I came down behind him, bleary-eyed. Elodie was finally sleeping as though she hadn’t a care in the world and I felt like a zombie.

‘Merry Christmas, Mrs Barley.’

‘And the blessings of the season to you all!’

Jack relieved her of the package and peered inside. She had baked honey cakes, sprinkled with chopped nuts, and they were still warm. A delicious aroma wafted from the box.

‘Something sweet for your belated yuletide breakfast.’ She beamed. ‘I’ll see you all later. Enjoy!’

We savoured the cakes that Mrs Barley had brought, and I made a pot of strong coffee to try and liven us up. I didn’t feel remotely like entertaining, but knew I needed to galvanise myself into action or the dinner would never be cooked. To his credit, Jack would always try to help, but he wasn’t exactly a master chef.

‘Come on, we’d better get cracking while we can. Madam upstairs will be awake again soon.’

Jack nodded unenthusiastically. Between us, we peeled and chopped and the time flew. But the effort of actually cooking the meal seemed daunting; I couldn’t focus and my eyes felt as though they needed matchsticks to prop them open. I looked up at the clock. It was almost noon and Mrs Barley would be coming over shortly. Christmas was going to be a wash-out.

‘I’ll grab a shower before Elodie wakes. Can you entertain Mrs Barley for a bit when she comes round, if I’m still upstairs?’

Jack looked shattered himself and utterly dishevelled. His chin was darkly unshaven, his eyes heavy. He smiled weakly. ‘Yes, carry on. At least we can collapse in a heap after dinner.’

‘You speak for yourself. I’ll still have a baby to feed.’

Elodie managed to stay asleep until I’d finished getting ready, but gradually started to snuffle and wriggle. She opened her eyes and began to look around. Thankfully she seemed happier, her face breaking into a smile and kicking her feet as I peered into the cot. Wearily, I lifted her out, then changed and dressed her in the little Santa’s elf outfit we had bought. Wisps of tawny hair peeped from the sides of the tiny green hat and she stared up at me almost quizzically with her bright blue eyes. She looked impossibly cute. I took her downstairs, where voices from the living room told me that Mrs Barley had arrived.

‘Oh my goodness, doesn’t she look a treat!’ The old woman held out her gloved hands to take Elodie. I smiled, placing the baby into her arms.

‘Yes; fresh as a daisy, unlike Mummy and Daddy today. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ll be much company – my brain’s frazzled.’

‘You poor thing. It’s so hard when you’re losing sleep, I know …’ She looked momentarily distracted. ‘Well then, what still has to be done in the kitchen? Point me in the right direction and I’ll roll my sleeves up.’

‘Mrs Barley, you’re our guest. I couldn’t possibly …’