‘I can put up with the bottom-feeders if it means we save Charis House.’

It might not mean that, but she was determined to give it a try.

We called Jed and told him our idea before I dialled the number on Henry’s card. My heart would have been somewhere in my mouth, but it was so weighed down with love and pride for my incredible family, it had to stay right where it belonged.

I had another call to make, but, things being complicated enough, I waited until Henry had dropped me home.

‘Hey, how are you?’ Adam seemed totally unfazed that I’d called him on the brink of midnight. He’d sent me a few messages throughout the evening about nothing much, to which I’d sent a brief reply that Nana Joy had been discharged and I’d speak to him properly later on.

‘Yeah, it’s been an eventful day.’

Without going into any detail about how or why – I was far too tired for a long conversation – I explained that we were launching a campaign to save Charis House. We were hoping he could help…

‘How long have we got?’

‘I’m being interviewed tomorrow, printed the day after, New Year’s Eve, so we’ll need to be ready for the TV shows by then.’

‘No problem. It’ll be ready.’

‘Are you sure? I know you’re a perfectionist when it comes to music.’

‘Bea. Charis House – your parents – you – saved my life. It’s about time I returned the favour.’

There was nothing to do now until morning except worry, panic, freak out, and pray that this plan would be enough.

I took Mia’s fashion advice and went full ‘Bea’ the following morning. It was 30 December, still well within the acceptable date range for Christmas accessories, but I wanted the pictures to be hanging around far beyond the season, so I went for my favourite dress, printed for me by the husband of a local conservationist who I’d interviewed on several occasions. It had a bright blue background, covered in weather symbols and finished off with a rainbow belt. I added a pair of mustard tights to complement the suns and laced up a pair of boots crafted by a Sherwood Forest designer, Grace Tynedale, embroidered with tiny leaves, nuts, and woodland berries.