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‘But won’t you want to go?’

I shake my head.

‘We have everything we need right here,’ I say, looking up at Horse. He slides his arm around my waist and pulls me close to him, and I place my hand on his chest.

‘I certainly agree with that. You look like you have a wonderful family,’ she says, looking around at Luke, Lara and Will. ‘Enjoy your day, and thank you so much. Happy Christmas.’

‘Happy Christmas!’ I say. Horse loads the tree onto the roof, tossing the bungee cord the man hands him across it. Luke steps forward and catches it, attaches it and tosses another one back, like they’ve been doing it all their lives.

‘Teamwork!’ says the husband. ‘Thank you again.’ He shakes my hand, Horse’s and Luke’s and waves at Lara and Will, who are standing together, holding the wiggling puppies.

The children in the back of the car are smiling now and waving too, pointing at the puppies.

‘They’re beautiful,’ says the wife.

‘They are,’ I agree.

‘Are they for sale?’ she asks.

Luke shakes his head.

‘I’m not planning to sell them.’

‘Oh, that’s a shame, but I can see why. They’re lovely.’

‘But I will be looking for good homes for them come the new year. I’d be happy to take your number,’ he says, and she hands over her number, delightedly.

‘By the way, do your children go to the local school?’ I ask.

‘Yes, it’s brilliant,’ she says.

‘I’ll be going in the new year,’ says Will. ‘With my friend Khadiza. We’re starting together!’

‘Well, I’ll look forward to seeing you there at the school gates,’ the woman says to me.

And I’m looking forward to being there myself – and every step of the way with Will after that. The robin settles not far away, twittering as if thrilled with the idea.

We stand back from the car and wish them all a Happy Christmas again, and they carefully drive back down the track with their tree on top of the car.

‘Well,’ says Horse with a smile. ‘Looks like there’s just one tree left! Will, give me a hand carrying this inside . . .’

He and Will carry the little tree into the house, Horse bearing the weight. In the kitchen, Horse puts it in a log basket from the living room and secures it with big logs.

We all stand back and look at it. There are branches sticking out at all angles, some pointing down and some pointing up. There’s a bald patch where there are no branches, and it’s very small – but there is something about it that fits perfectly into the space opposite the little patchwork sofa.

Will sighs. I turn to him, about to suggest that we could go into the forest and get another one if he likes. Before I can say it, he says, ‘It’s perfect. Just perfect.’

There’s a little ripple of laughter from everyone. I’m pretty sure that Will isn’t going to get out of his pyjamas, dressing gown and apron all day. Or take off the sunglasses that Luke has given him – the same top-of-the-range designer ones he was wearing himself that first day he arrived in the farmyard with Scarlett. Clearly, he’s left that part of his life behind.

‘Well, now we’d better think about cooking lunch. Let’s bring the puppies in to warm by the Aga, shall we?’ I say.

‘It’ll be chaos!’ says Luke.

‘Perfect,’ I say.

We start to unpack all the kitchen boxes: crockery, cutlery, pans and glasses. Even a box of wines.

‘That’ll come in useful,’ I say. ‘Luke, put the fizz in the fridge.’