‘No problem. How has your day been?’

‘Good. I managed to clear all the junk from the bedrooms before I popped over to Janet Dyer’s house for lunch and a catch up.’

‘Isn’t she the one you used to be friends with at school?’

‘That’s right. She’s a great source of information for me because she knows the whats and wheres that I’ve missed since I’ve been away. She does have a tendency to get caught up in the village drama, though, and some people think she’s too loud and opinionated, but she’s helped me through some tough times in the past, and she’s a softie at heart.’

‘She sounds interesting,’ James said.

‘She is. Actually, I’m thinking about inviting her over tomorrow for a cuppa. I want to show her what we’re doing to the house and also give her some distraction. She’s a single mum and her ex-husband is picking her two boys up in the morning and taking them to spend Christmas with him and his new partner in Carlisle.’

‘Then I look forward to meeting her.’

‘I’m sure you’ll like her,’ Annie said. ‘Meanwhile, you drive carefully coming home. I’ve made a cottage pie for you and it’s ready to be put straight in the oven.’

‘Terrific. Love you lots and see you later.’

‘You too, sweetheart.’

One thing James didn’t miss about London was the traffic. Driving in the capital was a nightmare, and many streets seemed to be in a permanent state of gridlock.

By comparison, getting from Kendal to Kirkby Abbey was a breeze. He headed east along the A684, crossed over the M6, and then north up the A683.

The roads took him through some of the UK’s most beautiful countryside, lying between the Lake District and Yorkshire Dales National Parks. Of course, at this time of night he couldn’t see much, as the darkness stretched into the distance on both sides.

It was just after six when he arrived at the village, one of the smallest in the area with a population of just over seven hundred.

He drove past the small Catholic church and The White Hart pub, and turned left at the village store. He then skirted the small square where they held the monthly Saturday farmers’ market, and passed through the residential area that was crammed with quaint, stone-built houses.

Their detached home was a short walk from the tiny primary school where Annie worked and had a driveway and a paved front garden. There were other detached houses either side, and across the road was a gated entrance to a field that offered stunning views of the distant peaks.

James parked up and saw that Annie had left the lights on in their two-storey house. As he climbed out of his Audi, he was once again struck by how quiet the place was. It was another aspect of life here in Cumbria that he still hadn’t yet got used to.

He was approaching the front door when he noticed that a parcel had been left on the step. It was about the size of a shoebox and wrapped in Christmas paper.