As well as using the photos of Bandit pulling a sleigh that I’d submitted, and the beach huts, there was another of Ned looking god-like in a chunky knit and wellies. The journalist responsible for the feature had also made a secret shopper visit and based their glowing copy on that. There was a potted history of the place and a small image of Dad from the archives and a mention of the reserve.

‘Look,’ said Joe, thrusting his phone in mine and David’s faces. ‘The paper’s Twitter account has got Wynter’s trending and there are dozens of comments on the website. No wonder it’s so busy!’

‘You’ve done this, Liza,’ said David, sounding choked. ‘You’ve turned the place into an online sensation!’

‘I just thought it would be good publicity,’ I said, feeling shocked. ‘I thought we’d get a couple of column inches at the most.’

‘We’ve got a whole lot more than that!’

I looked about me, the idyllic sight causing a lump to form in my throat and just for a moment, I panicked. Had I made the right decision in telling Ned and David I no longer wanted to have a connection to Wynter’s Trees? The place might not have been for me in the past, but from what I saw now, it looked pretty perfect.

Then two things happened in quick succession which knocked the thought clean out of my head. Firstly, I remembered that Wynter’s was only like this for a few weeks every year and that it was in no way capable of satisfying the need I still felt to nurture struggling students, and secondly, Theo came rushing across the yard looking stricken. He grabbed me by the sleeve and pulled me away from David and Joe who were still looking at the paper.

‘Whatever’s wrong?’ I asked.

The look on his face scared me so much it made me forget where I was for a moment.

‘It’s Wren,’ he choked. ‘I need to get her to the hospital.’

‘What’s happened?’ I gasped, looking over to the huts. ‘I thought she’d just picked up a bug.’

I’d noticed the day before that she still looked pale, but sometimes these things took time to get over.

‘No,’ said Theo, shaking his head. ‘It’s not a bug, she’s pregnant.’

‘Oh, my goodness,’ I gulped.

That should have been cause for celebration, but the stricken look still fixed on his face left me in no doubt that it wasn’t.

‘She was pregnant before,’ he said in a voice so quiet, I had to lean in to hear him. ‘We got to about this far along and we lost it.’

‘But that doesn’t mean…’ I began.

‘She’s had some blood loss during the last few days,’ he swallowed, ‘and the doctor said if it didn’t stop, I was to take her in.’