They strolled arm in arm around the market and Judy purchased the items on her mother’s list, while Rob bought up every strand of tinsel and glass bauble that he could find. Judy had a little money of her own and she bought a pair of warm mittens as a Christmas present for her mother and a silk scarf for Molly. She decided on socks for her brothers, which would be sensible, and to make their gifts more festive she added slabs of toffee and Fry’s Chocolate Cream bars, a rare treat. Rob was more of a problem. He was a friend, but he was also a patron of the inn and as such needed to be treated with a degree of reserve. She waited until he was absorbed in bargaining for a box of glass decorations, and she purchased a leather-bound notebook and a pencil. It was the only thing she could think of that was relatively cheap and useful – he could make notes on the building progress and costs, or whatever came into his mind. She tucked the little present into her basket beneath the socks.

‘There,’ Rob said, turning to her with a beaming smile. ‘We’ll have the best decorated Christmas tree in Little Creek, and when I move into the manor house I intend to have an enormous tree every year.’ His smile faded. ‘You look chilled to the bone. We’ll get something to eat before we set off for home.’

She managed to stretch her cold lips into a smile. ‘Yes, that would be good. I’m starving.’

He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. ‘We’ll drive down to the quay. I know the landlord at the inn there and his wife is an excellent cook.’

Judy fell into step beside him. ‘I really hope so.’ She glanced up at the sky, which had darkened significantly since they arrived and the stallholders had lit the naphtha flares that were normally only used at dusk. ‘I think we’re in for a storm.’

‘No matter. We have to eat, and my horse needs sustenance, too, and a rest in the stables. Don’t worry, Judy. I’ll get you home safe and sound.’

It had started out such a pleasant day, even if it was cold. The sun had shone and Judy had enjoyed every minute of their shopping expedition. It was good to get away from the confines of the inn and the day-to-day chores that seemed never-ending, but with the fickleness of the weather, particularly at this time of year, the rain started in earnest just as they reached the inn on the quay. The taproom was crowded with fishermen, seafarers and dock workers, and the landlord led them to a private parlour where a fire burned brightly in the grate, and boughs of holly decorated the mantelshelf. Polished brass andirons vied for attention and admiration with a gleaming copper coal scuttle, and two long tables were laid with cheerful gingham cloths. The room was lit by oil lamps, the atmosphere was both cosy and welcoming, but outside the sky was darkening and the storm seemed to be gathering strength. Rain turned into hailstones that battered the windowpanes and bounced off the cobblestones in the yard, scattering like a broken string of pearls.