She pointed along the row of huts at the signs which I had very much enjoyed designing and painting. In the end, I hadn’t hung them on the doors because they were going to be pinned open, but had nailed them in place below the gable ends instead.

With the gables slightly overhanging they would be protected from the worst of the winter weather and with a small light, cleverly installed by David, fixed above each one they stood out well. And that was in spite of the extra lights which Ned had hung and which lit the yard to the point where it was almost brighter than a summer’s day.

‘I did,’ I said. ‘Do you like them?’

‘They’re wonderful,’ said Abbie, wheeling herself out from her hut and looking up at hers and Noah’s.

‘You’ve clearly still got the artistic knack, Liza,’ winked Sue. ‘You know, you could start a small business of your own selling these.’

‘That’s a nice idea,’ I told her, ‘but my heart’s still in my job.’

She looked at me and frowned and I realised I’d just hinted that my stay at Wynter’s Trees wasn’t a long-term proposition.

‘Liza!’ shouted Ned, thankfully saving me from having to think of something to say to cover my mistake. ‘Can you give me a hand?’

‘I’d better see what he wants,’ I said, readily abandoning Sue and the others.

That had been a close call.

‘What’s up?’ I asked Ned who sounded stressed.

‘I can’t get this blasted tree to sit straight,’ he huffed, pointing an accusatory finger at the potted tree which was supposed to be artfully arranged in the back of the Chevy. ‘There’s something wrong with the bloody thing.’

I’d never seen him looking so stressed, not even on the day when I had told him and David of my intention to sell, and quickly climbed up into the back of the truck. The problem was immediately obvious.

‘That’s because you’ve left your hammer in here,’ I tutted, wrenching it out from under the pot, which then sat perfectly straight.

‘Damn,’ he said. ‘I’ve been looking all over for that.’

‘Are you okay?’ I asked.

I had earlier assumed that everyone was caught up in the party atmosphere, but Ned looked far from being in a celebratory mood.

‘No,’ he said, and I noticed his hands were shaking a little as I handed him back the hammer. ‘Not really.’

‘Come with me,’ I commanded, jumping back out of the truck, before whistling for Bandit and guiding the pair of them into the office where David was sat behind the desk, a pile of papers one side and a checklist on the other.

I pushed Ned into a chair and Bandit rushed to his side. Ned buried his hands in the dog’s deep, warm fur and let out a long breath.