It hadn’t registered when I’d set off for my walk, but there was no missing it now. The 1950 red Chevy pick-up had been a huge investment and it had been the perfect vehicle for ferrying trees about and getting the business noticed. I’d always hated being taken to school in it because it got me noticed too and earned me the hated nickname, ‘Elf’.

‘What’s going on with the truck?’ I frowned, walking over to where it was parked.

I hated it for another reason too. It had been off the road the night Dad had been hit by a drunk driver who was three times over the limit having gone completely over the top at his office Christmas party. Had he been cocooned in the tank-like Chevy, rather than the little courtesy car from the garage, he would have most likely walked away from the carnage.

‘Why is it up on this platform?’ I pointed, banishing further sickening thoughts of the night of the crash which I knew would send my mood plummeting.

There was so much more attached to the memory of that time than anyone else knew and I had no intention of revisiting it.

‘Because we don’t use it anymore,’ said Ned. ‘But as it’s so iconic, we had it decommissioned and parked here on permanent display.’

So much for not changing anything I began to seethe, feeling nettled.

‘But this truck encapsulates pretty much everything Wynter’s stands for.’ I snapped. ‘It was Dad’s pride and joy. He loved it.’

‘Well,’ said Ned, looking taken aback by my transformation from upset to annoyed, ‘Dad did explain our reasons for doing it in…’

‘An email,’ I bit back. ‘Of course, he did, but I can’t quite remember the details now, so perhaps you could enlighten me.’

‘Sure,’ Ned shrugged. ‘Basically, the decision to take it off the road came down to its environmental credentials. To tell you the truth,’ he said fixing me with a challenging stare which took me by surprise, ‘given your Dad’s motivation to set the business up with a view to helping the planet, I’m surprised he ran it at all.’

‘He ran it because it attracted more business than that thing could in a million years,’ I huffed, pointing at the red Mitsubishi pick-up which I now realised had been drafted in to replace the Chevy.

‘Perhaps,’ Ned patiently said, ‘but it’s MPG is outstanding and even though I agree that it doesn’t have the same appeal as this vintage treasure, we have to move forward with a view to what’s best for the business. And the environment.’

‘I thought you said you hadn’t changed anything.’ I sarcastically said.