comfortably on her arm. ‘Last year it wasn’t delivered till late afternoon and I don’t know whose panic was worse, mine or Josephine’s.’

The queue at the butcher’s was even longer than the queue at the greengrocer’s had been and Jack Wilkinson, seeing her at the back of the shop, simply shouted: ‘Mid-morning, Mrs Priestley! And it’s a reet grand bird!’

‘Paul or Hugo or Max would have come into Little Ridding for the veg, if you’d asked them,’ Lotti said as they made their way towards where Vicky had parked the car, the settled snow scrunching beneath their feet.

‘I know they would, but I enjoy shopping on Christmas Eve morning. In fact, I like everything about Christmas Eve, especially the carol service at church this evening. Violet will be coming with us. I don’t think you’ve seen her for a long time, have you?’

‘No, but I don’t imagine she’s changed, which is fine by me even though she is always wonderfully rude about the way I dress.’

As they neared the car, Vicky said tentatively, ‘I thought you might have brought someone with you this Christmas. Boyfriends are always welcome at Shuttleworth Hall, as you well know.’

‘I do know.’ Lotti thought of Vladimir and dismissed him as not being worthy of mention. ‘And if there was anyone special I would have brought him. Only there isn’t.’

She lowered the basket and bag she was carrying to the ground as Vicky unlocked the car. ‘And it’s no use trying to marry me off, Aunt Vicky. As a cabaret artiste, the only men I meet are either homosexuals or Nazis. And though I much prefer the homosexuals to the Nazis, they aren’t brilliant husband material.’

Vicky’s lips twitched in a smile. ‘No,’ she said, as she slid behind the wheel and Lotti opened the front passenger door, ‘I don’t imagine they are.’