I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of his voice, despite having to acknowledge that no one would have been able to sleep while I was exuding so much nervous tension. Forcing myself to glance over, I felt a rush of relief. It was only Henry, after all. Sitting up in the pile of blankets, his hair a mess, face dark with stubble and wearing a bile-coloured fleece beneath his cardigan. I continued looking at him for a few more seconds, just to be sure that the disturbing feelings had gone.

Phew.

‘Bea?’

‘Oh! Um, yes. I’m fine. Trying to keep warm. I don’t suppose you could get the last two logs burning while I sort breakfast?’

‘Have you checked the weather?’ He stood up, stretching so that his hands brushed the ceiling, revealing a flash of skin in between his cardigan and the top of his crumpled trousers.

The feelings twitched in interest, so I flipped around and started scooping coffee into mugs. ‘Not yet.’

‘Wow, is it a special day today or something?’

‘I’ve literally just got up.’

‘I’d have expected you to scroll through all the juicy data before getting out of bed.’

‘I might have done, if I hadn’t been in bed with you.’

Unfortunately, I turned around with the mugs just as I said it, so he got to see my look of horror accompanied by cheeks bursting into flames. Henry flicked immediately into robot mode, kneeling down and focusing on precisely positioning the logs on top of last night’s ashes.

I left his mug on the floor nearby and retreated back to the kitchen area, busying myself with opening the packet of crumpets we’d scavenged at the service-station shop.

‘There’s no toaster,’ I said, once Henry had the fire blazing. I walked over holding out a crumpet stuck on the end of a fork. Sitting on the cushions toasting our breakfast was a helpful distraction from the vaguely weird atmosphere still loitering, as if something significant had happened that neither of us wanted to talk about. Using the last items in the hamper, I introduced Henry to cheese and chutney on crumpets, which he initially regarded with deep suspicion, until he tried one and had to admit it was the only way to eat crumpets from now on.

We took our final crumpets outside with another mug of coffee, perching on a stone wall at the back of the house. As Walter had predicted, the wind had settled and the air was crisp and clear. We watched the sunrise streak across the pale winter sky, illuminating the snowfall with a glittering rainbow of gold, reds and oranges.

‘Almost as good as the forest.’ Henry breathed a contented sigh as a flock of crows danced across the field beyond the wall.

I nodded in agreement. ‘Speaking of which…’