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‘I think it’s romantic when he turns up with all those cards to declare his love …’ Wanda said with a dreamy sigh, before adding hastily, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life is brilliant too if we want to keep away from romance. It always makes me cry. What about you, Katie? You invited us. You should choose the film.’

‘Hmm,’ said Katie, sensing that Christmas movie night could end up being more divisive than bonding. ‘I think we should watch Die Hard.’

A collective groan went up, accompanied by Jess saying, ‘That’s not very festive!’ and Wanda murmuring that it was ‘a bit violent’ for her liking.

Athene shrugged. ‘There’s a brilliant French series on iPlayer. It’s all rather noir but if you like dark thrillers where people still chain-smoke Gauloises, it might be fun.’

No one groaned, out of politeness, Katie suspected, but no one expressed much enthusiasm either and by then they’d reached the jetty. The others went into the house to make cups of tea and continue the debate about appropriate movies while Katie checked arrangements for the following morning’s trip to Keswick Christmas market.

Greg said goodbye before jumping aboard his own boat with Gin.

‘Is ten o’clock OK for a pickup?’ Arlo asked as Greg’s boat engine faded away. ‘I can fit in with whatever suits you.’

‘Ten is fine. Gives us time to get ready. Sorting this lot out can be like herding cats.’

He managed a smile and Katie hoped that he was offering a small olive branch.

‘Arlo. I hope it’s not too awkward for you with Ned staying next door.’

His faint smile vanished. ‘Why would it be awkward?’

So, Katie thought with a sigh, he was determined to forget their kiss had ever happened. She tended to agree with him. ‘I think that’s obvious.’

He sighed as well. ‘What my guests do in their private lives is none of my business, and I shouldn’t make it so.’ He added briskly, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow here at ten.’

She nodded and, with that, turned to walk into the house, thinking that, so far, her carefully planned festive getaway was proving far more stressful than relaxing. She sincerely hoped their group outing to the Christmas market would put them all in the festive spirit.

CHAPTER TEN

The following morning, Arlo was at the kitchen table with a strong cup of coffee next to his laptop while Pongo toasted himself on the rug in front of the Aga.

He wondered what Katie would make of his task of the morning: updating the Facebook page for the Borrowdale Twixmas Barn Dance which was happening on 28 December.

Big events weren’t his natural habitat but he’d grown to look forward to the annual knees-up, or rather hoedown, with the local community. Erin and the wild swimmers were on the organising committee, and Greg usually helped out, which was how Arlo had first been roped in.

Prancing around in a cowboy hat had been the last thing on his mind but he hadn’t wanted to say no to Greg or offend Erin and the locals who had been more welcoming to him than people he’d known for years in London.

As he updated the page to say that ticket sales closed in a few days, he thought of Rowan as well as Katie – although, interestingly, Katie had come into his mind first. Rowan would have been astonished to find him at a barn dance and even more amazed that he’d become embedded in the rural community.

Erin had told him that, back in the day, the dance had been started as a way for local farmers to meet and potentially pair up with local girls. However, it had long ceased to be an event confined to farmers – sadly, there weren’t enough of them still in business to fill a barn. Everyone was now welcome, from shopkeepers to accountants, vets and tractor suppliers and anyone who valued the rural heritage of the Northern Lakes.

Although Arlo could now call himself a ‘local trader’, he was mainly involved with the event by virtue of his friendship with Greg. Like Katie’s guests, Arlo could say that Greg had been a lifesaver when Arlo had first taken over the Island House from his parents. Helen, the housekeeper, had once joked they had a ‘bromance’ going on, which had made Arlo laugh.

All Arlo would admit was that they’d helped each other. Arlo had arrived as a reluctant and rather grumpy host and neighbour who’d been battling his own scars while Greg was still raw from the loss of his wife. Slowly, over many a pint in the Black Bull, they’d set the world to rights. Greg had joked that their chats were much cheaper than therapy and a lot less excruciating.

Pongo stirred and gave a little snicker before settling back to his dreams.

Arlo went back to his laptop.

‘You look hard at work.’

Arlo almost jumped out of his skin.

‘Did I startle you?’ Ned asked, grinning in the kitchen doorway. Cold air blasted through the open door.

‘A bit,’ Arlo said.

‘Guilty conscience?’