From the number of notifications, I could see my other half had been messaging throughout the duration of my journey and I couldn’t help but wish that I had taken up his offer to drive me to Dolly’s. A part of me, a very soggy part, was even wondering if I should have relented about flying out to spend a few days in the sun. I settled back in the seat and began to type a reply as Beamish cranked the radio up again and pulled out of the station.

The wind had died down a bit by the time we crossed the bridge into town and we weren’t getting quite so buffeted as we had been on the A47. The flat, Fenland horizon had stretched for miles there with little other than the odd farm and occasional tree to ineffectively halt the gusts in their tracks.

‘Here we are then,’ said Beamish, cutting the music and slowing down to take a lap of the market square.

He sounded proud to present me with the view but as I peered out of the window, I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. It didn’t look all that different to the last time I’d visited.

‘Lovely,’ I nodded, not wanting to quash his enthusiasm. ‘Is that a new shop? I don’t think I’ve been in there.’

‘It’s quite new,’ he explained, ‘the latest Cherry Tree venture. It’s a gallery and studio for local artists and crafts people. You might want to take a look if you still have Christmas shopping to do.’

I didn’t tell him that I didn’t have anyone, other than Dolly and Jonathan to shop for and that their presents would be ordered online and delivered direct already gift-wrapped.

‘It’s not looking very festive, is it?’ I commented, taking in the rest of the shops. ‘I thought you said Wynbridge was gearing up for Christmas?’

‘It is,’ he said, sounding unimpressed by my lack of seasonal spirit, ‘everything’s up but it won’t be lit until tomorrow, will it?’

‘Why, what’s happening tomorrow?’

‘The town switch-on of course. That’s when it will all kick off properly. Dolly’s absolutely over the moon that you’re here in time to enjoy it with her.’

‘Is she now?’ I frowned.

For a taxi driver, he seemed to know an awful lot about my friend.

‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘She’s told me she has great plans for the time that you’re going to be staying with her.’

‘Do you think we should be getting on?’ I primly suggested.

I had no desire to hear what Dolly had planned from anyone other than the lady herself. I hoped she hadn’t gone overboard though. She knew I hated a fuss about things as much as she did and that I certainly didn’t share her passion for Christmas these days.