A dog began barking nearby, and a voice said, ‘Having fun?’

Ben stood a short distance away, wearing a padded coat, beanie and thick gloves. Bess was by his side, her tail wagging.

‘Yes, I am,’ she said, smiling, feeling a glow of fresh colour suffuse her cheeks.

‘Merry Christmas, Grace.’ He came closer, until she could see small specks of snow clinging to the stubble on his chin.

‘Merry Christmas,’ she replied, recalling him leaning over her in his car a few hours ago. It felt like a distant memory.

‘What are you doing out here?’ he asked.

‘Oh, getting some fresh air and having a think. We all walked up here the other day, and Annabel was telling us your stories about Lover’s Leap.’ She gestured beyond the railway line. ‘Is it really the most haunted spot around here, or were you having her on?’

‘A bit of both, really.’ There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. ‘It is notorious – but the ghost stories are ancient. It’s all cuckolded husbands and distressed maidens. I’ve spent more time there than most and I’ve never seen a ghost.’

‘Really?’ she asked. ‘And what were you doing there?’

‘Dealing with my teenage angst,’ he laughed. ‘It’s an easy place to get to from the schoolhouse. There’s a path that goes straight there, called the monks’ trod. They’re all over the moors – centuries ago the monks used them to navigate, and they were also known by smugglers bringing in contraband from the coast. The path eventually connects with this one. For a while, Claire and I would go and sit dangling our feet over the edge to smoke and complain about our family. We’ve always been close, although I’d stopped going there by the time Claire began taking Adam along. My next bolt-hole was one of the ruined workers’ houses. By that time life was turning a bit more serious for me.’ He lost the smile, and as he gazed into the distance, Grace could tell that his thoughts were elsewhere. He looked back and paused, as though debating what to say. In the end, he said nothing, and as she met his eyes, she felt slightly off-balance.

‘I should be getting back,’ she said.

‘I know a short cut. I’ll show you.’ He began to walk away.

She hesitated, her mind still attuned to their conversation. She wondered what had turned him so sombre, and felt a fleeting sense of disappointment that he hadn’t confided in her.

Ben turned around. ‘Are you coming?’

‘Yes,’ she replied hastily, snapping out of her trance and following him.

The snow’s gentle fall was deceptive. Before long it flew heedlessly into her eyes, melted into cold drips that ran down her face, and soaked through the jeans she wore. The journey seemed to be taking forever, when halfway along the path by the stone wall, they passed a gate.

Ben stopped. ‘Let’s go through the field,’ he suggested, rubbing his hands together as though to warm them. ‘It’s so much faster.’ He clambered over the gate. ‘Come on, Bess,’ he shouted, and the dog immediately bounded up onto the wall and down the other side.

Both of them turned to look at Grace. ‘Come on then,’ Ben urged.

‘Isn’t this trespassing?’ she queried as she grasped the gate and started to climb, feeling awkward as she tried to swing her leg elegantly over the top – an impossible feat while wearing wellies.

‘Only if they see you!’ Ben replied. ‘And I don’t think anyone else is daft enough to be out here on Christmas Day – too busy stuffing themselves with turkey and drinking themselves under the table.’

His words conjured up the rich, spicy aroma of warm mulled wine, and this urged Grace onwards. She jumped down from the gate and found herself standing in a patch of sucking mud, deceptively slick. Ben grabbed her elbow, steadied her, and helped her to wade through the bog. Once clear, they all hurried across the field.

As they neared the next gate, Bess stopped and began barking, and Ben slowed beside her for a fraction of a second, turning to look behind them. Grace had kept her head down to keep the snow from getting in her eyes, but now she glanced up. Seeing Ben’s alarm, she automatically twisted round to follow his stare.

Through the snow she could make out a large, shaggy-haired creature with solid, curved horns. It was ambling towards them. As they watched, it quickened its pace, some distance away yet, but getting closer much too fast for Grace’s liking. Then it broke into a run.

Ben shouted, ‘Oh shit! Move, now!’ He lifted up Bess while she was still barking, and practically threw her over the gate. Then he was by Grace’s side, yelling, ‘You next, Grace, hurry!’

Her heartbeat charged into her ears like the thunderous thud of hooves. Ben’s body was now close against hers, his breath warm on the back of her neck as she gripped the top beam. He pushed her, propelling her upwards, and she swung her leg frantically over the top. In her panic, she leaped rather than climbed down, landing in another patch of slippery mud. It took her legs out from beneath her so that her gloved hands and unprotected face went slap straight into it.

She struggled up onto her hands and knees, panting and gasping. Looking behind her, she saw a pair of large round eyes glaring at them through a gap in the gate, the bull snorting air heavily. Bess barked frantically, crouched with her front paws low and her hindquarters high in the air.

‘Are you all right?’ Ben squatted beside her.

‘I’m fine. Just … filthy.’ She tried to wipe the hair from her eyes with her dirty gloves, knocking a big glob of muck from her nose as she did so.

She looked at Ben, expecting laughter, but instead saw concern. She didn’t know where her giggle came from, but it began to bubble out of her until she couldn’t stop. Ben looked surprised, then the creases around his eyes deepened as he joined in.

Grace surveyed her mud-splattered coat and jeans. ‘God, what a state,’ she exclaimed, wondering how it was that she was sitting in a field covered in dirt and snow, feeling the happiest she had been since she’d arrived.

‘You should see your face,’ Ben chuckled. He offered her a hand, and she took it, pulling herself upright. Their bodies came briefly together, and Ben stepped swiftly away, bending down to reattach Bess’s lead. ‘Come on, let’s go. I need to make a phone call, then I’ll come and join you for lunch.’

Grace trudged after him, her mood deflating. Now she was keen to get indoors.

Back at the cottage, Annabel’s jaw dropped and James began laughing when they saw her.

‘What the hell happened to you?’ Annabel asked. ‘Been rolling around in a pig sty?’

‘I got chased by a bull,’ Grace replied, then wished she hadn’t, as they both looked at her incredulously, and then at each other, before they dissolved into more streams of mirth. She didn’t know why she couldn’t join in when she’d found it funny herself at the time. Now she muttered, ‘Yes, it’s hilarious,’ and headed upstairs to get changed.

An hour later, the smell of roasting turkey wafted tantalisingly through the cottage. Grace was feeling much better after a bath and a change of clothes, and Millie had woken refreshed from her nap and was investigating more of her toys.

Annabel was up as soon as she heard the knock at the door. ‘I’ll get it.’ She disappeared into the hallway, then Grace heard her exclaim, ‘Ben!’, as though genuinely surprised to see him.

Ben caught Grace’s eye as he came in, and smiled at her.

‘Grace got chased by a bull this morning!’ Annabel told him merrily.

‘Really?’ He raised his eyebrows at Grace, but said nothing more.

She was keen to change the subject. ‘Dinner’s ready.’

‘I’ll give you a hand, Grace,’ James offered.

As they concentrated on dishing up, Ben sat down on the floor, murmuring softly to Millie as he admired her presents. Annabel joined them and began to tell him about the ball.