‘I could say the same thing to you,’ I retort. I won’t let him pin this on me when he’s clearly not himself, either. We’re bringing each other down with the negative vibes in the air.

‘There’s little point wasting our time, Fern. This isn’t happening tonight, is it?’

I nod in agreement. ‘My head is so full of stuff right now.’

‘With Christmas just two days away, it must be hard for you. Is this the first time you haven’t been together as a family to celebrate?’

I dip my brush in the jar of water and swish it around, extracting it and mopping up the moisture vigorously with the rag. Tonight, we ought to feel jolly; the second batch of visitors left yesterday, and it was another successful week under the new regime. We’re closed until the seventh of January now, albeit there are going to be some in-house training sessions. Even Ceana opted not to go home to Scotland for the holidays.

The snow hasn’t helped, although it isn’t too bad here, merely a light dusting over the sheltered forest plateau. Further afield, though, travel has been a real problem. Maybe one or two of the others would have made an effort to be with their extended families, but no one seemed unduly upset about it. This is where we feel comfortable right now.

‘Yes. Hannah is in Austria and Owen is back from his two-week stint overseas and on holiday in Newquay with a group of his army pals. Aiden is counting down the days until he heads off to Thailand. Mum and Dad are snowed in with relatives in Wales, which wasn’t a part of their plan, so even if I was at home, I’d be on my own. But it doesn’t seem real somehow.’

Nico eases himself up off his stool and beckons me. ‘For a natural-born worrier that’s a harsh lesson to learn – that the people you love can function without you fussing over them. They might not be quite so comfortable having to sort themselves out, but they’ll cope. Come. I have something to show you.’

I pull the baggy T-shirt over my head, careful not to get any fresh smears of paint on my pristine jumper. Smoothing down my hair, I walk across to follow Nico out through the studio door and into the hallway.

It’s so quiet and dark, he uses his phone to light our way, tapping it whenever it begins to fade. Suddenly he diverts into the kitchen, rummaging around to find a candle and some matches.

‘Candlelight? There are no guests at the moment, remember?’ I muse.

‘We need our eyes to be accustomed to the dark. You’ll see why, in a moment. Here, we’ll take one each.’