“She told Christina, at drinks, for example, that Theo might like a dog, he seemed so attached to Truffle. And Christina said unfortunately she was allergic to them which, let's face it, Belinda must have known — and so Belinda suggested a cat. Christina said awkwardly that she wasn't mad about them and Belinda said: ‘Nonsense, everyone loves a kitten, Theo would adore it.’ Hugo stepped in smiling and said the thing was, Belinda couldn't imagine anyone's home without a pet, which makes her sound lovely and cosy, when in fact she was twisting Christina's arm."

"I know."

I did know. I knew all about the things Belinda gently suggested. And the way Hugo explained them, spinning them to something good. A couple of years ago she'd decided Peter needed a hobby, and although he loved boats we rarely got to the sea. So she sent a very expensive set of golf clubs to his school.

“Really kind of Granny," Peter had said anxiously when he'd rung me, "but when will I use them? I'm up to here with revision. And there's the school play . . ."

"Well quite. Don't worry, darling. Perhaps keep them in Cornwall for the holidays?"

"Yes, perhaps. Not really my thing, though. I'd rather sail. And she did ask, last time I was down there, if I'd like to take it up, and I said no, I wasn't interested. I think I even said it was boring."

"Right." I swallowed hard.

Peter had never used the clubs, but had then felt bad when his grandmother asked, so he'd said, occasionally. She'd written and asked which courses he went to. He hadn't replied and she'd sent another letter saying she was rather disappointed in him. I'd had to leave the room when Peter told me in case I threw my mug of tea against the wall. Hugo had ironed it out as usual and used the clubs himself, saying he'd always wanted to take it up.

"Cele, I think I'm going to pop down to the beach for a bit." I looked up at her in the moonlight. We'd reached the cottage gate by now, were about to go up the path. "I'll see you in the morning."

It was a beautiful warm night and not that late. I saw her face light up at the idea. But then she saw mine and knew at once.

"Good shout. I'll go up. It's about time I had an early night."

We hugged and I walked on. Further on, the track ended as it met the dunes. As I picked my way through the cold sand, my feet sinking lower and lower with every step, sharp tufts of grass scratching my ankles, I thought, you see? She knew I wanted to be alone. No spiritual myopia for Celia. She was as clear-sighted as they come, unlike Belinda, who deliberately only saw what she wanted to see.