‘There is fine.’ Grace pointed towards an bare corner, and Ben manoeuvred it into place. ‘It’s a shame I don’t have any decorations for it, though.’

Ben dusted his hands off as he studied the bare branches. ‘Are you sure you don’t?’ he asked. ‘You’ve got a lot of boxes in this place, perhaps one of them has Christmas stuff in?’

‘You’re right,’ she said as she cuddled Millie. ‘I’ll have a look in the tops of them, see if I can find anything. I don’t think they’d have been in the attic – but perhaps there might be something in the cellar …’

They walked through the hallway to the cellar door. ‘Do you want me to take a look?’ Ben offered.

‘No, it’s fine. I know where the light switch is now.’

‘Shall I take Millie for you then?’

‘You can try,’ Grace replied, not really anticipating that Millie would allow it. But to her astonishment the little girl went willingly to Ben.

‘Right, then,’ she said, ruffling her daughter’s hair. ‘I won’t be a moment.’

She made her way down the steps. At the bottom she felt along the wall for the light switch and flicked it on. The place still depressed her, with its piles of debris and stacks of boxes, but she began to hunt around.

It was so cold down here. Everything she touched was icy, and Grace felt the chill creeping up her fingers and beginning to crawl along her arms. She came across Adam’s mementoes again, and remembered that he had brought them down here unbeknown to her. Perhaps I should have a more careful look at them, she thought, growing impatient. Then she spotted tinsel poking from the top of a small box. ‘I’ve got something!’ she called as she pulled it from the shelf, finding it was lighter than she’d expected.

There was no reply from Ben as Grace went across to the stairs. She switched off the light and headed up, holding the box awkwardly in front of her and navigating by the strip of illumination coming through the doorway at the top.

Suddenly, the door slammed shut with a loud bang and she was plunged into blackness. Shock made her drop the box, and she heard it tumbling away down the stairs. Panic seized her, and she scrambled blindly up the rest of the steps until she felt the wood of the door solid against her palms. She began to hammer on it with her fists, until it swung open.

Ben and Millie stared worriedly at her frightened face.

‘Grace, are you all right?’ Ben asked, as Millie reached out for her.

She clutched the door frame as she gulped in air. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, taking Millie. ‘The door slammed and gave me a fright.’

‘Sorry.’ Ben sounded contrite. ‘I’d taken Millie outside to say hi to Bess, and I heard the bang – the draught must have blown it closed.’ He noticed her empty hands. ‘You didn’t find anything?’

‘There’s a Christmas box, but I dropped it.’ She wavered, reluctant to go down there again.

‘I’ll get it.’ Ben headed down into the darkness.

Grace stroked Millie’s hair while they waited, saying, ‘Mummy got a fright, but it’s fine now,’ as Millie clung tightly to her.

A moment later, Ben reappeared. ‘Here you go,’ he said, carrying the box through to the living room. He set it down on the floor and stood up, dusting off his hands.

He was getting ready to leave, and Grace realised how much she didn’t want to be alone.

‘Would you like to stay while we decorate the tree?’ she asked. ‘I have beer.’

Ben smiled. ‘That would be good, but I don’t want to leave Bess out in this weather for too long …’

‘Bring her in, then.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course.’

Ben went to the front door and a moment later Bess bounded inside and began sniffing at everything in sight. To Grace’s surprise, Millie struggled to be free, and once on the ground the little girl gawped at the dog in amazement, and even chuckled briefly when Bess licked her face. Grace knelt down and patted Bess, feeling herself warming to the dog. She couldn’t be too nervous of an animal that could make her daughter giggle like that.

When Annabel and James arrived home they found Bess curled up in front of the fireplace, looking on as Grace and Ben put the final touches to the Christmas tree. Millie sat beside them, playing with an assortment of baubles that she had commandeered.

‘What are you doing here, Ben?’ Annabel asked as she began pulling off her gloves.

‘You told me you didn’t have a Christmas tree,’ he said. ‘So I brought you one.’

Grace felt her face fall as she saw Annabel’s light up. She’d thought the tree was for Millie’s benefit. Why did she care? she asked herself, as she began to help them with the bags.

‘I think we’ve got enough food to feed the whole village,’ Annabel announced as she went across to give Bess a stroke. ‘You should have seen the town, Grace, it was like one of those olde-worlde postcards – the market was on a cobbled street, everyone was wearing Christmas hats, and all the shops were decorated with multicoloured twinkling lights and streams of tinsel.’

As she listened, Grace noticed that the two men were eyeing each other, waiting for introductions. ‘James, this is Ben.’

They shook hands. ‘Been hearing a lot about you,’ James said.

‘Oh?’ Ben looked wary.

James smiled. ‘All good, don’t worry. Annabel’s been telling me about your daytrips. Local, are you?’

‘Used to be.’ Ben went across to get his coat. ‘Not lived here for a long time now, but I know some of the old stories.’

‘Are you coming to the ball tonight?’

‘No.’ Ben shook his head. ‘Not my thing. Come on, Bess.’

The dog sprang to her feet.

‘I’ll see you all tomorrow then?’ Ben looked around the room at them before he turned to leave.

Grace went to see him out. She wished he were coming to the ball. She enjoyed his unobtrusive company, and wanted to get to know him better.

‘Thanks again for the tree,’ she called after him belatedly as he neared the gate, with Bess trotting behind him.

He didn’t turn, just waved a hand in reply.

Freeborough Hall loomed sturdy and imposing at the end of a long circular driveway, lights blazing from the downstairs rooms. Grace grasped the skirt of her long black satin dress so that it wouldn’t trail along the wet ground, and headed towards the ornate doorway with the others.

Annabel had borrowed a sparkly silver number that Grace hadn’t worn in years, while James had managed to hire a tuxedo in town. He fiddled with his cufflinks as they made their way up the steps. At the top they were greeted by two elderly women, in similar royal blue knee-length dresses that looked more appropriate for church than for a ball.

After parting with their tickets and entering the raffle, they headed along a wide corridor in the direction of voices and music.

‘Look at these,’ James said, as he glanced up at the large disembodied head of a stag, its beady eyes glaring malevolently down at them – one of a number of animal trophies that were mounted between various works of art.

‘I’d rather not, thanks,’ Annabel replied.

They entered the large function room to see the party in full swing. Multicoloured balloons were bunched at regular intervals around the wall, streamers trailing from them. The stage and the bar area were well lit, but the rest of the light came from small lamps on each table. People milled around, or sat in groups holding animated conversation, while a few had already taken to the floor, dancing to a swing band. Grace glanced at the double bass player, his eyes closed as he plucked fiercely at strings, and wondered what it would be like to be that absorbed in something. When was the last time she had lost herself like that? She couldn’t remember.