She didn’t want sisterly help so she sent the women into the dining room to set the table and make it festive, the children into the den to watch telly – an illicit treat in the daytime for those particular ones. The men she sent down to the cellar to sort out wine. They could spend a happy time there discussing what her parents had bought over the years and if any of it was still decent.

When she heard the doorbell ring she was surprised but delighted to find Edward on the doorstep, his arms full of carrier bags. Not that she’d thought about him all morning. She’d gone for quite long spells – as much as ten minutes at a time – without giving him a thought.

It was hard to decide if he was actually more attractive than she’d remembered him or if he just seemed more attractive because she thought she’d made him up anyway. In her head she’d just made him a keen cook and didn’t allow him long legs or a quirky smile or anything else he seemed to have in reality.

‘Hello! I didn’t think you’d come!’ she said, instantly aware it made her sound terribly needy.

‘I didn’t think you’d be here. I thought I’d find the house empty and shuttered, or sold and half-converted.’

They laughed awkwardly. ‘Come in,’ said Evie. ‘Happy Christmas.’

He put down the large number of carrier bags he had with him. ‘Happy Christmas.’ He bent and kissed her cheek.

Evie flushed, hoping he’d just think it was slaving over a hot stove that made her so pink, and very glad she had dressed carefully for Christmas Day and was looking OK.

‘Come into the kitchen. Let me get you a drink.’ She didn’t say, ‘come quickly before the family see you,’ although she wanted to.

The kitchen was fairly tidy, in that the table was only partly covered in potatoes, carrots, parsnips and sprouts, some half-made stuffing and various attempts at vegetarian options.

‘Oh, so you had a go yourself then,’ said Edward, seeing the soaking bulgur wheat and the tofu, still in its bag. A packet of alfalfa looked very like duck weed.

‘I had to. In case.’

He didn’t ask ‘in case what.’ ‘Well, as I had the time I made a dish all ready. You just need to put it in the oven.’

Evie, who’d had her breakfast champagne without the sobering effects of orange juice embraced him. ‘You’re an angel!’

Just then the eldest child came in. Luke was ten. ‘Oh, Auntie Evie. Hey, everyone, Aunt Evie’s got a man in the kitchen!’