“It is a big house,” he says. “She wanted her family to be as safe as possible. It’s understandable.”

True. Although, we’re not that isolated compared to some New Forest properties.

“I’ll go and get us more wine,” I say.

As I pour, I feel shaken, but I shouldn’t. I knew this would happen. I’d told myself to be prepared. I’m not even sure this is just about Nina, although she was popular and well-liked. It’s about people not liking the thought that they too could be replaced. Even though I’m not Nina’s replacement; I’m here on my own terms.

The smell of spices is too sickly now. I open a fresh bottle of red—a Châteauneuf—and pour two large glasses. Ben and I brought this over last New Year’s, but Nina wasn’t up to drinking so we all stuck to the one glass of champagne at midnight. I gulp my wine and top it up again before I head back to the living room.

Stuart is bent down in front of the fire, which looks like it is just about to take hold.

“If you want me to leave, I’ll understand,” I say to his back. “It wasn’t my intention to cause trouble.”

He doesn’t turn round.

I regret my offer until he replies, “I don’t want you to leave.”

“It might get worse.”

He stands up and turns round to face me. I hand him his wine. He puts it down on the coffee table. I do the same. The fire crackles and makes me jump. The fairy lights on the tree flicker on and off. Stuart looks younger, less troubled...almost defiant.

He steps toward me. I have seconds to do the right thing, but I already know that I won’t.

“I guess you’re going to ask if we should give them something real to talk about?” I say.

“Something like that.”

It’s a joint decision. I can’t say that either one of us moves first. We exchange a look, a silent agreement that this is what we both want. We kiss.

At first, I can’t help but think of Ben, but Stuart is nicely different. When I start to undo his shirt buttons, he breaks away to lock the door. Although it’s him who guides me to the sofa, it feels natural to fall down on to it, although it’s been so long since I’ve been with anyone new, it reminds me of being a teenager. I half imagine I should listen out for some imaginary parents upstairs. It’s impossible to switch off and when I hear a scuffling noise outside, I almost ask him to stop. But I don’t, of course, because this is how things have to be.

It’s awkward, yet enjoyably comforting, rather than all-consuming. I’m relieved when it’s over, as if now that the inevitable has happened, we’ve no choice but to move on. I glance up at the mantelpiece and see Nina on her wedding day looking down at us. I pull down my dress, even more acutely aware of my surroundings. The Christmas tree lights flash red, green, white.