Thinking about home got her as far as the bookshop. She would browse for a while, find a nice fat detective novel with which to distract herself. Maybe buy a good bottle of wine, find a tasty dish she could stick in the oven from the ruinously expensive deli Tessa loved, and some mince pies to get into the festive spirit.

The bookshop was crowded and hot. Connie pulled off her gloves and woolly hat and opened the neck of her coat. She began to pick up books at random, taking her time and enjoying the hubbub, the company, the piped carols that filled the air.

She’d been there a while when she was aware of the opening bars of ‘Away In A Manger’. Her eyes filled with tears. Bash’s face swam in front of her: his nursery had sung it at their Nativity last year and all she could see were his dark eyes gazing dreamily from beneath the cotton-wool sheep’s ears Caitlin had made. She found herself pushing past the other shoppers, almost running from the store.

Once on the pavement, she stopped and drew a shaky breath. The cold hit her and she realized she didn’t have her hat or gloves. Cursing under her breath, she turned and went back inside. Where did I leave them? She revisited the various tables over which she’d lingered. But they were nowhere to be seen. In the end she found a girl with a bookshop badge and asked for her help.

‘Come with me. We’ll check if someone’s handed them in,’ the girl said, leading Connie through a door saying Staff Only to a large see-through plastic container sitting in the corridor. Unclipping the lid, she asked, ‘What do they look like?’

‘A green wool hat and brown leather gloves,’ Connie told her. ‘But I’ve only just left the shop. I’m not sure anyone would have had time to hand them in.’

The girl rummaged about, nonetheless, pulling out various hats – none of them green. She looked at Connie. ‘Maybe come back tomorrow. We close at four.’

Outside once more, Connie found she was unreasonably upset by the loss of her hat and gloves. Devan had given her the hat for Christmas two years ago, when things between them were still good and a rift in her marriage was not even a speck on the horizon. She remembered trying it on and Devan taking a photo on his phone, them both laughing and agreeing it suited her perfectly, her husband teasing her that she looked like a mischievous leprechaun, such as his Irish grandmother had warned him about. Losing the hat felt like the last straw.