I stop in surprise and Noel crashes right into me when Gizmo reaches the end of his leash and yanks Noel with him.

‘Sorry,’ he murmurs, backing away.

This field is different. There are no weeds. Instead, the perfectly cone-shaped trees are planted in tidy rows on a bed of neat moss. Each one has a circular shape of bare earth underneath it, and the sharp, sweet and refreshing scent of Christmas trees fills the air.

‘Someone’s been taking care of these,’ I say, although it’s blatantly obvious who that is.

He bends down to unhook Gizmo’s lead and the Chihuahua bounces across the moss like he’s done it many times before. ‘This is Evergreene’s life’s work. He was attempting to create the perfect Christmas tree by making a hybrid of all the best. They’ve got the shape of a Norway spruce, the needle retention of a Fraser fir, the branch strength of a Nordmann fir, the colour of a cross between a Blue spruce and a White spruce, and the scent of a Balsam fir, the most desirable and traditional Christmas tree scent.’

‘He bred these?’ My feet press into the spongy moss as I walk across to the nearest tree and run my fingers over one of its stiff branches, surprised by the softness of the needles.

He nods. ‘From years and years of grafts, splicing seeds, and cross-pollinating.’ I feel his eyes on me as I look at the tree. ‘Strong branches for holding ornaments but needles that are soft to the touch and won’t fall out.’

I inhale the scent from the branch and close my eyes, instantly transported back to Christmas in my parents’ living room, sitting next to a tree that smelled like this, tearing wrapping paper off Barbie dolls and Polly Pockets that I’d been wanting for months. Lying on the floor beside it in the afternoon, full from Mum’s Christmas dinner, playing Monopoly with cousins while grandparents from both sides of the family dozed in front of the Queen’s speech.

‘It’s got a lot of water retained in its trunk, so it won’t die if people forget to water it. Its roots are neat so it transplants easily. It won’t grow beyond eight foot so it remains manageable. We did surveys for years asking everyone what they wanted in a Christmas tree, what annoyed them most about the ones they’d had, what they’d liked, what they hadn’t, and what they’d like to be different.’

‘They’re beautiful.’ I run my fingers over the soft needles even though I can’t take my eyes off Noel. He lights up when he talks about trees.