I offered a rueful smile. ‘All of them apart from two. Oh, and your parents. Four.’

‘Are you joking? My parents thought the idea was catastrophic.’

‘You’re not serious? Do Mum and Dad know that?’

‘That scar that my dad has on his forehead?’

I nodded, my mouth half hanging open. ‘Dad didn’t punch him?’

Henry grinned. ‘Your mum cracked him on the skull with a cricket bat. She swears it was an accident, but you and I both know that your mum has better aim than a precision laser.’

‘So, what you’re saying is that madcap schemes run in the family?’

‘Or, I’m saying that sometimes it’s worth taking a huge risk for something that means so much to you, even if other people might consider it to be foolish and irresponsible.’

‘Do you think this is foolish and irresponsible?’

Henry kept his eyes firmly on the road. ‘Would I be driving you there if I did?’

The answer to that, I’d realised after spending the past week with him, was probably yes.

We opted for one of those ‘healthy’, home-made burger restaurants, a half-mile detour off the M1. I wanted quick, easy, yet not too grim, and a cranberry and chestnut burger on flatbread with sprout salad and parsnip fries was perfect.

‘Looks like the kind of thing your mum would make.’

I laughed. ‘This is my equivalent of childhood comfort food.’

‘Glad you’re feeling more comfortable.’

The truth was, that had a lot more to do with being with Henry than it did about the food. Although the festive atmosphere did help: the cosy booth we were sitting in was surrounded by groups of people laughing and chattering, Christmas lights twinkled, and a real fire provided a warm glow. An upbeat tune jingled in the background, and my feet couldn’t resist tapping along.

‘Ready to talk about where we’re headed?’ Henry had waited until I’d nearly finished eating before interrupting the good cheer with a blunt reminder of why we were here.

‘Not really. But I suppose I’ll end up regretting it if we don’t.’ I put the remains of my burger down, my appetite swiftly vanishing. ‘What do I say if he’s there?’

‘What do you want to say?’

‘I want to ask him whether he could be the father of Joy Papplewick’s child. Whether he knows that he is, and if so where the hell has he been? Everything else depends on his answer.’

Henry patiently waited while I spent the next few minutes going over my rambling thoughts, winding myself into a tighter and tighter knot until I was back on the brink of a full-on freak-out.

‘Hey,’ he interrupted eventually, his voice firm. ‘Take a breath.’

‘I can’t remember how,’ I rasped.