‘I have no more luggage now than when I came,’ I told him reasonably, ‘so there’s absolutely no reason why you have to worry about making the journey again. I’m more than capable of getting myself back. I mean, I made it here all right, didn’t I?’

Clearly, that was not what he was hoping to hear and I remembered how he had tried to sow those seeds of doubt about my ability to travel solo on the day I came to Wynbridge.

‘I’m going straight to the spa,’ he said coldly, withdrawing his hand and standing up. ‘I’ll see you back in the room.’

Safe in the knowledge that he was having his knots untied elsewhere, I locked myself in the bathroom, and turned my phone back on. I quickly scanned the messages, which were from Beamish, including one explaining that Dolly had told him I had decided to take myself off to explore more of the local landscape.

He thought it was an odd time to go, what with the auction and our plans to visit the Wonderland, but still kindly listed a few local landmarks he thought it would be worth my while seeking out. I wondered why Dolly had decided not to mention Jonathan when she explained my untimely disappearance from the town. Surely, it would have been the perfect opportunity to drop him into the conversation. But then, why should she? Jonathan was my partner, not hers. Perhaps, like me, she also felt it was a little too late to announce him.

Knowing Jonathan might not be much longer I quickly flicked to my email account. I gasped in surprise when I saw one from Mum sitting in my inbox. I stared at it for at least a minute and then, with shaking hands, sat on the floor, my back against the bath, and opened it.

I read it once, quickly, scanning the words and then, because I thought I must have missed something, tried again. I took my time over each and every sentence two, three, four times, my breakfast churning in response. Surely this couldn’t be right. There had to be some mistake. Lots of mistakes. Was this even from my mother? I could hear her voice narrating as I read it, but surely what she was saying couldn’t be true?

Darling Hattie, what a wonderful surprise it was to receive your card and letter. It didn’t arrive until Friday and, knowing there was too little time to write back before Christmas, I rang your mobile and the hotel but having no success have decided to email instead.

Obviously, I wasn’t contactable through the hotel now and Jonathan had insisted I took on a new mobile number when I changed my phone. I can’t remember why he thought it was a good idea when I had considered it a right royal pain in the butt, but now . . .