‘Hence the cardigan,’ I explained, turning red myself. ‘The jumper was actually a gift from Dolly,’ I added, lest everyone assumed it was something which I had packed from home or purchased on purpose.

‘Well I like it,’ said Beamish, following in behind Mr Matthews.

‘Of course, you do,’ said Rose, rolling her eyes.

‘What are you going to do this afternoon, Hattie?’ Mr Matthews asked. ‘You’ll be far too hot serving dinners and supervising the party with that extra layer on.’

‘I was rather hoping Beamish might turn the heating down a bit.’

‘No chance,’ he said, ducking out again. ‘That thermostat stays exactly as it is and I’ll know if anyone’s been in the boiler room. I’ve got the place rigged.’

Mr Matthews was right. As the children excitedly took their place for dinner and pulled their crackers, the noise level as well as the temperature, began to rise. They were all much amused to be waited on by their teachers and TAs and by the time the main course had been served, I was sweltering.

‘Take it off for pity’s sake,’ said Dolly when she spotted me fanning myself with a menu next to the serving hatch. ‘No one’s going to notice.’

I did as I was told and kept my arms folded until it was time to clear plates and then I held the stack in front of me. I think my struggle made the meal even jollier for the staff but I was nowhere near as amused.

‘We get extra play today, Miss,’ said Charlie, one of the boys in my class, as I handed out the snowman-shaped ice creams.

‘I know you do, you lucky things. That’s so we can all have our dinner.’

‘Will you sit in here, on these titchy chairs?’ he giggled.

‘We will,’ I told him.

‘However, will Mr Beamish fit on one of these?’ he gasped.

‘He’ll break it,’ joined in his neighbour. ‘It’ll never take his weight.’

I imagined there were going to be more than a couple of faces pressed up against the windows when it was time for us to eat.

‘Come on, you two,’ I said. ‘The sooner you’re done, the longer you’ll have outside.’

As it turned out, Mr Beamish managed admirably on his chair with his knees peeping above the top of the table. I did notice him shifting a couple of times so he couldn’t have been all that comfortable, but he didn’t let on.

‘Party time!’ yelled the children as they were led back into school.

‘Party time,’ the staff responded, rather less enthusiastically.

By the time the support staff, including Beamish, had hastily rearranged the hall, set up the snack table, fired up the candy floss machine (which in my opinion was pure madness), found an age-appropriate playlist and checked there were enough prizes for the games, Dolly was looking exhausted.