What she'd actually said, when I'd told her slightly nervously that I'd bumped into Ted for two seconds on the beach and he'd said there was always a crowd at the Mariners and why didn't we come along, was that firstly she was painting late, but secondly, she'd decided Ted was too outdoorsy for her. Too hearty. A bit big and bear-like. I was used to Celia's sudden and dramatic changes of heart, but nonetheless I was surprised.

“Really? I thought you liked him?"

She'd wrinkled her nose over her muesli. "Bit too Fisherman's Friend and Aran jumpers for me. Too much of a Barnacle Bill. I'm more of a Larry the Lounge Lizard girl. Can't really see him at the Donmar, can you? I might pop along later, but don't wait if you're going out to eat. I might still be at my canvas."

I told this to the others now. The last bit, about not waiting. Not the Barnacle Bill, obviously.

Babs smiled into her drink. “Sensible girl," she murmured.

I frowned. "Why?"

She widened her eyes innocently. “Making the most of being down here. You don't get that view in London, do you? Why waste it? Anyway, Flora, what have you been doing today?"

I had an idea she was up to something, but Babs was always up to something, so I told them about going into Truro for lunch, and my astonishment at its total transformation from my youth. How old I felt suddenly. Then I told Babs about Shona, filling Ted in on what she did and how influential she'd become.

“She might be reading the autocue in a smart suit but she's still very much the investigative reporter with the social conscience," I told him. “She's like a bloodhound, always has been."

"Love Shona," enthused Babs, who was wearing a very chic denim jumpsuit together with pink canvas shoes. "I bet she sorted you out." Her blue eyes twinkled at me above her gin.

"We had a delightful lunch, thank you," I told her evenly. "And how exactly did you fill your day?" There was more than a touch of thrust in my retort, slightly bored as I was with the whole world jumping on my case and not necessarily examining their own ostrich tendencies first. Mum said Babs had been left so much money by Filippo that she never had to do anything, but she always claimed to be frightfully busy. Never a spare moment in the day. She ignored my dig.

“Ted and I went to Porthchapel, didn't we, darling?"

Ted rolled his eyes. "Babs maintains I give Cornwall a bad press and wanted me to see a pristine, plastic-free beach. She says the problem is not home-grown at all, and it's all to do with the Mexicans. Which of course is rubbish."

"Except where we went today was indeed litter free, agreed?" she insisted.

"Agreed."