But of course, she wasn’t the only person who would be partaking in the Armstrong New Year’s Eve Legendary Grand Tournament. While the need to be with my family was deep, the desire to see Henry, to look him in the eye and see what I found there, to know whether there was any part of him that felt the same way as I did, was deeper.

Having accepted how I felt, I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep, eat, or stop this frenzied fidgeting until I knew.

It was the longest taxi ride ever. Even the late-night shipping forecast wasn’t enough to settle my nerves.

Finally, we pulled up beside the Coach House, where I flung myself out of the car and up to the front door.

‘Okay,’ I muttered. ‘What do I do now?’

‘Sweet-Bea!’ Dad cried, answering my question as he opened the door in a flurry of ecstatic dogs and the warm glow of home. ‘This is the best possible surprise! Come in, come in, let me take your coat and we’ll find you a drink.’

After hugging me as though it had been months, not hours, he propelled me towards the living room. Standing in the doorway, I had to lean against the frame, almost overcome with emotion.

Mia and Jed were curled up on the smallest sofa, limbs entwined and paper hats tilted towards each other. They’d fully embraced the Grand Tournament historical-themed dress code, in spotty bow tie and a champagne flapper dress. Elana was sprawled beside the waning fire, her outfit a WRENs uniform from the Second World War. While I hovered in the doorway, the dogs squeezed past me and went to curl up with their chins in her lap.

Mum was standing beside the sparkling Christmas tree, her sixties shift dress covered in tinsel, baubles, and other decorations dangling from every possible body part, a gold star balanced on top of her beehive wig.

In the oldest, cosiest armchair was Nana Joy. Daisy and Frankie had squeezed in on either side of her. Frankie held two more baubles, while Daisy was resting her head on Nana Joy’s shoulder, absent-mindedly twirling a lock of her great-grandmother’s wispy hair.

And on the largest sofa, with a vast, lonely space beside him, sat Henry. My heart nearly scrabbled out of my chest at the sight of him, looking completely ridiculous in billowing shirt-sleeves, lavender waistcoat, dark-brown trousers tucked into riding boots and, of all things, a top hat, as if he’d dressed up as Mr Darcy. Two weeks ago I might have considered his attire ridiculous. This evening, he was perfect.

Perfect for me, anyway.

‘Bea, finally, we thought you’d never make it!’ Mum cried, trying to keep her head steady so nothing fell off, ending the game.