because he wanted to avoid subjecting us to gossip, but also because he wanted to check everything was set out in good time for his Winterfest session.
So far, every event had gone without a hitch and it was a testament to how much everyone thought of Luke that they were prepared to go to such lengths, in their own time, to make it a success.
‘How about another half an hour in bed?’ I suggested to my canine companion.
I turned on to my side and pulled the duvet almost over my head, hoping to tempt Nell into falling asleep next to me, but she was having none of it.
‘All right,’ I caved, ‘I get the message. We’ll start the weekend with a walk, yes?’
Given that it was only another fortnight until Christmas, the weather, thanks to a blanket of cloud, was surprisingly mild and I knew Finn would be thrilled about that because he was working in the Grow-Well. I was tempted to call in and find out if Zak had turned up early to help but, not wanting to disturb my beau, opted to send a text instead.
Back at home I fired up the slow cooker before returning to the boxes of decorations. I had promised to feed Finn that evening and knew that a hearty stew, accompanied by a bottle of rich red wine, would be just the thing to revive him after a day spent outdoors instructing people in the art of wildlife home building.
My thoughtful preparations all felt rather domestic, but I didn’t mind that. Finn was the kind of guy who was happy to do his share in the kitchen, so having a fortifying dinner prepared for his return didn’t feel too 1950s housewife, even if the house’s festive theme suggested otherwise.
‘Oh Freya,’ gasped Harold, when Luke escorted him to pick up his angel and nativity set later that day. ‘You’ve taken me right back.’
He had looked thrilled when Luke helped him out of the car and he had spotted the tree positioned in the window and once inside his enchantment had continued to grow.
‘This is just how I remember it from when I was a lad,’ he said, shaking his head as he admired the crêpe paper crackers nestled amongst the fragrant branches of the tree and his reflection in the delicate glass baubles.
I’d put the most fragile, irrespective of their size, nearer the top, out of the way of Nell’s thumping tail, just to be on the safe side.
‘Although,’ Harold added, turning to Luke, ‘we never had a tree this size. Ours was a piddly little plastic thing. I think we threw it out in the end.’
‘This is a real beauty, Freya,’ commented Luke.
‘Finn gave me it,’ I said, instantly regretting the admission, but neither man seemed to take any notice.
I knew that if Chloe, Lisa or even Poppy had been present they would have pounced on that, declaring the gift as a token of love, which in a way I supposed it was.
‘Although I think hired would be a more accurate description,’ I added. ‘It’s in a pot and the grower’s going to collect it in the New Year.’
‘It must be from the same place where I get ours then,’ Luke smiled.
‘Oh yes,’ I said, only just remembering. ‘The one on the green is in a container, isn’t it?’
I left them chatting and went to make tea. As I filled the kettle, I heard Harold comment on what a lovely job I’d made of everything and my heart swelled.
‘And you think it’s still all there, do you?’ Luke was saying, as I carried through a tray bearing cups and saucers and a plate of biscuits.
‘I’m certain of it,’ Harold nodded. ‘And that thing’s only plywood. You could have it down in a flash.’
‘What’s this?’ I asked, passing around the cups.
‘The fire,’ said Luke. ‘Harold tells me that the original tiled fireplace is still in situ, behind that board.’
‘When that thing was fitted,’ Harold told me, pointing at the ineffective electric fire with disdain, ‘what was behind it just got boxed in. It wasn’t fashionable anymore, but it would have been expensive to have it ripped out so it was just covered up and the board painted over.’
‘Oh wow,’ I said, eyeing the fireplace with fresh eyes and imagining the room properly warmed by logs burning in the grate.
‘The tiles have got some sort of leaves and flowers on if I remember correctly,’ Harold mused. ‘They go all the way around and the hearth’s