"Oh, no need to do that! You can breeze in and out as you please, you know that." She got up and went to the fridge for the milk. Don't come in the rest of the house, she meant. Hugo was already on his feet and coming round the island to greet me. He kissed my cheek.

"Flora! Haven't seen you for ages," he said with a wan smile, sweeping back his soft fair hair. His face was pale, but not like Tommy's from lack of sleep. More than that.

"You saw her a couple of days ago!" trilled Belinda. She filled a little milk jug.

"You look tired," I told him, ignoring her.

"Nonsense, we've had a lovely day at the arboretum, haven't we, darling? The Friends of the Earth are sponsoring some new trees from Madagascar. I wanted to show Hugo."

“It was great, Mum.”

“Then we had lunch at that Raymond Blanc bistro on the front, you know, Flora? No, actually, before your time."

"Or after," I said bravely. "I've just been chatting to Tommy," I told Hugo with a smile. "I hear he's giving you a hand." Belinda's face went rigid with shock. Even Hugo looked surprised. He recovered.

"Yes, he's been brilliant, actually."

"A hand!" Belinda finally found her voice. "Hugo doesn't need a hand, he works incredibly hard. I thought you of all people would know that, Flora."

"I do," I told her evenly. "But a fresh pair of eyes is always useful, isn't it? To get a different perspective?"

"Exactly," Hugo said as his mother opened and shut her mouth. “Speaking of which," he went on quickly, "Flora I'd love to see your painting. Is it too early? I wouldn't ask, except I know you never usually mind."

"Of course I don't mind!" I told him as we both took advantage of his mother's temporary incapacity to breathe. "I'd love to show you." We made to leave and Belinda made to follow. "But weirdly —" I turned to her — "and this is going to sound ridiculously precious, I only like an audience of one at this stage." Partly true. "I find the chatter rather off-putting."

"I get that," said Hugo quickly. "And you've always said that. Come on, let's take a look."

And off we went, like naughty children. Leaving Belinda holding her silly little milk jug, outraged and impotent, in the middle of her kitchen.