Rupert’s mother is waiting on the doorstep when we arrive, wrapped up in a thick grey jumper against the cold. A battered old Land Rover sits on the drive, next to a gleaming Jag, which I assume belongs to Will and Amanda. A brisk, icy wind, laden with the scent of the sea cuts across me as I step out of the car, and I am relieved to see smoke pouring from the chimney. Rupert’s mum – ‘Diana, darling, call me Diana, you’re family now’ – bustles us into the house, calling to his father, and to Will and Amanda. The afternoon is spent catching up, drinking pot after pot of tea, as Diana stirs, and bakes, and chops in preparation for tomorrow’s big lunch, before we move onto wine, a deep, spicy red that complements the beef stew Diana has prepared beautifully.

‘Having a good time?’ Amanda appears beside me at the sink as I wash the dinner pots. We have packed Diana, Eamonn – Rupert’s father – and the husbands off into the living room, while we clean up. I had offered after Diana had done all the cooking, and to my surprise Amanda joined me.

‘Yes, brilliant, thank you.’ I scour at the burnt-on gravy in the casserole dish. ‘It’s been a long time since I had anything like this to look forward to on Christmas Eve.’

‘Oh?’ Amanda looks at me questioningly as I scrub. ‘It feels a bit different this year for us too, if you must know.’

I lift the heavy pan from the soapy water and set it on the draining board, not sure what Amanda is getting at. Different good, or different bad? ‘Why’s that?’

‘Just… everyone here, together. It’s what Diana loves, and we didn’t really do it when Caro was alive.’

‘I suppose she had to spend time with her family too.’

‘Hmmm.’ Amanda doesn’t look at me, as she starts to stack plates in the ancient dishwasher. ‘She liked to go away at Christmas, most times anyway. She and Rupert would go to the Caribbean, or Malta, or Africa, somewhere where it was hot. It would just be me and Will and the parents most years.’

‘Oh.’ Spraying cleaning solution, I start to wipe over the battered, pockmarked oak table, with its stains of paint and slashes of biro, where Eamonn sits to do the crossword every morning, and where, once, Rupert and Will sat to do their homework. ‘I don’t have anyone to spend Christmas with here, so I was just happy to do what Rupert wanted.’

Amanda tucks the tea towel into the handle of the warm Aga and turns to stand in front of me. ‘It’s nice,’ she says quietly, reaching out to rub the top of my arm. ‘I mean, it’s nice that we’re all together. Diana is happy, so everyone is happy.’