She gives me a crooked smile, and walks out into the living room, leaving me standing in the kitchen, pretty sure that the warmth I’m feeling is from her words, not the Aga.

We spend the evening playing Trivial Pursuit, finishing off the rest of the red wine, and laughing until my sides hurt. There is something sweet, something intimate, about hearing the stories of Rupert and Will growing up together, the scrapes they got into, and I hang on every word as more and more of him is revealed to me. Finally, just before midnight Diana gets to her feet and claps her hands.

‘Right, bedtime, children. It’s almost Christmas Day.’

Rupert and Will both groan. ‘Mum,’ Will says, ‘we’re both over forty years old, I think we know what time we can go to bed.’

‘Not on Christmas Eve,’ Diana says, as Amanda and I slide a glance towards each other, our mouths curving into twin smiles.

‘Come on.’ Amanda pulls Will to his feet, and they slip from the room with a wave, Will blowing kisses at his mother as Rupert and I follow behind them, slipping into Rupert’s childhood bedroom that still has his swimming trophies on a shelf above the bed. It makes my heart give a little squeeze, the idea of spending the night in Rupert’s old bedroom.

‘Come here.’ Rupert reaches for me, his fingers cold on my skin, and the taste of red wine on his lips as he kisses me.

I shiver, and not just from the chill of his hands. ‘No, Rupert, your brother is right next door and your parents are across the hall.’ I laugh softly, pressing my mouth to his bare shoulder to quiet myself.

‘I got you something.’ He jumps off the bed and starts to rummage in the holdall he packed before we left.

‘I thought we were doing gifts in the morning?’

‘This is something extra. Close your eyes.’

I close my eyes and tentatively hold out my hands. When I feel him place something there, I open them, and there is a deep blue velvet box on my palm.

‘Rupert?’

‘Just open it,’ he says with a grin, and my heart turns over in my chest.

‘OK.’ Slowly I lift the lid, to reveal a silver brooch in the shape of a dragonfly, two tiny sapphires glinting in the corners of the wings. ‘Oh, Rupert. It’s beautiful.’

‘The sapphires represent us,’ Rupert says, tracing a finger along the stones. ‘Sapphire is the birthstone for September, and I know neither of us were born in September, but we did get married then so…’ He gives a tiny, embarrassed shrug and I launch myself across the bed, kissing him all over his face.

‘I love it,’ I breathe, as I sit astride him looking into his dark blue eyes – eyes the colour of sapphires – before one thing leads to another.