‘It was,’ I loudly said, the last guard crumbling as I put my hands on his chest and pushed him away. ‘It’s my fault he’s dead.’

I stumbled back, catching sight of Ned’s shocked expression.

‘He wasn’t supposed to be with me,’ I sobbed, as a river of tears coursed down my cheeks, stinging as they mingled with the frosty air. ‘He just turned up.’

‘At your flat?’

‘Yes,’ I snapped. ‘At mine.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ said Ned.

‘No one does,’ I cut in. ‘I’ve never told anyone because I knew they’d blame me…’

I cut the words off, turned away and blindly ran. I sprinted away from the tree, away from Bandit and away from Ned. Had it been possible, I would have run to the furthest edges of the world.

The track was rough and uneven, completely unsuitable for stumbling along in the dark and totally non-negotiable after drinking half a bottle of champagne. I’d barely covered any ground before my foot caught and I fell, jarring my ankle, tearing my jeans and grazing my cheek as I swiped something before landing heavily on the cold, hard earth.

‘Liza!’ shouted Ned, as Bandit flung himself down by my side. He whined in distress. As did I.

Then Ned was there, checking my bruised and battered body for breaks, before scooping me up and carrying me back to the lodge. I was grateful that everyone had long since left and no one was there to witness my stupidity.

Ned set me gently down on the sofa, pulled off his coat and caught his breath. I turned my face away, too mortified to face him. I heard him moving about in the kitchen and when I put my trembling hand up to my cheek it came away crimson with blood. The sight of it made me feel nauseous as well as stupid.

‘I’m going to call Dad and get him to take us to the hospital,’ said Ned. ‘I can’t drive because I’ve had a drink.’

I turned to look at him. The action made me feel dizzy but that was probably the result of the champagne rather than the impact of the fall.

‘No,’ I said. ‘There’s no need.’

Ned didn’t look convinced.

‘I didn’t hit my head.’ I told him. ‘This is just a graze. A scratch from something I caught on the way down.’

‘I want to be certain,’ he firmly said.

‘Please, Ned,’ I begged. ‘Don’t. I was an idiot to run off like that, but it’s my pride that’s more wounded than anything else. This is just a scrape and a twisted ankle. Nothing more. I don’t need to go to hospital and waste everyone’s time.’

He shook his head.