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‘Oh, she does, very much,’ I say. ‘She’s really keen to have it as her own. Soon. Very soon.’

‘But not until we’ve finished selling the trees? So we can make some money; the money you lost.’ My heart twists. As ever, Will isn’t thinking about himself.

‘No; not until after we’ve sold the Christmas trees.’

I don’t really want to think about life after the trees, about the time after we leave here.

‘I saw Lara driving away. Will she be back soon?’

‘I’m sure she will,’ I say; although despite everything we said in the kitchen, I sense it won’t be quite the same. Lara’s been warned off, and there’s nothing I can do to interfere in that.

‘Luke, I mean it. Christmas Eve is too late. I told you that.’

‘You agreed!’

‘No, I said to get yourself over here and see what you can do to make it happen earlier. The old girl obviously likes you. More than me. Use your charm!’

Is that what’s been happening here?! I think. Am I being played? But everything is in place for Sunday. It’s all arranged, so I can’t be. Can I? Would Luke do that to me? Try and make me leave the farm earlier than we’ve agreed? When I’m not ready?

‘It’s not going to happen, Scarlett. We’ll be in on Christmas Eve.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ I hear her say.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he snaps back. Which is very unlike Luke, and it takes me by surprise.

‘You know I don’t like not getting my way, Lukey. And there’s always the other farm that’s come back on the market. Much better. I don’t know why you’re so attached to this one—’

I don’t hear the rest of what she says because Delilah lets out a loud, extended bray that completely drowns it out.

Will has been playing with Tegan while we chat, and now he scoops her up into his arms. ‘. . . What are we going to be having for dinner later?’ he says, with a hopeful expression.

I look at him for a moment. ‘Are you thinking about trying another recipe, by any chance?’

His little smile in response is the perfect antidote to Scarlett’s toxic presence.

‘Let’s do it,’ I say, turning away from the barn with the tray of stone-cold mugs. I’ve got to try to put everything I’ve heard to the back of my mind. We’ve made an agreement, and at this point I can’t see that there’s any way it won’t happen.

Will puts Tegan down and runs ahead with her towards the house. Once we’re inside, I pick up an onion and begin to chop. Will reads out the ingredients slowly, his finger under each letter, with only a little help from me. It feels good to focus on the recipe – and on not chopping off my own fingers. Before long, the fragrance of spices fills the warm kitchen, gradually soothing my rattled nerves.

We take our time over the cooking, and then Will settles down to watch television with Tegan while the pot simmers slowly. As the afternoon winds on, I feel ten times better for having stayed well away from Scarlett. At one point, Horse comes inside for a mug of tea and then heads back out to carry on working while there’s still light.

Later, there’s a quick tap on the farmhouse door, and Luke pops his head in.

‘I’m just going to feed the pups, then I’ll be getting off for the evening,’ he says. ‘Smells amazing in here. Wish I was staying!’ He smiles at Will.

‘There’s plenty for, er, everyone,’ I say, feeling that I can probably rise above it all if I need to and make Scarlett welcome round our table. ‘All okay with . . .?’

‘Yes. She’s fine. Just keen to be here. Falling in love with the place. Who wouldn’t?’ he says briskly. But I can tell he’s a bit unsettled.

‘. . . Oh, and she said to tell you that your neighbour came round.’

‘My neighbour? What, Glan from next door?’

He shakes his head.

‘No; the guy from down the road. Christmas Tree World.’

My eyebrows shoot up.