‘No,’ I said, thinking it would actually be quicker for her to tell me than for me to try and work it out.

‘It’s the winter solstice,’ she said. ‘You need to get yourself up, organised and ready to go to Wynthorpe Hall. They’ll be having the ceremony to celebrate it later.’

I wasn’t sure why she thought that would have any significance for me. I hadn’t much interest in the lengthening of days given our conversation the night before. If anything, I would rather have spent my time working out how to stop time. At least that way I might have my darling Dolly for a bit longer.

‘If it’s all right with you,’ I said, ‘I think I’ll give it a miss. I’m not in the mood for getting in tune with my pagan side today.’

‘No, it’s not all right with me,’ she tutted, tugging at the corner of the eiderdown. ‘Beamish is going to be there. It will be the perfect opportunity for you to clear the air.’

I couldn’t agree. I was pretty certain my former friend would far rather be left in peace. I would be the last person he’d want to have turn up and spoil his fun. Assuming a solstice celebration was fun.

‘I think you’re wrong, Dolly.’

‘And I think you’re wrong,’ she interrupted. ‘So, get yourself up. I’ve been told there’s only so many times I can play my cancer card before it loses its power, but I’m playing it now.’

I looked at her aghast.

‘You wouldn’t want me to waste it, would you?’ she asked craftily ‘Surely you wouldn’t dismiss a dying woman’s wishes.’

‘Really, Dolly . . .’

‘Just don’t tell him about my troubles,’ she added as she walked out. ‘I’ll do that later when you come back here together for dinner.’

She had far more faith in my magical powers than I did. There was no way I would be able to get Beamish back to the cottage.

*

Catherine Connelly happened to be in the Wynthorpe Hall courtyard when the taxi I’d taken from Wynbridge dropped me off that bright but cold afternoon. I made a quick scan of all the vehicles I could see. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one attending the gathering. My heart rate sped up to a gallop as my eyes came to rest on Beamish’s truck. I had been hoping that he might have been elsewhere, but alas, no.

‘Hattie!’ Catherine called. ‘How lovely to see you again. Are you here for the ceremony?’

‘Um, yes,’ I said. ‘Dolly suggested I should come. Is that all right? I don’t want to impose.’