Soon Laurel and Grady were back on the chaise, no longer sitting politely side-by-side but squashed together with their feet up, careful with their mince pie crumbs for fear of Tonya’s wrath.

After half an hour of joining in the chatter, Grady murmured, ‘Maybe we could get off to my place?’

‘When I’ve seen Daisy home.’ Laurel hoped Daisy wouldn’t demand a later curfew as it was Christmas.

‘Aw,’ said Daisy, who was hanging over an iPad with Niall.

Mac began to say, ‘I could—’ But when Laurel looked at him he stopped, an expression of horror flashing across his face, as if realising Laurel might not trust him alone with her niece.

Laurel got round that awkward moment by saying, ‘Everyone who fancies a walk can go. Maybe in an hour?’

So, when the hour had passed, Laurel and Grady, Daisy, Niall, Tonya, Mac and Mim – Ted was snoring peacefully in a corner of the sofa – set off for a crisp, late Christmas walk, crunching the snow, gazing at lights and slipping on pavements. Cute cottages looked as if they’d come from the front of a Christmas card and the lights strung over The Cross twinkled red, blue and green.

Laurel walked with her mittened hand tucked into the crook of Grady’s arm. Daisy and Niall rushed ahead, trying to scrape up snow from garden walls, which proved too crispy for snowballs. The sound of voices singing ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’ drifted from someone’s house and out onto the night air as the stars twinkled above.

When they’d just about completed a circuit of the village they arrived at Great End and Laurel popped into The Nookery along with Daisy to check Rea and Terri didn’t mind being abandoned.

Rea tilted her head mischievously. ‘I’m presuming things are OK again with Grady?’

Laurel blushed while Daisy said, ‘They’ve been cuddling all evening,’ as if she thought such behaviour needed curbing.

When Laurel stepped back outside, settling her hat more firmly around her ears, she found only Grady waiting for her. ‘The others have gone home,’ he said, dropping kisses on her face.

‘Oh,’ she said, breathlessly. ‘Did they get too cold?’

‘No, I told them I wanted you to myself,’ he said comfortably. ‘I think you said something about my Christmas present being at Mistletoe Cottage?’

They hurried past the pub, silent for once, though still sporting so many Christmas lights it could probably be seen from Mars, then fell into step along Ladies Lane. Soon they were inside lovely, welcoming, warm Mistletoe Cottage and Grady turned on the lights on the tree, beaming out through the window to light the village, like everyone else’s. Bunches of mistletoe still hung everywhere, though a few of the berries now lay on the carpet like pearls. ‘Your present’s upstairs.’ She kissed his mouth. He tasted of chocolate, coffee and Jamesons.