‘Did you get everything done last night?’ Bridget asked, as I headed for the door the following morning eating a Marmite sandwich. She was coming downstairs with Romy clamped to her back like a koala.

‘Tilly!’ Romy squealed, looking cute in a snowman-patterned onesie.

‘Romy!’ I blew her a kiss, which made her giggle. ‘Not quite,’ I said to Bridget. ‘Actually, not at all.’ I decided I wasn’t going to lie to her any more. ‘Seth’s lending me the team from the cottage to help me finish in time.’

True to his word, he’d called them and explained what needed doing, and asked them to be at the café by 8 a.m. ‘I offered to pay them extra, but they said they’d be glad of a change of scenery, which I took to mean a break from my mother breathing down their necks,’ he’d reported over the phone, half an hour after dropping me off, and when I thanked him again he said, ‘Believe me, Tilly, this gives me so much pleasure, I should be thanking you, but I think I’ll be doing that forever, anyway,’ which had made me go hot again. I’d already been struggling not to keep replaying the way my heart had kicked when our lips had almost touched, or how good it had felt being beside him in the car on the journey home, the charged atmosphere becoming more relaxed as I steered the conversation to his glory days as a Formula One champion.

‘It wasn’t always as glamorous as people assume,’ he’d said, driving carefully through a blizzard of snowflakes. ‘Unless you’re Lewis Hamilton and have a reputation to play up to.’

It had involved a lot of travelling, he’d said, to races all over the world: Dubai, Kuala Lumpur, New Zealand. ‘I tried to visit the main attractions there, but a lot of my teammates weren’t interested. They wanted to get laid, or go drinking, and I fell into it too for a while, but it wasn’t really me, in spite of what the press reported.’ There’d been memorable times – ‘Obviously winning a few Grand Prixs and Le Mans, and meeting some elephants in the middle of the highway in Bangkok on the way to the track’ – and sad times too – ‘Losing a teammate was horrifying, and made me question whether it was worth carrying on. Especially after Jack was born.’ His face had darkened. ‘But I was in too deep, worth too much to the sponsors, and they’d always persuade me to compete just one more time.’ Seeing his jaw tighten, I’d wanted to say something reassuring, but he’d added that it had been his choice; no one had made him compete. ‘But maybe if Charlotte hadn’t made things so difficult when I was at home…’ His words had trailed off. ‘She enjoyed the lifestyle,’ he’d said. ‘Anyway, although I had a couple of near misses, broke my collarbone, my ankle, I was lucky I was never seriously injured. But I was completely ready to give it up at least a year before I retired.’

He’d asked how I got into interior design, and I told him I’d always enjoyed rearranging the rooms at home, and that I’d redesigned Cassie’s bedroom. Seeing it since coming home, I’d been surprised to find it looked exactly the same. ‘But not half as nice as I remembered,’ I told him. ‘It was way too green – like Kermit-green.’

He’d laughed and said something about us all having to start somewhere, and then I was home, and the snow had stopped as though it had been switched off. I climbed out of the car with my bags and said goodbye and thank you, still embarrassed I’d kissed him – albeit it a chaste one on the cheek.

‘Lending you?’ Bridget set Romy down on the floor, and I watched as my niece raced into the living room with the early morning enthusiasm of the very young. ‘I thought they were your team?’

I took a breath and nearly choked on my mouthful of sandwich. ‘I’m not working at the cottage,’ I said, once my throat was clear. ‘I was planning to, but Felicity kind of took over.’

‘That figures.’ Bridget folded her arms. ‘I thought I was a control freak, but she makes me look like… like…’

‘Homer Simpson?’

She nearly smiled. ‘That’ll do.’

‘You should probably wash Mum’s dressing gown before she gets back,’ I said, noticing a coffee stain on the pocket.

Bridget ignored my weak attempt at distraction. ‘Why did you lie about the makeover?’ I gave her a long look and she coloured. ‘OK, I get it, I’ve been a judgemental bitch about your career. Or lack of one. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine, I should have been honest,’ I said. ‘As pathetic as it sounds, I wanted you to be pleased I was working hard.’

‘Oh.’ She pressed her fingers to her lips. ‘That makes me feel even worse.’

‘Hey,’ I said, taking pity on her. ‘Maybe we’ve both got issues.’

‘Your only issue is me.’

Sensing tears were imminent, I went over and gave her a hug, holding on even when she tensed up. ‘We’re moving past all that now.’ I kissed her temple. ‘Honestly, Bee, we’ll be like twins this time next year, communicating telepathically and everything.’

She gave a snorty laugh and relaxed against me for a second. ‘Wait.’ She pulled back and dashed a hand across her cheeks. ‘Why have you been hanging about at Seth’s if you’re not working there?’

The back of my neck grew hot. ‘I’ve been sort of pretending to be Jack’s nanny,’ I said.

‘Oh my god! Tilly!’ It was clear she was torn between laughing and telling me off and settled for saying, ‘You’re actually great with kids.’

‘What?’

‘He’d be lucky to have you as his nanny.’

‘Wow!’ I pretend-staggered backwards. ‘Something amazing must have happened to put you in this charitable mood.’

‘You’re in a good mood too.’

‘That’s because I’ve got a team to help me at the café today.’ I felt the same lurch of pleasure that had kept me flipping about in bed for most the night, pitching in and out of sleep. Remembering the text that Bridget had been so enigmatic about, I said, ‘Aren’t you going to let me in on your secret?’ Maybe Seth was going to whisk her and Romy on holiday, after Christmas.

‘All will be revealed at the Christmas Eve party.’ Dry-eyed now, she gave a stagey wink.

‘Oh god, not you too.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing.’ Perhaps they were going to publicly announce they were a couple. Not wanting to examine the thought too closely, I grabbed my keys. ‘And Felicity’s rumbled I’m not a nanny, so I won’t be hanging around at the cottage any more.’

‘Oh.’ Her brows rose. ‘But I thought you and Seth had become friends.’

‘Well… I…’ Did she mind? ‘I suppose, yes, we are, but—’

‘Banana!’ Romy ran out. ‘Can’t undo.’ She held it up to Bridget, and I took the opportunity to slip out.

‘’Cor, this looks a bit of all right.’ Gwen – sporting ‘festive’ green and red stripes where her eyebrows had been, drawn on with felt-tip pens – was gazing at the sweep of floorboards gleaming warmly under the overhead lights. ‘I’ll just double check the electric is definitely workin’ ’cos you can’t be too sure, an’ I don’t want ’em going orf the minute people start arrivin’ tomorrow evenin’.’ She made her way back to the panel of switches that controlled the café’s lighting, and clicked the newest one on and off several times, while I gave Mr Berryman an apologetic smile.

‘Sorry about that,’ I whispered. ‘She likes to be thorough.’

‘No worries,’ he said, with a grin. He and the team had worked flat out, without a word of complaint, just lots of friendly banter. ‘She’s a duchess compared to Mrs Donovan.’

‘’e’s only sayin’ that cos I’ve kept ’em supplied wiv cake,’ Gwen cackled, though how she’d heard from so far away was a mystery.

‘Anything else we can do?’

I shook my head. ‘You’ve been amazing,’ I said. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’

‘Our pleasure.’ He gave me a military style salute I was sure he wouldn’t have dared give Felicity, and went to join his workmates, who were sharing a pot of tea and some reindeer-shaped cookies that Meg had brought over as an excuse to check that the flooring was really down.

As the afternoon drew to a close, all that was left to do were the finishing touches. The floor space was needed, so the chairs and tables wouldn’t go in until after Christmas. If anyone needed to sit down at the party they could use the café area, which meant all I had to do was put up and decorate the Christmas tree, currently stashed in the storeroom, string fairy lights around the room, pin some mistletoe in the archway, and hang the pictures that Cassie had painted: a series of watercolours of Seashell Cove in winter.

‘Oh wow, it looks fantastic,’ she said, when she dropped them off, before charging to the toilet to be sick.

‘I reckon she’s in the family way,’ Gwen observed, when Cassie emerged looking pale but happy – not at all in keeping with the bout of food poisoning she’d mumbled about as she fled.

‘Don’t say anything,’ I urged.

Gwen mimed zipping her mouth shut. ‘We know all abart secrets, don’t we?’ She swivelled her eyes in Jerry’s direction and winked. He almost dropped the cup he was drying and did a little dive to catch it. ‘Look at ’im.’ She made a noise that might have been a lovelorn sigh if it hadn’t been so wheezy. ‘They don’t make ’em like that any more,’ she said.

‘Wasn’t your ex in the SAS?’

Averting her gaze, she pulled a spray gun from her cleaning belt. ‘Nah,’ she said, squirting the nearest windowpane, which I was planning to decorate with removable vinyl snowflakes. ‘I should never ’ave said that. I were coverin’ up to save face, if I’m bein’ ’onest.’ She rubbed the window as though she was trying to erase it. ‘We ran a pub togevver in the East End, but ’ad a difficult relationship on account of ’im bein’ a cheatin’ bar steward.’ She paused to wipe the back of her hand across her forehead. ‘He liked the ladies, did my Jimmy. But ’e ’ad an affair wiv me sister and when I found out I chucked ’im art… no, I didn’t chuck ’im art,’ she amended, seeming not to notice my mouth was gaping. ‘I begged ’im to choose me, but ’e chose ’er, so I left and lived on the streets for a bit, then came to live wiv Maureen and I ain’t looked back.’

I looked at her closely. ‘Is that a storyline from EastEnders, Gwen?’

‘Wish it were, duck,’ she said, unoffended. She stopped polishing and tucked her cloth away. ‘It’s all true, you can ask Maureen if you don’t believe me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, tugging my shirtsleeves up. ‘I just… it was unexpected, that’s all. But it must have been horrible.’ I considered giving her a cuddle but she was emitting enough don’t touch me vibes to repel even the most committed hugger.

‘It weren’t nice.’ She pointed to Jerry. ‘Now, ’e would never let a lady darn, I can tell.’

‘How do you know, Gwen?’

‘I’ve got that thing like gaydar these days, only for blokes what are decent.’ She smoothed a hand over her bristly hair. ‘I’m tellin’ you, ’e’s desperate for me to make a move.’

As she strolled back to the counter – was she swaying her hips? – I remembered what Meg had said about love being transformative, and hoped for Gwen’s sake that my suspicions were true, and Jerry would be receptive to her advances.

I tried not to think of Seth as I set about bringing the room to life, with Meg’s assistance – Cassie had gone to babysit her nephew – or to wonder what Jack was doing, and whether Felicity would persuade them to go back to hers for Christmas. It seemed unlikely, but Seth might agree to appease her if she played the card about Christmas being for families.

By the time I’d finished, I had a pounding headache, but the room looked like a classy, grown up Santa’s grotto – without the Santa – and I could finally imagine it filled with people, holding drinks, and plates of food, and having a brilliant time.

‘It’s just how I imagined it would look.’ Meg slid her arms around my waist from behind, and pressed her face to my back. ‘You’re a superstar, Tilly. I knew you’d get it done.’

‘With a little help.’ I’d confessed I’d been struggling and that Seth had lent me his team.

‘I like that man more every day.’ She gazed around shiny-eyed, hands clasped under her chin, and I knew she was imagining the scene that would unfold on Christmas Eve.

‘Everything going according to plan?’ I said, snapping a couple of photos on my phone and sending them to Bridget. Now she’d parted the gates of communication, I was determined to keep them open.

‘Perfectly.’ Meg dived into shot doing jazz hands. ‘It’s been hard hiding it from Mum, but I don’t think she suspects a thing.’

‘How are you going to get her into a wedding dress?’

Meg’s eyes widened. ‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘Any sniff of an event, and she’d stay in her bedroom all night.’

‘I did wonder about that.’

‘She’ll pick something nice to wear, with a bit of encouragement from me and Dad, and whatever it is, it’ll be perfect.’

I felt a bit choked up. ‘You’re amazing for doing it,’ I said. ‘Who would have thought that by the end of this year, your parents would be back together and getting married for the first time?’

‘Not me.’ She swung her hair, which was as shiny as her eyes. ‘Talking of which, I’d better go and finish decorating the wedding cake, and then I’m going to have an early night.’

After a final check around the room, and a slight adjustment of the lights on the Christmas tree, I finally removed the plastic sheeting from the archway dividing the rooms, and heard a slow handclap from the counter.

‘’Bout bleedin’ time,’ said Gwen.