‘Oh, it is,’ he said, pulling me close and lightly brushing his lips against mine. ‘It very definitely is.’

‘Stop complaining then,’ I told him, kissing him back. ‘And maybe during our hibernation we can start properly planning our holiday too.’

I’d broached the idea that Ned and I could travel to see the northern lights together and he was looking forward to it as much as I was. David had said that as long as we went before he left to meet his sister, he’d keep an eye on the place, and further told me that he knew it was a trip Dad had always wanted to make too. Knowing that made the prospective adventure feel even more special.

When Christmas Eve dawned, I was thrilled to discover it brought with it a formerly familiar feeling which coursed through my veins and made my heart thump. The old childlike excitement had landed in full force and I was delighted to embrace it. It was an emotion I recognised, but hadn’t experienced since Mum had died, and when I opened the curtains it was cranked up even further.

‘My goodness!’ I gasped, as my eyes took in the surprising scene.

‘What is it?’ Ned asked sleepily, turning over in the bed.

‘When you disappeared after your trip to the bank,’ I laughed.

‘Yes?’ he said, suddenly wide awake.

‘It wasn’t to order a snow machine, by any chance, was it?’

‘Funnily enough, no,’ he yawned, ‘but I have been wondering if it might be fun to have one next year for the late-night events. I’m going to try and find out if an eco-friendly model exists.’

I rolled my eyes. Trust festive loving Ned to take my question seriously.

‘In that case,’ I said, pushing the curtains further back along the pole, ‘I’m guessing this must be the real stuff!’

Ned, suddenly wide awake, jumped out of bed and joined me at the window.

‘No way,’ he breathed. ‘I don’t believe it. We hardly ever get snow here and certainly not this amount.’

‘I know,’ I laughed. ‘I used to live here, remember!’

Plump flakes were steadily falling and there was already enough of a covering to have transformed Wynter’s Trees into a winter wonderland. Ned threw open the window, which swept the snow from the sill. It landed with a soft thud on the veranda roof below. There wasn’t a breath of wind and everything was silent. Even the birds seemed to be in shock.

‘Come on,’ said Ned, pulling the window shut again. ‘Let’s get dressed and get outside before it’s all gone.’

He began haphazardly pulling on his clothes. His T-shirt, I noticed, was inside out.

‘It’s not going anywhere anytime soon,’ I told him, also dressing, but at a steadier pace. ‘There’s too much of it. There’s no need to panic.’