After a Nigel Slater supper of honey and mustard covered sausages and a mug of mulled cider apiece, we set about decorating the tree using the boxes I’d stacked in the utility room on Dad’s birthday.

‘I’ve been looking forward to this moment,’ said Ned, liberating my primary school angel from the box. ‘This is definitely going on the top.’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘you’d better put it up there, because I certainly can’t reach.’

‘Oh no,’ said Ned, pulling me to my feet and then picking me up in one swift and smooth movement. ‘You have to do the honours.’

My breath caught in my throat and my heart started to canter as his arms tightened around me.

‘Go on then,’ he said, when I didn’t move. ‘Or do you need to be a bit higher?’

I quickly reached up and plonked the angel on the highest branch.

‘That’ll do,’ I said, trying to wriggle free.

‘It’s a bit wonky,’ Ned laughed, as he set me on my feet. ‘Let’s have another go.’

‘No,’ I said, backing off as he reached for me again and Bandit barked and skittered around our feet. He was having a whale of a time. ‘You do it,’ I insisted. ‘You can reach easily enough.’

With the angel finally positioned, we set to adding everything else. Lots of the baubles had belonged to my grandparents and there were a variety of handcrafted and sewn decorations too, all of which I knew Mum had made.

Dressing the tree took much longer than it used to, but that was because I wanted to examine everything. I wanted to savour every treasure and lock the sight of them, proudly displayed on the new tree, away in my memory for safe-keeping. I found the process far harder than I had expected to and it was a struggle for my head to acknowledge that this was the last time I’d ever decorate the lodge for the festive season.

Next year, I forced myself to think, it would be Maya and Ned standing together and doing this. Although they wouldn’t be using the same decorations. I had already made up my mind to pack them up and take them with me when I left after Christmas.

‘So, what do you think?’ Ned asked, looking about him.

It must have been hours after we’d started but he hadn’t rushed me once. In fact, I got the impression that he’d enjoyed listening to me explain the origins and anecdotes attached to each and every decoration.

‘Do you think it’s finished?’ he queried.

I took a step back and drank the vision in. It was perfect, utterly perfect. Exactly how Mum and Dad would have wanted our family tree to look. I felt a fresh supply of tears rush to my eyes. So much for my earlier assumption that I was all cried out.