‘This is your fault,’ I began, but Dolly cut me off.

‘No,’ she said sternly. ‘It most certainly is not.’

‘Yours then,’ I bit back.

‘Hey,’ Beamish frowned, coming further into the room. ‘That’ll do.’

I bit my lip, too wound up to apologise. I was hell-bent on blaming someone for the mess and determined to find someone else to fix it.

‘Now,’ said Beamish, ‘tell me what it is that I’m supposed to have done.’

Dolly explained again, this time paying particular attention to my card which hadn’t been on the pile.

‘I definitely took the lot,’ said Beamish, ‘I told you that on the phone, Dolly. I assumed that the separated card must have slipped off the top and, as there were exactly the right number of stamps for them all, I posted that one with all the others. I take it, it wasn’t meant to go?’

‘No,’ I sniffed, feeling some of the fight leave me, ‘no, it wasn’t.’

Not only were my legs now seizing back up, but the rest of my body felt as tight as a coiled spring. It would take more than Dolly’s herbal potion to ease the kinks out of this one.

‘It was to my parents,’ I explained. ‘Dolly’s idea of a cathartic greeting card and a very emotional letter to go with it.’

‘And you really didn’t mean for it to be sent?’

‘No,’ I swallowed, ‘I really didn’t.’

‘But after our chat,’ he said, ‘I thought you still might be thinking about getting back in touch with them.’

‘Yes, well, thinking and doing are two very different things, aren’t they?’

Beamish nodded.

‘I might have let the card go,’ I told him, ‘but not the letter.’

‘Well,’ said Dolly, trying to make the best of things and failing, ‘think of it this way. You’ve been more than willing to let fate lend a hand in your future recently, perhaps you should let it lead the way through this situation, too?’

I shook my head.

‘No,’ I said, ‘this isn’t fate. This doesn’t feel like fate. This is one almighty cock-up.’

‘Look,’ said Beamish taking in my sorrowful expression, ‘I have a mate who’s a postman. I’ll go and see him. Find out if he’s opening the boxes in the morning and ask if there’s any way we could get the card back?’

‘Could you do that?’ I asked, jumping back up again in spite of my protesting legs. ‘Could you take it back do you think?’

‘I have no idea,’ Beamish told me, ‘but I promise I’ll do what I can.’

‘You can’t ask for more than that, Hattie,’ said Dolly.