‘Oh my god, is this him?’ Chelsea says loudly, fanning a hand in front of her face. ‘You said Luke Evans, you didn’t say Dracula Untold-style flaming gorgeous Luke Evans multiplied by a thousand degrees of hotness.’ She turns to him before I can even introduce them all properly. ‘Please say murder.’

Noel laughs enough to cover his blush and obliges, deliberately elongating the Rs, and Chelsea makes him teach Lewis how to say it properly.

‘It’s beautiful up here.’ She sips her hot chocolate as she looks around. ‘I’d be disappointed if it was a vineyard on the French Riviera now. This is much better.’

If that’s not a cracking endorsement, I don’t know what is.

‘And now you know it must be special because no one’s ever heard me saying I prefer anything over wine before.’

I hug her again before she and Lewis go off to wander around and meet Gizmo, Glenna, and everyone else.

Noel wraps his arms around me from behind, pulls me against his chest and we stand there watching the comings and goings of customers and Christmas trees.

‘They’d be proud,’ he whispers in my ear.

I know who he’s talking about without him saying it. And for the first time since they died, I think they would. I can imagine Mum here, serving hot chocolate and dishing up roasted chestnuts from the oven, and Dad would be in his element stomping around amongst the Christmas trees, talking the ears off of anyone who’d listen about the pros and cons of different species. I never thought losing them would lead to something positive, but I know that this is what they’d have wanted in their absence.

Noel squeezes me as tight as he can without jogging the cups in both our hands, and I lean back and reach up to kiss his cheek.

‘Thank you,’ I whisper against his skin, warmed by the sun despite the chill in the air.

‘Thank you, beautiful,’ he murmurs back. ‘You’ve changed my life too.’

He suddenly stops and turns us sharply towards the caravan, or more specifically, towards the two pensioners lurking at the edge of it. ‘I told you we’d catch them snogging behind the bike sheds one day.’

Glenna’s taken over from Fiona on the food and drink in the caravan, and Fergus has given up trying to foist mince pies onto unsuspecting customers when our backs are turned – and the two of them have stopped for a tea break, except there’s not much drinking-of-tea going on, but there is quite a bit of kissing.

I turn into his chest to muffle the squeal and he’s almost bouncing up and down with joy.

‘It’s taken them long enough,’ he whispers.