‘That’s what I thought,’ said Maya, grimacing as between us we dragged and loaded the Stotts’ much taller tree on to the wheels. ‘I’m going to need your eyes to guide me with this one, Liza,’ she added. ‘It’s a lot heavier than Doris and too dense to see through.’

I had no idea how Ned managed to do this. No wonder he was happy for customers to collect and return their trees, if they had a vehicle big enough. On the website I’d seen that he marketed that aspect as being all part of the Wynter’s tree gathering experience, but having tried it for myself, I realised it was actually more about saving his strength.

The cut trees for the Wynbridge auction must have felt as light as feathers after all the filled pots he’d been hauling about. Not only was there the weight of the tree but you had to take the damp earth it was growing in and the pot itself into consideration too.

‘Here we are then,’ I said to Mr Stott, conscious that he was watching our every move as we made our way up the path again.

‘He’s going in the bay window as usual,’ he said, walking around the tree and inspecting every branch and needle. ‘Put on a lot of growth,’ he thoughtfully said. ‘Might be the last year he makes it indoors. Next stop, the garden.’

I was pleased the family had plans to plant this one out. It was really too heavy to shift far and I could imagine the prospective son-in-law’s mortification when he was informed of the mistake because Doris was nowhere near as big as this brute. It must have caused quite a stir when he arrived back with her, and not a good one.

‘Would you like us to position him?’ Maya asked and I shot her a look.

‘No, no,’ said Mr Stott. ‘I’ll get the chaps who help my wife in the garden to do that and I think I’ll give Wynter’s a ring and see about keeping hold of the tree this year. It might be better to plant him out sooner rather than later.’

I was relieved about both the positioning and the fact that no one would have to try and return the tree to Wynter’s.

‘I know you probably don’t need this,’ I said, having rushed to the truck and back again, ‘but I forgot to pop one in Doris’s pot yesterday.’ I held out a care sheet for him to take.

‘Doris?’ he frowned.

‘That’s the name of the other tree.’

‘Oh, right,’ he smiled, taking the sheet. ‘I think we have already got one of these kicking about, but we know what we’re doing.’

‘I’ll leave it anyway,’ I said, erring on the side of caution, ‘if that’s all right with you.’