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“Hey, how come we didn’t make a Christmas pudding?”

“Does anyone actually like Christmas pudding?” Lucy asked.

“Fair point.”

“Anyway, the build-up to Christmas was always so exciting, with everything going on at school and brownies and then guides. There were the Christmas parties and plays and craft activities . . . You must have done some of those?”

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “I actually had my first kiss at a Christmas disco.”

Lucy rolled her eyes.

“The start of the Christmas holidays used to drag so much as I longed for it to be Christmas, even though my mum and dad tried to keep me busy with trips to see Father Christmas and sometimes ice skating and cinema trips. One year I remember we went to see The Nutcracker being performed. I think I was a bit young for it — I fell asleep after about twenty minutes. We also went to the pantomime a few times, but I didn’t like it. Far too noisy and silly for me.”

Dylan laughed. “Yes, I never understood people loving the pantomime. I went once with school and I just found it annoying. What else did you do?”

“So, some days during the school holidays, my mum and dad would both have to work in the antiques shop. That was the absolute worst because there is nowhere more boring than an antiques shop, if you’re under the age of thirty. In fact, I still feel a wave of terror come over me if I step into a large one.”

“What’s so terrible about spending some time in your parents’ antiques shop?” Dylan asked, a grin spread across his face.

“So, first of all, you can’t really touch anything. There’s stuff for sale everywhere, and some of it’s worth a lot of money. Next, an antiques shop in Upton, Dorset, isn’t exactly the hub of activity you might imagine. You might go hours without a customer, especially during the winter, and then a phone call would come through from someone wanting to buy a load of stuff to furnish a house or something and that would be most of the profit made for the week. It did not make an exciting place to spend the day. The shop would open at ten in the morning, so at least I didn’t have to get up too early. By eleven I was so bored, I inevitably ate my packed lunch. Sometimes I’d get lucky and there would be a comfy chair on sale that I could curl up in with a book or my Game Boy, if my mum and dad were feeling lax.”

“You had a Game Boy?” said Dylan, his eyes comically wide.

“I had a Game Boy Advance,” said Lucy smugly. “Definitely one of my favourite Christmas presents ever.”

“That’s an excellent Christmas present,” Dylan confirmed.

“I was very popular when I went back to school in January.”

“I imagine so,” Dylan said. “What’s your absolute best Christmas memory?”

“Um . . .” Lucy felt awkward. She’d had so much growing up, so much that she probably hadn’t really appreciated as much as she could.

Sensing her unease, Dylan said, “I want our Little Plum’s Christmases to be wonderful. This is research into what means the most for kids at Christmas.”

Lucy’s heart ached at the thought of Dylan having to ask what it was that made Christmas special for children. It was heartbreaking that he’d never had a chance to experience that for himself. But she couldn’t let him see that she felt sorry for him. That would only make him feel bad, which was the absolute last thing she wanted.

She took a breath and checked Dylan’s face to make sure this conversation was what he actually wanted. As if sensing what she was thinking, he gave her a confirming nod.

“I guess what meant the most was Christmas Eve, the couple of hours before going to bed. My mum and dad made it completely about me. We’d eat together, lasagne always, and burn the last section of the advent candle. Then I got to choose a film for us to watch. We’d watch it in the dark with popcorn and treats, with just the lights of the Christmas tree in the background. When the film was finished, I’d be allowed to open my Christmas Eve present, a book, which my dad would read to me when I was little. Then we’d set up a tray for Father Christmas and his reindeer with milk and cookies and carrots and hang my stocking up by the fireplace. I can remember being desperate to go to bed then because I knew Father Christmas wouldn’t come until I was asleep.”

“That sounds so lovely.”

“It was, and I guess it just goes to show that it’s not the big, extravagant things that are the most important — it wasn’t even the presents, though, obviously, I loved opening presents as well — it was the being together and the build-up of the excitement.”

“I hope our Little Plum gets to experience the same thing.”

“Me too,” Lucy said.

“We’ll definitely have to have lasagne for Christmas Eve.”

“That would be perfect,” replied Lucy. “We’d better make it the day before though. Carrie invited us to join them at a National Trust place during the day on Christmas Eve.”

“That’ll be cool. We’ll have a cooking evening tomorrow. I said we’d take something with us on Christmas Day.”

“That’s a good idea. What are we taking?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”