‘I think she’s fallen asleep again,’ Frankie whispered, almost loudly enough to wake her back up.

The rest of the day was spent playing with new toys and games, snoozing, reading, a short amble with Dumble and Dash and trying to find room to squeeze in some crackers and cheese on top of dinner.

Having Henry there felt as natural as Nana Joy belting along to Frozen. There were the obvious comments, and pointed glances our way, but I was too happy to be home to care.

Once the youngest and oldest members of the family were tucked up in bed, exhausted after such a busy few days, most of the adults went over to check that everything in the school hall was still ready for the Christmas Spectacular. The pupils had spent the last day of term adding the final decorations and checking that the lighting and sound systems were all set up properly, but with the weather so terrible, and the old building not much better, a quick check was sensible.

For some reason, everyone needed to be there except for Henry and me. I had to admit that I didn’t care what that reason might be. As the day had progressed it had grown harder to ignore the fluttery feelings that had appeared that morning. Every time Henry brushed past me or ended up squashed beside me on the sofa (which, when I thought about it, seemed to happen quite a lot) I had a flashback to waking up beside him that morning, and, rather than fading away, the attraction seemed to be settling in and making itself at home.

Henry was lovely, I mused while cutting us both a piece of chocolate log. He was kind and thoughtful and I could talk to him for hours without getting bored or irritated. And while not being the most important thing, but definitely one to bear in mind – he was here.

So, there were only two reasons for not, as Mrs Lewinski’s neighbour so bluntly put it, wanting him to be my fella.

One: I had no idea how he felt about me. After all, with the exception of the brief crush that he’d well and truly got over, we’d both spent twenty years working very hard at not liking each other.

Two: my parents would never let me hear the end of it, considering it proof (if needed) that they were always right when it came to my life decisions, and I was not.

I was carrying the cake back to the living room when I remembered the third reason.

I was still in love with Adam.

Wasn’t I?

It was only then that I realised he’d not messaged me all day, and more to the point I’d not thought about messaging him.