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Telling herself to tame her enthusiasm, at least outwardly, she picked up her bag of presents. This was Arlo’s house; he saw it every day. It wasn’t cool to be weeping for joy and overcome when she hadn’t even set foot inside. It might be damp, smell of drains, or be overrun with mice, for all she knew.

‘Everything OK?’ Arlo asked, catching her in the midst of a vision of discovering mouse droppings when she pulled back the duvet.

‘Yes. Fine.’ She laughed. ‘It’s only that I hadn’t expected it to be so – big. In the flesh, so to speak.’

He grinned, dimples softening his Viking features. ‘Yes, it’s quite the holiday home, isn’t it? The locals had the same reaction when it was built two hundred years ago although I think the words “monstrosity” and “abomination” might have been used.’

‘I did read about the reaction. It’s so different to anything else in the area. I suppose they thought the owner wanted to make a statement.’

‘He did that. He deliberately wanted a great big pile to show his friends how much money he’d made from his lead-mining business and he chose a pretty little island on Derwentwater to do it. He wasn’t popular but, back then, there was no one to stop him.’

‘I can imagine.’ Katie nodded, feeling she might be living in a dream – a good one on this occasion. Even though she’d read everything she could on the history of the Island House, she wanted to know more. She had a lot of questions she’d loved to have asked, though many were about Arlo himself. Do you actually have Viking heritage? Why do you have a northern name but an RP accent? What’s that scar by the right side of your lip that isn’t quite hidden by the beard?

They would all have to be postponed for now, and maybe never asked at all. Katie was well aware that she was often tempted to ask people inappropriate and intrusive questions and occasionally actually did. It didn’t always go well.

‘Shall we go inside?’ he asked. ‘I’m sure you’re keen to warm up and settle in.’

Excitement bubbled, giving her the kind of happy shivers she hadn’t felt for a long time. This had been the best idea. ‘I do. Let’s go for it.’

Arlo unlocked the pale green front door, the colour the perfect foil for the wreath of holly, spruce and red ribbon fixed to its centre. Stepping inside, he held the door open wide with a broad smile. ‘Please, come inside.’

She walked through the porch into a hallway that was open to the first-floor ceiling. The grand staircase led up to a landing that wrapped around three sides of the hall, rather like a mini-Downton Abbey. The banister was wrapped with greenery and baubles and in one corner of the hall there was a Christmas tree that must have been nine feet tall.

Katie’s mouth fell open again. She had a feeling it wasn’t going to close for some time. ‘It’s – oh – the tree is amazing.’

‘Thanks. It’s from the mainland.’

‘Not your garden?’ she joked.

He laughed. ‘God, no. I only have a postage stamp at the Lodge over on the mainland, which isn’t as grand as it sounds. I brought the tree over on the launch a week ago from Greg’s place. He grows a few on his sheep farm to make ends meet.’

‘Well, tell him it’s gorgeous.’ She inhaled deeply. ‘And the smell is wonderful. Your decorating skills aren’t bad either.’ The tree was simply decorated in traditional reds, golds and greens but that suited the house.

He laughed. ‘Thank Helen the housekeeper and her team. They did the tree. I only held the stepladder.’

‘There’s a team to look after this place?’ Katie said. ‘I suppose there must be.’

‘Well, there’s me and Helen and her assistants Rosie and Marcus help with the garden but they aren’t full time. They all have other holiday places to look after. I do most of it.’

‘Big job.’

‘There’re a lot worse,’ Arlo murmured. He added, ‘It suits me. Now, shall we see the sitting room?’

He showed Katie through to another spacious room, made cosy with comfortable sofas, thick curtains and another Christmas tree, smaller than the hall one, but also beautifully decorated.

‘This is just gorgeous,’ Katie said dreamily.

‘Thank you. I’ll light a fire in here shortly unless you want to use the drawing room tonight?’

She gasped. ‘There’s a drawing room too? Do you think I need someone to serve tea and complain about how long the gentlemen are lingering over their port and cigars?’

‘You can do that if you want to,’ Arlo said, deadpan.

Katie giggled. ‘Maybe we should for a laugh – minus the cigars and the gentlemen.’

That realisation sent a pang of regret through her. No gentlemen. Her father couldn’t make it and of course there would be no Ned this year, unlike the previous Christmas when he’d spent every waking hour with Katie. She felt cold, as if someone had stepped over her grave – one, she thought, that she’d very narrowly escaped.

‘It’s no trouble if you want a fire in there now,’ Arlo said, looking at her with concern. He was probably worried she’d got hypothermia while hanging about for him in the mist and rain.