‘Regret spending years trying to be someone I’m not, forsaking time doing the things I enjoy to hang out with people who I had nothing in common with?’

‘Fair enough.’ I blew out a long sigh, my forehead vibrating against the icy window. ‘I’m still jealous, though. Even if you do wear jeans and ditched the bad hair, you’re still happily going through life being completely you, not even realising how much most of us struggle with that.’

He shook his head. ‘Are you joking? You’ve defied your parents’ wishes and expectations and taken a job they can’t understand. You do that job differently from anyone else, even down to how you dress. You walked out of a fantastic opportunity because you refused to go along with everyone else in the room and say something negative. We’re nearly an hour late to an Armstrong Christmas dinner because you had to check on a woman you’ve never met. I think the only people I know who are as authentically themselves as you, Bea, is your parents. It’s really time you stopped beating yourself up about who you think you used to be.’

‘Thank you,’ I managed to reply after taking a minute to compose myself.

‘And I forgive you.’ He spoke softly this time, but as always with utter sincerity. ‘Even if I was a pompous git, I understood. And I deserved a lot of it. Please forgive yourself.’

I reached over and took hold of Henry’s hand where it rested on his thigh. He wrapped his fingers around mine and held them tight, and that was about all we needed to say on the subject. For now, at least.

20

The whole of the drive had been cleared of snow, so we were able to wind our way up to the Coach House with no problems. The front door opened before we’d come to a complete stop, and dogs, children and everyone else tumbled out into the cold to give as warm a welcome as if we’d been to the North Pole and back.

‘Come in, come in, the food is waiting,’ Mum ordered, tutting.

‘I’m trying!’ I laughed, almost suffocating in Dad’s hug, a tiny niece hanging off one leg and a Labrador bumping up against the other.

‘Can’t we open presents, first?’ Frankie whined as Mum herded us into the dining room, decked out in all its Christmassy splendour. ‘You said when Auntie Bea got here we could open presents.’

‘Yes, well, that was before she decided to take a diversion to a random street party, making us sit and wait for her.’

I glanced at Mia, walking next to me, in alarm. She raised one eyebrow. ‘Your parents get a notification every time someone tags you online. It’s been non-stop.’

‘Since when?’

‘Since yesterday morning. I think Nana Joy’s speech hit home.’

‘I have a very good explanation for the detour.’