Two new people running it now, both men: Ferdy and Elvis. Yes, Elvis was his real name, as he told everybody as soon as he introduced himself. They’d ‘done a refurb’ and the red-patterned carpet was a thing of the past. Wood flooring had been laid in front of the bar, multi-coloured tiles in the dining area and grey carpet in the rest. Lily thought the carpet looked as if someone had shaded it with a pencil in a way her art teacher used to call ‘hatching’. There were more gambling machines and a bigger telly. Of the bar staff Lily had worked with, only Tina, Vita and Flora remained.

Lily could hear Carola telling Elvis and Ferdy about last winter’s trip to Switzerland and the Middletones. Warwick and Eddie were at uni now, Alfie working in Bristol and Franciszka, though still seeing Neil occasionally, had moved out of the village to be near her sister in Peterborough so, judging from their baffled expressions, Elvis and Ferdy weren’t completely following the tale.

Owen was holding Carola’s hand and listening, a role he’d settled into well. Lily knew they were incredibly happy together, especially now Duncan had found another job in London. He’d only moved into Carola’s basement for nine months and now it was once again an Airbnb.

Lily let her mind return to last winter and all it had brought. Roma and Patsie’s break-up, which, to Lily’s immense sadness, had proved permanent.

Zinnia and George’s house fire. Their baby daughter, Leonie, was now eight months old. Lily saw a lot of her and found she loved being an aunt and was a willing babysitter. Playing with her niece, bathing her and getting her ready for bed never felt like a chore. Leonie thought Doggo was the funniest thing on the planet. As Doggo had a similarly high opinion of his charms, they played together beautifully.

Hayley, currently cancer-free, had returned to heading up the casino in Peterborough, which was even more swanky than before. She turned up every week for a Doggo-date.

But by far the most important thing that had happened in Lily’s life last winter had been Isaac.

She checked her phone. No messages. Peeped behind the curtains – grey linen now, not red velvet – and shaded her eyes so she could see through the glass. Snowflakes were wafting down like the fall-out from a gigantic pillow fight. Four inches of snow lay on the ground and British road and transport systems were grinding to a halt. Isaac had called hours ago to say he was stuck on the M6 with hardly any phone battery and he’d broken the lead to his in-car charger. Since then nothing, so his battery must have died.

It seemed ridiculous to worry about a fully-fledged instructor in bracing outdoorsy stuff and survival training, but Lily was anxious nonetheless.