We took our time, making sure we checked the depth, then back filled the hole, before soaking the ground and adding a thick layer of organic mulch. I wouldn’t have minded taking all week, if it meant the tree would survive.

‘It will be all right, won’t it?’ I asked. ‘It won’t be too much of a shock because we’ve done this in winter instead of spring?’

‘To be honest,’ said Ned. ‘I’m not going to make any promises, but the time of year isn’t that big a deal. The site isn’t frozen or waterlogged and I’m going to keep a close eye on it, so it’s got the best possible chance of settling in.’

‘I appreciate that,’ I told him. ‘And it certainly couldn’t have stayed in the pot any longer. At least now, it’s got a shot.’

I took a few steps back and felt my breath catch in my throat. Just as I’d imagined, it was the perfect position. With the landscape of the reserve opening up beyond it and the wide Norfolk sky overhead, it was a spot fit for a very special tree, which was exactly what it was.

The agitated robin was calmer now and already flitting about the branches. What was it that Mum had always said? Robins appear when loved ones are near. I wondered if she and Dad were looking down and watching me and Ned.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked for the second time that day as he came to stand beside me and put a comforting arm around my shoulders.

‘Yes,’ I whispered. ‘I’m okay.’

I stroked Bandit’s soft head and he flopped down by my feet, clearly exhausted from the excitement and exertion he had put into helping.

‘Good,’ said Ned, giving me a squeeze before gathering the tools together and brushing them off, ‘because we’re not done yet.’

The light was beginning to fade as he pulled a thick rug and insulated bag out of the back of the truck.

‘I hope you’re not too cold,’ he frowned, ‘because I haven’t got anything to drink that will warm us up.’

‘What have you got then?’ I asked, pulling the waterproof backed rug out from under his arm and spreading it out on the ground.

‘Champagne,’ he announced with a flourish as he pulled out two melamine flutes.

‘Champagne!’ I laughed.

‘Of course,’ he said, sitting down to reveal the bottle of fizz.

‘That’s extravagant, isn’t it?’

‘A little,’ he said, as I sat beside him. ‘But then this is a special occasion, isn’t it? This tree deserves a toast, as does your dad’s birthday.’

We’d already wished Dad a happy birthday with the hot chocolate but I was happy to go again. Ned popped the cork and pocketed it, before filling both flutes almost to the top.