Half an hour later Celia and Malcolm are ensconced in our living room with snacks, drinks and the remote control. The children – who were already tucked up – heard their grandparents’ arrival, jumped out of bed and rushed down to see them. So Celia declared that normal bedtime could be abandoned, and they could choose a movie instead. Alice and Jamie are now curled up on the sofa, but I’m betting that they’ll both be fast asleep within half an hour of the film starting.

Toby and I pop into the living room to kiss the kids goodbye. ‘Thanks so much,’ I say to my in-laws.

‘It’s our pleasure,’ Celia replies.

‘We won’t be late,’ I promise.

‘Take your time,’ Malcolm says.

‘How was the town hall thing?’ Toby asks his mum.

‘Town hall thing?’ I glance from Toby to Celia.

She shrugs. ‘I went with Madeline to meet the planners earlier today. We gave them the petition for the appeal against the woodland development. It went fine, but we won’t hear anything for a day or two.’

‘Fingers crossed,’ I say. ‘They need to know how much opposition there is to it.’

‘Absolutely!’ Celia puts an arm around Alice, who snuggles into her grandma’s side. ‘Anyway, enough about that. You two go and enjoy your evening.’

‘Have fun, you two,’ Malcolm says, as we blow them all kisses and head out of the door with a rare feeling of celebration.

Thankfully, the rain has ceased. Instead, the air is fresh and cold, clearing my head and banishing any residual sleepiness. The pub is only a minute’s walk down the road, but the narrow pavement is slippery, and I hang on to Toby’s arm for support.

‘I’m glad we’re doing this.’ Toby leans in and kisses the side of my head.

‘Me too. I’m starving though. Think I’m going to have their mushroom hotpot.’

‘Shepherd’s pie for me. And a nice cold pint.’

As we reach the brick-built pub, I glance through the leaded windows at the cosy orange glow within. Toby opens the porch door and I follow him into the warm, noisy interior, buoyed up even more by the sound of laughter and the delicious aroma of award-winning pub grub. We wave to Mike and Lucy behind the bar. They took over the pub three years ago and managed to turn it from an okay place to one of the best eateries in town. Consequently, it’s always busy. Tonight is no exception.

‘Those two look like they’re leaving.’ Toby nods in the direction of an older couple at the far end of the room, next to the wood burner. They’re vacating two chesterfield tub chairs that I know from experience are the comfiest seats in the whole place.

‘Quick, quick,’ I hiss, glancing left and right. ‘Let’s grab that table.’