Quickly and efficiently, he grabbed cushions, swathes of material, hanging lanterns and whatever else he could find and thrust them into the back. He eyed the wooden pallet and decided to leave it. He gave the wooden structure a nudge to check how securely it was in place, immediately thankful that its solidity meant he didn’t have to worry about it falling down and causing more damage.

As he shoved another armful of fancy material into the Jeep, he saw her cast a longing look towards the gazebo and pallet.

‘Don’t even think about it. It’s staying.’

‘But it’s the table and—’

‘I am not putting that in the back.’

‘Please!’

‘No, Lily. This is literally the definition of madness,’ he yelled through to where she sat in the front.

He slammed the Jeep’s back doors shut and walked round to the driver’s seat, getting a face full of frigid rain that was almost horizontal. He launched himself into the car and slammed the door behind him.

Lily was staring mournfully out the window at the gazebo frame.

‘Will it be OK?’ she half shouted over the sounds of the driving rain smashing against the frame and window of the Jeep.

‘It will survive the night,’ he said, having to raise his own voice to be heard.

He looked at her then, shivering beside him, her long hair turned to wet ropes hanging around her face and shoulders. He reached for the air con and turned it up to full, hoping that it would at least take the edge off the cold biting into their skin.

Putting the car into gear, the wheels spun for an excruciating moment before finding purchase and they launched forward onto the path through the forest. Conversation was impossible as the rain continued to drive against the battered old Jeep and Henry expelled a deep breath, not realizing he’d held it locked into his chest until he saw the light over the entrance to the estate.

He got out of the Jeep, silently cursing up a storm in his mind, and when he saw Lily hovering by the boot, he shook his head. ‘I’ll get it later, Lily. Just get inside,’ he commanded, still absolutely brimming with fury that she had risked herself. And for what? A hen party? Some cushions?

Reluctantly she followed him through the front door and he practically pushed her up the stairs to the living room where the fire he’d started earlier that night was now in full swing. She stood in the middle of the room as if unsure what to do now and he cursed. She looked so lost, so miserable. She looked up at him in utter confusion.

‘It can’t be raining. It just can’t be. The hen party—’