It was so long before the door opened that she began to think he’d gone out, despite the illuminated sitting room window and his truck parked in the drive. She pictured him at Mac’s house or in The Three Fishes, drinking beer and playing darts under the grotto-like twinkling lights, and began to turn away.

Then, suddenly, he was framed in the open doorway. ‘Oh. Laurel,’ he said.

She hesitated. ‘I’m not sure from that greeting how you feel about it being me.’

He didn’t crack a smile. ‘There are people I want to see less.’ While she was turning that unenthusiastic reply over, he turned towards his sitting room with a polite, ‘Want to come in?’

As it was either that or shout, ‘No, thanks!’ after him and head home, she followed, shutting the front door and hovering at the entrance to his sitting room. He’d already thrown himself into his chair. An empty mug stood on the floor and the TV made car-chase noises from its place on the wall. He turned the racket off and trained his gaze on her, obviously waiting for her to speak first.

‘Daisy’s worried about you,’ she began, which was sort of true, even though Daisy had actually been worried about the lack of window display in Mistletoe Cottage’s square window. ‘You haven’t put up your Art December display.’

His eyebrows clashed at the bridge of his nose. But then they relaxed and he rolled his eyes instead. ‘I know it’s meant to go up on the frigging 1st of December but I’ve had other things on my mind.’

She understood but couldn’t help an edge creeping into her voice. ‘I won’t pass exactly that message back to Daisy. Art December means a lot to her. We’ve been traipsing all over the village, admiring displays. People have really got behind it.’

‘Good for them,’ he said, uncharacteristically snarky. He stared at her for several seconds. ‘Are you going to sit down?’

She stayed where she was. ‘I’m not sure I’m any more welcome than the 1st of December.’

His gaze faltered, and then he passed his hands across his eyes. ‘Sorry. I’m probably not fit company. When the doorbell rang I thought it was going to be Mac and I don’t know how to react to him at the moment.’

Her heart heavy, she took a step back. ‘I don’t think you know how to react to me, either, do you? Finding out about Mac has changed things, which is exactly what I was afraid of from the start. Bloody Mac,’ she added bitterly.

He didn’t reply. As Laurel hadn’t so much as removed a mitten, she mumbled a goodnight and turned back towards the front door, already anticipating the bite of the polar cold outside as she fumbled to turn the locking mechanism.

‘Laurel.’