‘What’s the highest quality?’ Charlie asked, appearing beside them. ‘Sorry, I got sidetracked.’

‘We were talking about your cakes,’ Hannah explained, ‘while simultaneously trying not to eat them all.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Daniel said, laughing. ‘Help me put them on plates, Charlie. Hannah, go to the snug and we’ll bring them up.’

‘I can’t help?’

‘I know you’re a bit more than a paying guest, but this isn’t in your remit.’

‘I don’t mind, though.’

Daniel hesitated for a second and then, shaking his head, took some plates out of a cupboard.

‘What’s all this then?’ Levi came over and peered into the tins as they started taking lids off.

‘We’ve brought in contraband, Levi,’ Charlie said, grinning at him. ‘I had to abandon my food market, and there’s lots of stock left over. Daniel won’t let me go home, and even if I had I wouldn’t have known what to do with all this.’ She gestured to the tins full of sausage rolls, cream doughnuts and gingerbread biscuits in the shape of Christmas trees and snowmen, the scents of sugar and well-seasoned sausage meat making Hannah’s stomach rumble, in spite of the snacks she’d already eaten. She wondered if it was the cold making her so hungry, or the stress, or simply that, everywhere she turned in Porthgolow, there seemed to be more and more delicious food.

‘What’s all this I’m hearing about a ghost hunt?’ Reenie’s question rang out as Hannah followed Daniel and Charlie into the snug, carrying plates laden with Gertie’s leftovers. The room was fuller than Hannah had ever seen it, and she wondered if word had got out that they were bringing the contents of the Cornish Cream Tea Bus to the hotel.

The room had a small Christmas tree in the corner that hadn’t been there yesterday, decorated in red and silver, the lights reflecting off the metal tabletop it stood on. A deep, mellow voice crooned about a white Christmas in the background, just loudly enough to tip the atmosphere into festive perfection.

Noah was sitting next to Reenie, wearing jeans and what looked like a traditional fisherman’s jumper in sky blue. His curls were dishevelled, as if he’d dried them with a towel and left them to it, and his cheeks were pink. Someone – Hannah was willing to bet Reenie – had ordered whiskies, and there were five on the table, presumably for the four returning rescuers and the rescuee. Hannah didn’t feel entirely deserving as she hadn’t been in any danger, and it was only mid-afternoon, but it was gloomy enough to pass for evening, and the cosy scene, featuring a safe, slightly rumpled-looking Noah, Christmas lights and music, the dogs at their feet, was impossible to resist.

Daniel hurried to the table and Reenie took a sausage roll off his tray before he’d even put it down.

‘Reenie, keep your voice down,’ he hissed.

‘How can I, when faced with such incredible news? I wouldn’t have believed it, but Chloe was so animated, and Noah here didn’t exactly deny it when I asked for confirmation, so I’m inclined to believe it’s true.’ She patted Noah’s knee, and he gave Daniel an apologetic look.