‘I can’t wait,’ she smiled. ‘I bet it’s going to be amazing and I’ve heard that Dorothy’s afternoon teas are legendary so we won’t have to worry about cooking dinner tomorrow night.’

‘I’m looking forward to meeting the folk who live there as much as getting a peek inside the place,’ I told her, which was true. ‘What time will we be leaving?’

‘Not until after school,’ she said. ‘Beamish will come and get us as soon as he’s finished for the day and in view of the fact that we don’t have the usual early start tomorrow, I think I’ll have a lie-in.’

My eyes flew from the list to Dolly’s face.

‘Well I never,’ I gasped, feeling as if the world had slipped a little on its axis.

That wasn’t like her at all. Dolly was always up with the lark, even when she had stayed at the hotel, but her unchanged tone didn’t suggest it was anything for me to be worried about.

‘Well, that’s the plan,’ she said, now frowning as her needles clicked at speed, ‘so I daresay I’ll be awake even earlier than usual because I haven’t got to get up, won’t I?’

‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘in my experience, that’s usually the way of it.’

‘And what have you got planned for tomorrow?’ she asked me.

‘Same as you most likely,’ I sighed. ‘I wouldn’t mind staying under the eiderdown until there’s a hint of daylight peeping around the curtains.’

I didn’t add that I was planning to telephone Jonathan and tell him about the Christmas card fiasco. I wasn’t going to mention the letter which accompanied it, but as I was feeling so guilty about that and the near-kiss, I had to come clean about something.

It wasn’t a call I was looking forward to but it didn’t feel right, preparing to head off for a new life in another country with the man I loved while stowing away an extra suitcase full of secrets. That said, I wouldn’t be mentioning Beamish. There was no need to test Jonathan’s resolve about my friendships with the opposite sex just for the sake of it.

‘I’ll bring you breakfast in bed, if you like,’ I told Dolly.

‘Oh now,’ she smiled, ‘that would be a treat. I can’t remember the last time I had breakfast in bed. Certainly not since I lost my Stanley,’ she mused. ‘It’s just not the same, getting out of bed to make it and then getting back in again, is it?’

‘I suppose not,’ I smiled back.