The fit of laughter takes over and I let out a snort even more embarrassing than the snot bubble earlier. ‘Are you still trying to make me feel better or are you naturally this funny?’

This time, his cheeks definitely turn red, and his hair falls across his face as he looks down. I have a sudden and unexpected urge to tuck it back, and I’ve never had the urge to touch a complete stranger’s hair before.

‘This place means a lot to me. To everyone in Elffield.’ His words are quiet and directed at the floor. ‘And it can’t be brought back to life by someone who doesn’t understand that. And I didn’t think you did.’

‘But you do now?’

‘It’s …’ He pulls his sleeve up and looks at his watch. ‘… Nine o’clock and you’re still here. That’s better than I expected.’ He looks up and grins at me, his eyes flashing with the reflection of the red glow from the heater. ‘We both want the same thing. I’d love nothing more than to see Peppermint Branches up and running as a Christmas tree farm again. So would every villager in Elffield. Judging by tonight, so would you.’

I’ve got to admit, there is something about this place. The way I felt when I saw that auction listing for the first time … that feeling I got when I leant on the gate and looked out at the trees in the distance … I kind of understand what he’s talking about.

‘How come you have so much camping gear?’ I ask in an attempt to change the subject because the idea of every villager in Elffield being invested in what I do here is a bit unsettling. ‘Do you go camping a lot?’

‘Nah, I had some problems with teenagers getting into my land and lighting fires over the summer. They burned down half my sweetcorn so I decided to play them at their own game and sleep out there for a few nights.’ He waves a hand in the general direction of the fields across the road. ‘Caught them red-handed, and they didn’t come back.’

‘Sounds terrifying.’

‘Aye, for them. You’ve never caught sight of me in the middle of the night without a coffee in me. Believe me, they thought they’d found the three-way lovechild of Nessie, a sasquatch, and a scarecrow.’

‘Okay, another question. The last owner … his name wasn’t seriously Evergreene, was it?’

He snorts like he didn’t expect that question. ‘It was. I’m not sure what came first, the name or the tree farm though. The first trees were planted by his great-great grandfather. I think there was some controversy along the line when his great-grandmother married and refused to take her husband’s name, unheard of in those days, but you can’t own a Christmas tree farm and give up the name Evergreene, can you?’