I push myself up from where I’ve landed on top of him and get to my feet. ‘It’s snowing!’

He sits up on the quickly whitening grass and looks at me, a smile playing around his lips. ‘You act like you’ve never seen snow before.’

‘I lived in the centre of London, Noel. It’s a rare sight. We don’t even get it when the rest of the UK does.’ I reach out my hand and haul him up. ‘I knew there’d be snow here!’

‘Well, this is Scotland, we do get snow.’

‘Oh, stop trying to be grumpy. It’s the first snow on a Christmas tree farm. Anyone would be excited.’ My feet crunch into the thin layer of freshly fallen white stuff covering the short grass outside the barn, and the few pumpkins that remain on the vines in Noel’s fields are stark orange against their white carpets and the increasing white hats atop their green leaves.

I skip around him, kicking up what little snow has settled so it looks like he’s standing in a summoning circle before I turn my head to the sky and stick my tongue out, trying to catch a few snowflakes.

‘How could anyone be grumpy around you?’ he murmurs, and the affection in his voice makes me stop and look at him. He shakes himself. ‘Apart from Gizmo, obviously. He hates getting his feet cold.’

We both look over at the barn, where Gizmo is sitting in the doorway shivering, looking between us and then longingly back at his basket. The expression on his face leaves no doubt that he thinks we’re a pair of complete lunatics.

I hear Noel move behind me, and I really should have realised what he’s doing, but I don’t until a snowball hits me in the back.

I squeal in surprise. ‘You didn’t!’

His eyes are watering with laughter and I immediately start scraping snow up to make my own, lobbing it at him and giggling when he ducks easily. I grab another handful and throw that one in his general direction and miss, until he stands still, letting me get a hit in, and laughing harder as it still sails past him. He’s laughing so hard he almost can’t see to gather another handful of snow, compacting it properly into a ball and holding it up, giving me a chance to prepare myself, and this time, I manage to duck at the right moment and it hits the side of the barn, breaking apart and sending snow scattering in all directions. Some of it lands near Gizmo’s feet, and he looks at it disdainfully and plods back inside to the safety of his cosy basket.