‘How did you like your flowers?’ asked the woman on the fruit and veg stall as I walked by. ‘I knew you were working at the school so I thought it best to take them there rather than leave them shivering on the doorstep at Dolly’s which is where they were supposed to go.’

‘They’re beautiful,’ I said, stopping to answer and feeling relieved to have that little mystery cleared up. ‘Thank you. Did you arrange them?’

‘I did,’ she said proudly. ‘I’m Marie Dempster. I’m a florist by trade but I’m helping my husband and son out on the stall tonight as it’s so busy.’

‘Hello, Miss,’ said a voice behind me and I felt a firm tug on the hem of my jacket.

‘Hello, Thomas,’ I said, turning around. ‘Are you Christmas shopping?’

‘Dad is,’ he said, pointing at his father.

‘You must be Hattie?’ His dad smiled. ‘Thomas tells me you’ve helped him make something special for the fair tomorrow.’

Thomas’s bauble was positively groaning with glitter and sequins and I’d had to reinforce his ribbon to stop it weighing down the branches of Dolly’s old tree.

‘I have,’ I smiled, winking at Thomas. ‘But it’s a secret, isn’t it, Thomas?’

He nodded enthusiastically.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ said his dad as they moved off.

‘Alison was telling me you’ve been a godsend already,’ said Marie, picking our conversation up again. ‘Poor Mrs Newton was frazzled before you arrived.’

So was Mr Patterson, but I didn’t think it would be appropriate to say as much.

‘I’ve only been there a couple of days,’ I said instead. ‘I can’t have made that much difference.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ she laughed. ‘Now, what can I get you?’

I didn’t want to buy anything from her stall, but she very kindly directed me to the Cherry Tree one where I spent much of my shopping time looking through the pretty makes which Lizzie Dixon had put together. I hadn’t really expected to buy anything from there either, but was soon seduced by what was on offer.

I found a floral-patterned quilted knitting bag for Dolly, which Ruby, the young woman running the stall, told me Lizzie had made herself and then I crossed the road to the gallery where I found the perfect supersized chunky scarf for Beamish which was also locally made. He would be able to wind it around his neck and have yarn to spare.

As I stowed my purchases out of sight, I couldn’t help thinking that picking out my presents and chatting to the sellers had been far more pleasurable than clicking a few buttons and loading up my PayPal account when I was home alone.

‘What did you get?’ asked Beamish who had crept up in full stealth mode behind me.