‘It doesn’t matter,’ I shrugged, trying to sound blasé. I didn’t want him thinking my enthusiasm to bring the painting back to life meant that I was developing an attachment to the place. ‘I’ve got all this time on my hands,’ I therefore added, ‘so I might as well do something with it.’

‘Are you going to stop for supper?’ he asked, pulling out his phone to check the time. ‘Now I’m feeling better, I’m ravenous.’

‘I ate earlier,’ I said, ‘but there are some leftovers. Sophie gave us some curried crab. If you fancy it, you’ll just need to warm it through and there’s plenty of bread to go with it.’

‘Oh right,’ Ned nodded. ‘Fair enough. I’ll see you later then.’

Repainting the grotto frieze was just the excuse I needed to avoid spending the evening curled up in front of the log burner with him and Bandit and I managed to keep going long after he’d turned in for the night. Lost in my thoughts I hadn’t noticed the cold seeping in or how stiff my legs had got from kneeling on the floor. I felt like a pretzel by the time I locked up and hobbled back over to the lodge.

I was back out again early Sunday morning which effectively put paid to mine and Ned’s paths crossing over breakfast and given the response I’d had from Caitlin to my message, that was probably just as well.

She had promised to find out what she could about the job and ended her reply with the words ‘Ned sounds hot!’ I didn’t think I’d typed anything to imply that, but reading my message back, I realised I had put more emphasis on what he looked like than on his business credentials and thought a bit more time apart would be no bad thing.

The paint I’d added to the grotto had completely dried overnight, thanks to the efficient space heaters I’d left set on low and when Nick and Edith took up their stations ready to welcome the next line of visitors, they were both well pleased with what I’d done. The essence of what Dad and I had created was still very much in evidence but it had now been brought up to date.

‘If the queue gets really long,’ I said to Edith, ‘you could get the children to try and count all these new snowflakes.’

‘That’s a great idea,’ she beamed. ‘And the number of baubles on the tree,’ she added, looking closer. ‘I’m sure there are more than before.’

‘There are,’ I laughed. ‘Lots more!’