I had to admit, it had been fun trying to decide what would work best. In the end I had opted for, with Paul’s approval of course, a simple tree bauble made out of card. The round shape was plain at the back so the children could decorate it however they chose, but the front had a circle cut out so a photograph could be inserted. I planned to give the children paper hats to wear and while they were designing and decorating, I would photograph them all individually. I would then add sticky back plastic to protect the photo and assemble them once the glitter and sequin creations had dried. A hole punched in the top with some ribbon threaded through would make them easy to hang.

‘You know,’ said Dolly thoughtfully. ‘I have a spare Christmas tree in the loft. It’s a bit sparse in places, but you could set that up in the hall and hang the baubles for the parents to find.’

‘That’s a great idea,’ I agreed, imagining how lovely it would look. ‘I could even hang the bags of biscuits on there too, couldn’t I?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ said Dolly. ‘I rather wish I’d thought of that myself now.’

*

The crafts and bakes I had come up with might have been the simplest I could find, but eighteen excited six- and seven-year-olds soon added their own brand of creativity, tantrums and styling into the mix and by the end of Thursday I was absolutely exhausted.

The crafting had happened in class en masse, and took up most of Tuesday, but the biscuits were baked in batches on the Wednesday and Thursday, with Mr Patterson selecting groups of four or five, depending on ability, attitude and whether they were needed in the hall for play rehearsals, to come down to the kitchen with me and Mrs Newton.

‘I have to say,’ she said as I helped one little lad pick out which sweets to add to his biscuits, ‘you seem to have a bit of a knack for this, Hattie.’

‘Do you think so?’

Dolly had already told me as much, but it was flattering to hear it from someone else.

‘Definitely,’ she said. ‘During my first week, I went home in tears most days, but you’ve taken to it all like a duck to water.’

‘Well,’ I said, not wanting to let her praise go to my head. ‘I have volunteered before, haven’t I? I did have an idea about what I was letting myself in for.’

‘But it’s Christmas,’ she said, deftly stepping in to stop an argument over the last red sweet, ‘it’s in a league of its own, isn’t it?’

I didn’t have the chance to answer as Beamish stuck his head around the door, inhaling theatrically.