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‘Well, when you work in the industry, like I do, you hear all kinds of rumours,’ Bill said, raising his eyebrows.

‘Like what?’ Harry was intrigued.

Bill sniffed a number of times, accompanied by an elaborate gesture of rubbing his nose.

‘Coke? That’s hardly unusual in showbiz, is it? Although I am surprised at Fliss – she always seemed like too much of a goody two-shoes to do anything like that.’

‘I’m not just talking about the occasional night out,’ Bill murmured, as he took a slug of his Scotch, having rejected the mulled wine in favour of something stronger. ‘Why do you think she came over here so suddenly? You saw the stories online, right?’

‘Katie mentioned something about it – mental health break, or burnout, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s the official line. Word in the industry is that she’s been sacked.’

Harry’s mouth dropped open. ‘No! Fliss’s show’s one of the biggest things on TV. They wouldn’t sack her, would they?’

Bill shrugged. ‘Just telling you what I’ve heard …’ he murmured, taking another large slug of his whisky.

‘Fancy a top-up, anyone?’ Katie asked.

‘Yes, please,’ Tara said, pushing her empty wine glass in Katie’s direction. ‘Nice and full, thanks.’

‘I’m fine,’ Fliss demurred, and Kit said the same. Katie looked slightly bemused at being treated like Tara’s assistant, but headed off into the crowd with the empty glasses. Tara was still hanging onto Kit’s arm.

‘Doesn’t my husband look handsome today?’ Tara beamed, turning to Fliss. ‘Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky.’

Unwittingly, Fliss looked at Kit, who was wearing a black shirt and black trousers that only enhanced his dark good looks and well-toned body. Tara was undoubtedly right, but Fliss couldn’t very well admit that.

She felt a little awkward around the two of them, remembering that yesterday she had confessed the truth to Kit, telling him the real reason she had come to Clarendon Hall for Christmas. At the time, she had assumed he wouldn’t tell Tara, but now, seeing them so tactile and affectionate, she wasn’t so sure.

‘Should we choose a bauble?’ Kit suggested. The children had finished decorating and now the adults were filling the rest of the tree. There was laughter and shrieking as people tried to reach further up, some balancing their children on their shoulders, others heading up the staircase and leaning over to reach the higher branches.

‘That’s such a fun idea, darling. You’re so sweet,’ Tara said, nuzzling against him. Fliss looked around for someone to rescue her, but couldn’t see any of her close friends nearby. Reluctantly, she followed Kit and Tara over to the enormous Christmas tree, feeling oddly like a third wheel.

‘Careful, Fliss,’ Tara warned, as Fliss began looking in the boxes. ‘Some of those have been in the family for decades. Don’t break any of them.’

‘I won’t,’ Fliss said with a frown. She picked out a delicate gold angel, holding it up to the light where it sparkled.

‘Oh, that was my favourite when I was a child,’ Tara said delightedly, as she snatched it off Fliss. ‘I’m going to add this one.’

‘I’ll choose another then …’ Fliss murmured under her breath.

She picked out a hand-painted bauble with Father Christmas’s jolly face, at the same time as Kit picked out a leaping reindeer. The two of them stepped forward together, putting their trinkets on adjacent branches, before standing back to admire them.

‘Aw, that’s sweet. But actually, Fliss, I think yours would look better …’ Tara began, as she plucked Fliss’s bauble off the tree. ‘Here!’ she finished delightedly, moving it far from its original spot.

Fliss and Kit exchanged glances, Kit seemingly as perplexed by Tara’s behaviour as she was. Kit checked his watch. ‘Do excuse me, I have to nip off for a minute …’

‘I’ll come with you!’ Tara insisted, grabbing Kit’s hand as she followed him up the stairs. Fliss watched them go, taking a thoughtful sip of her mulled wine.

‘Now, Fliss, isn’t this wonderful?’ Lord Oliver said, as he came up behind her. His bright blue eyes were shining and he suddenly looked a decade younger than his eighty-three years. Fliss could immediately see what he had been like in his youth, imagining how he must have come to life on stage. And now here he was, performing the role of lord of the manor to perfection, chatting with the villagers and making everyone feel welcome. The attention seemed to have injected new vigour into him. He knew all of the guests here today, greeting them by name, and he was wonderful with the young children. Fliss could tell that he adored entertaining everyone and loved bringing Clarendon Hall to life. With Elizabeth at his side, the two of them made a wonderful couple, the perfect host and hostess.

‘You’ve done such a good job and it’s so much for you both to organise, I don’t know how you do it. You must never get a minute to yourself.’

‘It keeps me young, Fliss, being around people and keeping busy. And it’s important to give back. I’ve sometimes been selfish in my life, and I’ve made some decisions that I’m not proud of, but I’m trying to make up for that now.’

He looked at her intently, his eyes trying to convey a message that she didn’t understand.

‘I’m sure you’ve always done your best,’ she assured him. ‘Life isn’t easy for anyone but we all do our best with the hands we’re dealt.’