‘Exactly,’ said Sue, with a satisfied smile. ‘Their loss is our gain. If you hadn’t been made redundant, you wouldn’t have come back and we’re all thrilled you have. It was about time!’

I was desperate to correct her, but bit my lip and went along with what I’d promised Ned as he quickly introduced me to everyone else. There were lots of names to remember, but my teaching experience helped fix them, as well as their wonderful sounding enterprises, in my head.

Hope and her mum, Sophie, along with Hope’s partner, Joe, were setting up in the barn, rather than one of the huts. The two women were in charge of the Wynter’s Trees catering, which got me off hot chocolate duty, while Joe was selling the wild bird seed he and his brother grew and harvested on their nearby family farm, along with other bird food products. It was a relatively new diversification venture, but proving to be a lucrative one.

‘And I’m a silversmith and sea-glass jewellery maker,’ Wren told me, as she darted about in much the same manner as the diminutive bird she was named after. ‘I’m going to be selling my jewellery and sharing a hut with my other half, Theo.’

‘I’m a potter,’ Theo explained. ‘Only part-time though. I’m a gardener too, but as there’s not so much work around over the winter, I can focus on messing about with clay for a few more hours every day.’

‘He does more than mess about with it,’ tutted Hope on hearing his self-effacing tone. ‘His pieces are functional and fabulous. Oh, and he’s, my cousin,’ she added with a wink.

‘And as you might remember, I retired early,’ Sue told me. ‘But I got bored very quickly and decided to start selling my soft furnishings. I’ve got shelves full of vintage fabrics and I turn them into cushions, lampshades and bunting.’

‘And we’re Abbie and Noah,’ said a young woman, who pushed herself forward in a wheelchair. ‘But we’re not a couple.’

I remembered the lorry driver who had delivered the huts had mentioned someone called Abbie.

‘Definitely not a couple,’ Noah quickly confirmed. ‘I’m a wildlife photographer who makes wire sculptures and Abbie…’

‘Fell off her horse eighteen months ago,’ said Abbie, speaking for herself, ‘and would have run mad, or I would if I could, until Sue introduced me to felting and I’ve just launched my first collection of wild birds.’

‘Her tits are amazing,’ said Noah, with a completely straight face. ‘So realistic.’

Everyone burst out laughing and Noah rolled his eyes.

‘You lot are so immature,’ he tutted, striding off, but we could see he was smiling.