‘Aaargh!’ I decide a battlecry will help as I swoosh the knife down the edge, determined to nip at least a few surplus bits off, unlike the last attempt in which I took a huge chunk out of the poor undeserving tree but somehow managed to avoid all the bits that should have come off. This time, what actually happens is that I miss the tree completely, and the knife slices down and thwacks blade-first into my shin pad. Maybe they weren’t such a bad idea after all.

When I look up, Noel’s bent double with laughter. I raise an eyebrow because it’s not that funny, and eventually he stands up and throws both of his knives onto the ground. ‘Come on, we’re going to have to do the Ghost thing.’

‘I don’t think pottery is going to help in this situation.’

‘I don’t think anything’s going to help in this situation.’ His boots make imprints in the freshly weeded earth as he walks towards me. ‘It’s no wonder these trees need to drown their sorrows. Poor buggers. Look what you’ve done to that one.’

He points out my first attempt from earlier, in which I aimed the knife the wrong way and embedded it directly into the heart of the unsuspecting tree’s trunk.

‘Right, c’mere.’ He steps up behind me and the closeness sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with Christmas tree shearing. ‘Okay to touch you?’

I nod, afraid that if I try to talk, it’ll come out as ‘ahrumguurrgh’ or something that makes equal sense.

His chest presses against my back and his hands slide over the protective pads on my arms until his skin touches mine and his fingers cover my hands. He squeezes gently in a way that I’m sure has nothing to do with tree cutting as his elbows fit underneath mine and he somehow uses the strength of his arms to pull me closer. Every inch of his body wraps around me and his chin lands on my shoulder, his barely-there stubble brushing against the side of my neck, and I wish that his bodywarmer wasn’t there because it provides a padded barrier between us.

And that aftershave. I have never met a man who smells so good. An earthy mix of juniper and dark patchouli, with a hint of cinnamon that smells different depending on whether he’s warm or cold.

He’s murmuring something about the knife in my ear but I haven’t heard a word of it, and it strikes me that maybe I shouldn’t spend quite so much time thinking about his aftershave.