Johnny shook his head. ‘Don’t forget we’re in Cornwall,’ he said despondently. ‘The next one will be along dreckly, 129and that could be any time between now and New Year’s Eve. Wait here a minute. I’ll see if there’s anyone about.’ When he came back, he was in much better spirits. ‘We’re in luck. One of the lads is knocking off for the night now and he lives in Rosudgeon. He’ll drop us at the hotel on his way.’

The guard had made a promise to his young daughter to be home before she went to bed, and he wasted no time in getting them to their destination. ‘That was good of him,’ Violet said, as Johnny bundled their cases in through the door of the hotel’s reception. ‘That’s what I love about this time of year. It brings out the best in people.’

The entrance hall had been enthusiastically dressed for the season, almost as if each member of staff had been given charge of a corner which bore no relation to the colour scheme of the other three, and Violet had to smile to herself when she saw the overcrowded tree, its red and gold decorations seeming to offer a reflection of the vividly patterned carpet. The hospitable sound of carols, heartily sung, drifted across from the bar, and through another open doorway, she could see a waitress clearing away the last of the dinner tables and re-laying them ready for breakfast. ‘Looks like we’re too late to eat,’ Johnny said. ‘I’m sorry, Vi.’

‘Will you stop apologising?’ she said. ‘You can’t do anything about the weather. A port and lemon and a packet of pork scratchings will do me just fine.’ In the corner, where three rows of paper chains met, pinned to the ceiling, a grandfather clock struck nine. ‘This is nice,’ she said, squeezing his arm to show how much she meant it. ‘Only three hours to go to Christmas Day – our first proper Christmas together. And just think – this time next year we could be sitting by our own fireside on Christmas Eve.’ 130

He smiled, and gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘I like the sound of that.’

There was a young woman standing by the reception desk, waiting to check in ahead of them, and Violet looked her up and down, noting the flat-heeled shoes which were the only practical concession to the weather; otherwise, she was attractive and smartly dressed in a royal blue winter coat and matching hat. She seemed anxious, tapping her fingers continuously on the polished wood; when she turned round, sensing their eyes on her, she was obviously pleased to have company. ‘It must be the busiest night of the year,’ she said with a smile. ‘They’re rushed off their feet. I was tempted to offer to help.’

A man hurried through from the bar before they could answer, red-faced and welcoming. ‘I’m sorry to keep you all waiting,’ he said, ‘especially on a night like this. Would you like to check in?’