Was she off out on the town this evening? Maybe she was wearing that stunning blue dress that clung to her in all the right places. He tried to force the image from his mind because it went hand-in-hand with one of men hitting on her and fucksake that knotted his guts.

After a till-bustin’ Christmas Eve at The Three Fishes, Isaac began Christmas Day shattered.

However, he was conscious of a feeling of relief as he scrambled down to the kitchen to begin Christmas lunch. When Lily arrived this morning he could tell her that Hayley was on the road to recovery. His stint caring for her had a cut-off point at last. He’d be alone with Lily this morning. The stainless steel kitchen wasn’t the most romantic of surroundings but he wasn’t going to let that stop him telling her that he wanted to find a way to pursue what they’d begun in Switzerland.

Chef had left him turkey crowns, potatoes – already par-boiled – in the fridge, prepared veggies in bags, cold starters and a list of timings to follow. At the end of last night tables in the dining area had been pushed together to make one large one set with green crackers and red napkins, gold table confetti and white candles.

All he needed now was Lily.

But as ten o’clock passed and then ten thirty, his heart slithered slowly south.

Lily didn’t show.

The turkey crowns went in.

No Lily.

He checked his phone for messages: zip. He tried to call her and found himself talking to her voicemail. Giving way to anxiety, he sent her another text. Lily, are you OK? Please contact me when you get this message. Please call me. I don’t know how to contact your mums or sister to check you’re OK.

He heated the fat in the roasting tins for the potatoes.

Where was she?

He’d just decided to risking interrupting Carola’s Christmas Day to ask if she knew when he opened the dessert fridge and there they were: trays of chocolate mousses and gingerbread people. Slowly, he closed the door and returned dismally to his duties. She’d been and gone, probably yesterday. That must have been what she’d wanted to tell him when she rang.

Crappy Christmas, Isaac. Lily has found something better to do. Maybe when he’d seen her yesterday afternoon she’d been on her way to a hot date. Could be in bed with the man now. A cold sweat beaded his skin and he wished he could call back that sappy text.

Lily had chosen not to be here.

Isaac produced Christmas lunch for twenty people on autopilot. When Flora arrived she helped him while their parents looked after Jeremy and Jasmine at the gaily decorated table. ‘No Lily?’ she asked.

‘Nope,’ he said moodily. Flora didn’t press him for more. She simply kept smiling and ferrying plates and gravy boats.