‘I don’t need him.’ I watch the fence slowly sag under the weight of the roof. ‘I bought this place because I wanted to run a Christmas tree farm, not because I had a sexy neighbour to help me. Nothing has changed from when I got here. I’ve already learnt loads – enough to get me through the first Christmas season, and then I’ll have plenty of time in January to learn what to do in the spring. I’ve got farmhands working for me now. I can put a trailer on my car and deliver trees to customers and transport them to the market. Stall leases will open up in the new year, and Fergus and Fiona are bound to have their ears to the ground about that one, so if I can get in quick enough then I’ll have my own stall. I don’t need him.’ I say it again for emphasis but I’m not sure which one of us I’m trying to convince. I was out of my depth six weeks ago, but I’m not now. I don’t need him, but it’s been nice to have him, and not just because he’s full of advice and he’s not entirely disagreeable to look at. It’s because he makes me laugh. He makes me feel special. He catches my eyes across the busy market and it makes me feel like we’re the only two people there. It’s because his kisses are so gentle but so full of passion and need and desire, and his hugs are something that should be sold as a cure for all the world’s ills, the way his arms wrap around me and squeeze just a little bit too tight and linger for just a little bit too long – just long enough to make me feel like the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

I don’t realise I’m crying until tears drip onto the unit.

No wonder I swore off men before I got here. This sort of thing doesn’t happen if you stay single.

Chelsea must hear me sniffle because she does that changing the subject thing when she isn’t really sure whether I want to change the subject or whether she should let me cry for a bit. We’ve had many conversations like this since my parents died. ‘I wish I was closer. I’d buy a tree for every room and proudly tell everyone that my best friend grew them.’

I half-snort and half-laugh at the idea of Chelsea having a tree in each of her miniscule rooms. ‘At this stage, the trees are anything from five to ten years old. I didn’t have anything to do with growing them this time around. I’ve got my predecessor, Mr Evergreene, to thank for that.’