Page 41

‘It is,’ I agree.

‘I don’t think you could ever get tired of looking at that view,’ he says, while Scarlett directs Mogs to take her from a different angle and to check her long, shiny hair is flowing smoothly from under her woollen bobble hat.

‘No,’ I say simply. ‘I still don’t. You two are lucky, starting out. You have it all to come.’

‘Yeah,’ Luke says.

I glance sideways at him, wondering how well the two of them get along when the camera isn’t there. If it’s ever not there.

I look back at the view. For a few moments, we both gaze at the low-lying mist creeping up the valley.

In the distance there is a red and white inflatable waving. I see Luke notice it.

‘It’s the inflatable snowman over at Christmas Tree World,’ I explain. ‘Always goes up about now, middle of November, to let people know they’re going to start selling trees soon. Seems to get earlier and earlier each year,’ I add, knowing I sound like an old duffer.

‘Must have been pretty special when you were open as Christmas Tree Farm,’ Luke says.

I smile, reminded of my earlier impression of his essential kindness.

‘Yes, it was.’ I almost want to thank him for asking about it, but don’t. ‘It was nothing like that –’ I nod to the inflatable snowman in the distance. ‘It wasn’t like that at all. For us, it really was about the trees. The shape of them, the varieties, the personalities. Getting the right tree for the right home.’

He laughs. ‘Trees have personalities?’

‘Oh, yes, they all have different personalities. Elegant, cheerful, quirky, strong . . .’ I find myself smiling more and more at this youthful interest. ‘You have to find the tree that suits your family and your house. We had one that didn’t have any needles growing up one side – a family came along and said it was perfect for them, because it would sit against their living-room wall. And another,’ I remember suddenly, ‘had two branches coming out of the top. The family who chose it had twin girls who each wanted to choose an ornament for the top of the tree. One had her heart set on a fairy, one a star, so this tree suited them perfectly.’

Luke is smiling, gently fussing Dinky as he listens.

‘It’s much more than just a tree,’ I say. ‘For lots of people, it’s about memories of the past, their childhoods and traditions. Or new beginnings in their first home. Or it’s a piece of artwork in their living room, designed and personalized. Christmas trees are about love, one way or another, for the people you’ve shared your life with – those in it, those you miss. Putting up a tree is really a celebration of love.’

‘I’ve never thought about it like that,’ he says.

‘The way they run things at Christmas Tree World, it seems to be all about getting people to buy more and more merchandise, not so much about the tree itself. It’s like they’ve lost sight of what Christmas is all about.’

He nods, clearly thinking.

‘Merchandise counts for a lot these days.’

We both look over at Scarlett, who is pacing out along the old milking parlour, measuring it.

‘I’d better help,’ says Luke, glancing down at Dinky standing patiently by his side.

‘She seems quieter,’ I say, nodding down and stroking Dinky’s head.

‘Pregnant,’ he says. ‘Scarlett’s hoping to be in by the time the pups are due. Crufts-winning sire,’ he adds. ‘She’s hoping to show there herself with one of the pups. They’re silver Labradors. Hoping for a TV series from it.’

‘Ah,’ I say. Clearly these pups are very special and important to Scarlett.

I pull my big coat around me and realize it’s one of Paddy’s. That’s another lot of sorting out I need to do, the coats and boots by the back door. By Christmas I’ll be living with Gareth, and I wonder how all my coats will fit onto the hooks by his front door.

I breathe in deeply. Life is going to look very different. The cold wind whipping up the valley makes my eyes water. I sniff. It’s going to be very different. That’s what I’m telling myself, anyway, and I push my chin into my scarf, where I’m reminded of the smell of freshly cut pine trees on the wind. It’s my favourite smell of all. That and crisp, cold mornings that make your nose turn red. And woodsmoke from the wood burner that’s stayed in all night and had a fresh log put on it.

‘You’ll miss this place, I expect,’ Luke says kindly.

‘I will,’ I agree, and it catches in my throat. ‘But it’s time it was a home for a younger family now.’

‘And you’re going to a flat by the sea?’

I shake my head.