Just a few days ago I would have most likely disputed that description but since Dolly had plunged me into a vat of festive feeling, I felt rather more inclined to agree. I couldn’t help thinking that my seasonal spirit was finally beginning to wake up and there was nothing offensive about the abundance of sparkling tinsel and gaudily coloured garlands at all.

‘Thank you,’ I smiled, appreciatively accepting his praise before taking a closer look at his face, ‘but never mind our decorations.’ I frowned. ‘What’s happened to you? It must have been a brutal game, either that or you just aren’t very good at keeping out of the way.’

‘Bit of both actually,’ he admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking rather sheepish. ‘I couldn’t seem to stay focused for some reason.’

‘Even though you had a pack of guys the size of rhinos charging towards you?’

‘Even then.’

He locked his eyes on mine and I had to look away.

‘That’s not like you,’ said Dolly who had been upstairs when he first arrived. ‘What’s got you in such a tizzy that you can’t concentrate on your game?’

‘I don’t know,’ he shrugged, shifting his gaze from me to her. ‘Does it matter?’

His cheeks, I noticed, when I looked back, had turned an interesting shade of red.

‘If you’re Coach Hudson,’ Dolly pointed out, ‘then yes, I would imagine it matters a great deal.’

‘Yeah,’ said Beamish, now rubbing the back of his neck, ‘yeah, he did say it mattered to him actually.’

‘I’ll bet he did,’ Dolly tutted, ‘and I daresay he said a whole lot more besides. Are those actual stitches this time?’

Thankfully, Beamish didn’t go into detail about either his coach’s choice of words or what the medics had used to put him back together, but instead set about confirming that he could still take to the ice before demolishing the pie Dolly had saved for him. I guessed the air had been a bit blue after the whistle had called full time.

‘Right,’ he said, when he’d finally worked his way down to crumbs, ‘let’s get going. I was lucky to get these tickets at the last minute and if we don’t get a wriggle on, we won’t make it.’

‘That’s fine by me,’ I smiled, pulling my woolly hat over my ears.

Dolly swatted me with her scarf.

‘I’m looking forward to this,’ she reminded me, ‘and as Beamish just said, he was lucky to get the tickets.’

‘Sorry,’ I said, following her outside, ‘I’m only joking.’

‘No, you’re not,’ Beamish unhelpfully added with a smirk.

*

As Beamish and I watched Dolly take to the rink it was immediately obvious why she had been so keen to literally get her skates on and not miss a single second of her allotted time on the ice.