I probably should have asked him a question back, out of Christmassy politeness, but I was home for the first time in months and I wasn’t about to spend it making monotonous chit-chat with a possible cyborg when I could be having fun with my family, who I actually liked. I leant towards Elana and asked her about the new play she was starring in at her drama school, ignoring Mum’s irritation as her well-thought-out plan began to shrivel.

It was harder than it should have been to ignore the man sitting next to me, however.

Henry still seemed a bit odd, and still wore a perfectly knotted brown tie over a beige shirt that looked as stiff as his shoulders, but there was a reason it had taken me a moment to recognise him.

‘You look different,’ I blurted, after the kids had got distracted with a debate about who got to sleep on which identical inflatable mattress.

He paused, a fork bearing a cube of carrot hovering in mid-air. ‘It’s my hair.’

It was partly his hair, which instead of resembling a Lego helmet had now been cut much shorter at the sides than the top. It had darkened over the years, too, from a mousy brown to rich chestnut.

‘You’re right. I think one of them might actually be out of place there.’

He automatically reached up and ran a hand over the top of his head before realising I was joking. Giving a short shake of his head, he almost smiled again, his gaze pointedly resting on my own matted mess.

‘And the contact lenses,’ he added, after a strangely lingering moment.

‘Yes, of course.’ For the first time since I’d arrived, our eyes met. I’d probably never seen him without a pair of enormous, ugly glasses on. If asked, I’d have guessed his eyes were the same nondescript sort of brown as his hair, but in fact they were a startling shade of blue – almost aqua – and framed by the type of thick lashes that some women paid good money for.

‘The new look’s nice. A definite improvement.’

Henry’s eyes widened for a split second, the tops of his ears turning pink as he acknowledged the compliment with a nod before quickly turning all of his attention to his meal.

If I’m honest, nice was an understatement. I felt relieved when Mia leant past Mum to ask me how work was going, so I had an excuse to turn away again. The hair and the contact lenses were only part of Henry’s transformation. A round baby face had sharpened to reveal cheekbones and a firm jaw smattered with stubble.

Somehow, through some bizarre quirk of fate, he’d ended up not bad-looking.

It was most disconcerting, and perhaps Mum wasn’t so wrong about me being flustered after all.

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