Dolly looked rather pleased with herself and I wondered if my previous suspicions might have been right. Rather than simply asking me to stay to support her, I reckoned she had cleverly crafted this impromptu break and engineered my re-gaining of Christmas spirit, with a rather different motive in mind. I knew she wasn’t going to mourn the loss of my relationship with Jonathan, but what about my friendship with Beamish? If she had invited me with an ulterior motive, where, if anywhere, did he fit into her plan?

‘Apart from . . .’ I began but stopped.

‘Apart from what?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said, crossing the room to retrieve the coal bucket.

‘What is it, Hattie?’

I put the bucket back down.

‘It’s Beamish,’ I told her. ‘Something seems to have happened between us. Almost since the moment we met our friendship has felt like the easiest in the world but these last couple of days something’s not felt right and I can’t help thinking that it might have something to do with Jonathan.’

How it possibly could I didn’t know, but that was what I was worried about.

‘I didn’t think it would matter now, but it feels deceitful that no one knows about him, even though he is out of the picture now. I don’t like it.’

‘Are you saying that you think Beamish has found out about your relationship with Jonathan?’ Dolly asked.

‘Perhaps,’ I said, biting my lip. ‘Although I don’t s ee how.’

‘Well if you’re that worried about it, talk to Beamish and, if he hasn’t found out, tell him anyway, tell everyone.’

‘Surely it’s too late for that now, and besides, I was under the impression that you thought I shouldn’t.’

‘I was,’ she sighed, ‘to begin with, but now I think that was a mistake.’

‘I didn’t think you made mistakes, Dolly,’ I said a little bluntly.

She looked rather cross.

‘What, because I’m old?’ she frowned. ‘Because I’ve seen a lot of life, you think I can’t get things wrong anymore?’

‘No,’ I said, shocked to hear her snippiness matching mine. ‘I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.’

‘No, I’m sorry,’ she said, throwing up her hands and letting them fall back into her lap. ‘I had thought I was steering you in the right direction but I underestimated something.’

‘What?

‘The power of love.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Someone started hammering on the door before she could answer.

‘It’s all right,’ she said soothingly as I flinched. ‘It’s my Christmas shopping delivery not your ghost of Christmas past. Give the driver a hand with the boxes, would you? We can sort the fire after.’