‘No,’ I laughed, ‘of course not! Were you when you wiped my face?’

‘No,’ he insisted, ‘no.’

‘There you are then,’ I said, even managing a nonchalant shrug.

‘Oh god,’ he groaned, running both hands through his hair this time. ‘I really thought . . . oh my god, this is so embarrassing.’

‘It’s fine,’ I said, feeling a sharp prickle of guilt.

It really wasn’t fair to turn the tables on him, but I didn’t know what else to do.

‘No, it’s not,’ he said, sounding mortified. ‘Whatever must you think?’

‘Nothing,’ I shrugged again, hanging the shepherd on the rail. ‘It was nothing, just crossed wires. Forget it.’

‘I’m an idiot.’

‘No,’ I said, ‘you most definitely are not.’

‘Well,’ he said, clearing his throat, ‘I’m sorry. I was wrong and I hope I haven’t made you feel awkward. That was certainly not my intention.’

‘You haven’t,’ I said, ‘it’s fine. I promise. Let’s forget it.’

‘Are you sure? You must think I’m a right arrogant prick.’

‘I really don’t,’ I said, as the door began to open, ‘let’s say no more about it.’

‘Now here you two are,’ said Dolly, stepping into the room and eyeing us curiously. ‘We were wondering where you’d got to. If you don’t hurry up there won’t be any mince pies left.’

*

Dolly and I weren’t expected in school the next day and it was a relief to think that I would be able to go to bed and not have to set an alarm on a weekday. Don’t get me wrong, I was enjoying my time in school, in spite of the incident in the art room, but getting up in the dark during my holidays was not my favourite thing to do.

‘The play was wonderful, wasn’t it?’ I said to Dolly that evening as I replayed some of the most memorable moments out in my head.

‘A total triumph,’ she agreed, as she settled down with her knitting. ‘But given the amount of work which went into it, it couldn’t have been anything but. I don’t think I can remember a more intense year of planning and preparation.’

I wasn’t sure if it was all that different to any other year, or if my friend’s advancing years were catching up with her. She had certainly yawned more than I had that evening and I was feeling pretty zonked myself.

‘And how are you looking forward to the tour of Wynthorpe Hall tomorrow?’ I asked, picking up the Christmas Wish List.

We still had a way to go to complete it, which was just as well given my seasonal spirit was still struggling to burst into flame. The play had produced another spark, but with so many other things to worry about crammed into my head, it hadn’t caught light yet.