Laurel glanced at Daisy then said, ‘My stay’s open-ended. And yes, of course I will.’ She looked as if she honestly didn’t mind, rather than just putting on a sporting face because she’d been put on the spot.

It was great to see her smiling and joining in with a Middledip activity but it meant Grady got no more of her attention. He continued with the red ink over the mottled skin of the gourd, enjoying watching the figuring brought out by the deep ruby translucence. His phone buzzed with another text from Pippa: Could it be before five? xx

Jeez! And this from a woman who’d dumped him. Swiftly, he shot back: Why don’t I come to yours when I’m ready so you’re not hanging around?

In return he received a laughing emoji, and: Because I’m at the cottage already and it’s snowing. Haha. xxx

Shit. She was playing on Grady being too much of a gentleman to leave her standing outdoors freezing. It was just turned four and a chilly grey dusk would be falling. He finished the red inking part of the vase, put it on the drying shelf and began to clean his brushes. He popped a two-pound coin on the table at Iris’s elbow.

Any vague ideas of saying to Laurel, ‘What are you doing later?’ or ‘Fancy a drink sometime soon?’ washed away like the red ink from his brush.

She called goodbye when she noticed him pulling on his coat. Then her gaze caught on the gourd, glowing red. She sent him a smile. ‘That’s beautiful.’ If it hadn’t been before, her smile made it feel that way.

He called his farewells and swung out through the main café, where the Christmas tree was now a spectacular array of glittering, twinkling white lights and glowing blue and gold baubles. He liked Christmas, he thought, stepping out and admiring the gently drifting snow that made the village look like a Christmas card. Christmas, for him, meant arriving at Mac’s house with a bag of presents and a half-case of wine, checking out Niall’s latest computer games, joking with his colourful, petite sister-in-law while she beat batter and he and Mac peeled veg.

He strode up Port Road with snowflakes kissing his cheeks and the contented feeling of having enjoyed today. Laurel would be in the village this Christmas … Stop being an overeager moron, he chided himself. You’re reading way too much into her thawing towards you.

He turned between the hedges of Mistletoe Cottage and loped up the path that was just beginning to cover with snow. Pippa waited beneath the porch, stamping her feet and swinging her arms as if the snow were two feet deep. He fished out his key. ‘I don’t know why you came so early.’

She answered with a dazzling smile. ‘I couldn’t wait to see you.’