I hug her again, and then I maul Kevin who has big welling tears in his eyes at the mention of his unborn son while Jack gives me a look that pleads with me if it can be us next. He doesn’t know yet, but I’ve some very exciting Christmas news for him that I’m saving for the day itself. I can’t wait to see his face.

Also, I’ve some amazing updates from a lady called Dianna Thompson from Moville Records in London who wants to hear more of my songs after I sent her some samples, having found her details on the back of Tom Farley’s note that day. Looks like Tom was right about one thing – maybe I will end up hearing my songs on the radio one day soon.

Sophie and Harry are next to arrive, with Harry carrying their new six-month-old puppy Rufus like he is made of gold, and I tilt my head to the side and open out my arms to welcome them. Harry hands me the pup on his way past, which is not what I was expecting, while Sophie comes behind him, struggling with their older two pets, Milo and Jess.

‘Give me triplets any day,’ jokes Harry as he marches down the hallway. ‘I swear I’m ready for a beer and a chat with Jack about sport and women and anything but animals. I’m not sure I can clean up after any more dogs. I’m off duty, it’s official.’

Sophie kisses me on the cheek and rolls her eyes as her husband disappears into the kitchen.

‘My mother is absolutely fuming that we got another dog,’ she giggles, her mischievous face reminding me why I love her so much. ‘I’m not sorry, Char, I’m really not even one bit. I just can’t make someone else happy when it’s not what I want myself.’

She lets the dogs loose and they go bounding into the sitting room, much to Emily and Kevin’s delight where they ruffle and play with them on the sofa. Mam and Dad are running late, but when they do arrive Dad confesses how they stopped in with Mary at the art gallery to pick up my Christmas present, which he’s been saving up for months now. I don’t have to ask what it is as I can tell from the size and shape, but my dad’s excitement and the look of pride on his face that he managed to buy a real, original piece of art tells me I need to open it straight away.

We go into the kitchen and I lay the painting down on the table, and then carefully begin to unwrap the paper which Mary has securely taped to keep it safe on the short journey up the hill.

‘Oh Dad, if this is what I think it is!’