‘Not at all?’ Lily asked, screwing up her forehead at the idea that someone might completely eschew Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and all the rest.

‘He told me he’s an intensely private person and just didn’t put himself online more than he had to. He didn’t like exposing his life to things he couldn’t see, administered by people he didn’t know.’ Carola groaned. ‘And I believed it! I’ve been ghosted, haven’t I?’

Isaac passed her a clean napkin from a nearby table because she’d soaked the one she held. ‘If that’s what’s happened, it’s nothing you’ve done. People who ghost are manipulative cowards who use others.’

‘And he did seem like a nice guy,’ commiserated Lily. ‘What do you know about his ex-wife?’

Carola pulled a grumpy face. ‘She could be gun-toting, pregnant and pissed off – and not ex! – for all I know.’ A tiny sob escaped her. ‘It’s not just that I feel stupid, although I do feel stupid. It’s that I really developed feelings for him. I’m hurt.’

‘I know.’ Lily slid her good arm around Carola’s shoulders but whatever else she’d been about to say was interrupted by Warwick hurrying in.

‘Um, Carola,’ he began, out of breath. ‘Emily’s like, fallen out of a tree.’

Isaac stared at the younger guy. As interruptions went it was a floorer but Carola just jumped to her feet and said, ‘Where is she?’ Grabbing up more clean napkins on the way she raced out after Warwick.

‘For crying out loud,’ Lily muttered. ‘Better go and see if we can help.’

They charged outside, finding Emily coming the other way being cuddled by Carola and moaned at by Charlotte. Eddie and Alfie brought up the rear, looking as if the contretemps was nothing to do with them.

‘She’s scraped her face but she’s OK otherwise,’ Carola reported, clearly in mum mode, despite her own tears of only seconds ago. ‘Why on earth would you climb a big tree in the dark, Emily?’

Emily sniffed.

Charlotte spoke for her. ‘She wanted some freaking mistletoe, didn’t she? She thought if she had some then—’

‘Shut up!’ Emily hissed, turning to glare at her sister.

Charlotte gave her a supercilious smile. ‘I was just going to say perhaps you wanted someone to kiss you.’

Emily began to cry. ‘And, Mum, I landed in cow poo. I’ve got poo on my leggings and poo on my Converse. And my face really, really stings!’

By then they were back in the foyer of the hotel and Isaac winced when he saw the raw scrape on Emily’s cheek with smears of green lichen all around it. ‘It needs cleaning up. Let’s talk to the guy in the bar and see if there’s a First Aid kit.’