There was a mini-crisis as Lucy got a bit too near to the water’s edge and a big wave came in, filling her wellington boots. There were tears until Chloe whisked her up, pulled off the boots one at a time, and tipped out the cold salty water. ‘All done.’

James caught up with Emma and they walked together slowly. ‘Max seems a nice chap,’ he prompted.

‘Yeah,’ Emma said smiling, not wanting to say too much.

‘Things going okay?’ Her little brother checking she was all right, protective, and at the same time, hoping for good things for her.

‘I think so … it’s early days yet, though.’ She was just finding her relationship feet again, and wasn’t sure she wanted to chat about it quite at this point.

‘Well, I hope he makes you happy, Em. He seems a good sort.’

‘Yeah, I think he is.’

He put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a brotherly hug.

The girls whizzed back, wanting hugs too, and were soon swept up in a line of adult, child, adult, child in a row, with Auntie Em in the middle. They made a swinging action with their arms which the twins delighted in, giggling as they swooped to and fro, shouting ‘More. More!’ until all their arms were aching.

Within a further five minutes, though, grey clouds started gathering above, and a damp, hazy drizzle surrounded them. Oh well, it had been nice to get outside, but it was now past four and would be dark soon, so they were ready to head back for some essential chill-time, Emma especially. A family movie, something Christmassy, would be on the telly – no doubt something they’d watched before, with them all piled on the sofa, or the floor in her lounge. She might even manage a mince pie with a glass of Baileys, or perhaps a good old cup of tea.

This was what Christmas was all about: family, friends, loved ones. Life was special and so precious, and sitting there a little while later, back at her cottage on a cushion on the floor, with her family, Max, and Holly and Adam, she was full of gratitude for what she had, despite the pain of the past.

James and his family left soon after seven, as the girls had nodded off by the end of the film. Lucy had taken a shine to Max and had nestled next to him on the sofa, on his good side, and chattered herself to sleep beside him, questioning him all about the blue bandage thing, and if they had had to cut his arm off, and did it hurt. It had been a long day for them: apparently, the girls had been awake at five, full of excitement and energy, desperate to see if Father Christmas had been. Of course, he had.