I give him a scathing look because he’s nowhere near as funny as he thinks he is. I’m going to go on Amazon and order every book on Christmas tree farming I can find and fork out for next-day delivery, but he’s been more helpful than anything else so far and he clearly knows his stuff. He might think I’m an idiot, but I really need his advice. ‘That’d be great. As long as you’re bringing Gizmo.’

The little dog stands on my foot and I reach down to rub his ears as he wags his tail.

‘Of course. You’re honoured to see him at this time of day. Gizmo doesn’t do mornings, but he couldn’t wait to come over and see you.’ We hold each other’s gaze again, until Noel shakes his head and turns away. ‘He was probably worried that the squirrel might’ve come back and terrorised you overnight, or that you might’ve terrorised it.’

I narrow my eyes to show him just how unfunny I think he is, and he and Gizmo wait while I phone the two numbers he gave me and set up accounts with the water and electricity companies, who assure me the supply of both will be restored this morning. I’m not sure what I’m more excited about – light and water or the prospect of finally seeing some Christmas trees on this Christmas tree farm.

***

‘Welcome to Peppermint Branches.’ Noel unlatches a wooden gate at the end of the lane past the house and holds it open for me to go through. We disappear into a line of tall conifer trees, and in front of us is a wooden sign with directional arrows bearing names of tree species. Nordmann fir, Norway spruce, Peppermint fir, Blue spruce, Balsam fir. I reach out to touch the arrow signs, the words burnt into the wood in fancy writing. We’re in a grassy central area behind the conifers where wide tracks meet, one from the left and one from the right, and one back through the gate to the lane we’ve just come down. Through the tree trunks, I can see the first hint of a Christmas tree farm. I squeal in delight and that starts Gizmo off barking, and he pulls on his lead to chase after whatever unseen thing he thinks I’m squealing at.

‘I guess we’re going this way.’ Noel laughs as he lets himself be pulled along by the tiny dog. ‘Nordmann firs coming up.’