“And Tommy, of course, you know,” Belinda was saying, sweeping me on to where the permanently amused Tommy, looking even more of a rake than usual, his auburn hair swept back off his forehead, graying somewhat at the temples now, was getting languidly to his feet. His face was thinner than I remembered, and as I determinedly kissed the air to either side of it without touching, it was all he could do to keep from laughing.

“Flora, what a surprise,” he drawled.

“Oh no, it's all mine, Tommy. I had literally no idea any of you were going to be here. I imagined I was just coming down to paint Roger, but instead I find a cast of thousands. This is my friend Celia, by the way.” Celia was already leaning in, hand extended with a beaming smile. She was loving this. A rangy, attractive-looking blonde woman with a lot of lipstick got up from the chair beside Tommy.

“Janey Karachin,” she said in dry, East Coast tones one felt Nora Ephron might well have employed. “Along for the ride. I'm what you might call a freeloader.” She winked. “Luckily the Bellingdons haven't sussed me yet and turned me out.”

“Oh, me too,” agreed Celia, shaking the bejeweled hand she was offered. “I’m firmly in the waif and stray camp. But I'm afraid a summer in Cornwall was too good to pass up.”

“I couldn't agree more. And isn't it heavenly? We were out on the ocean this morning in the most adorable little boat, darting up creeks and gullies — I felt like I was in a Du Maurier novel.”

“Where's the Frenchman?” I asked Tommy, “in his tight breeches?”

She leaned in confidentially. “Frankly, that's all I require, and then I'm never going home.”

“And where's that?” asked Celia.

“New York City. Hot as Hades and twice as dirty at this time of year. Mostly I love it, but not in July. As a matter of fact, I feel like I've died and gone to heaven. Hello there,” she said to me, together with a wide smile. “I gather from Iris you're the rider.”

I took her hand. “Actually she said the same about you.”

“Iris is obviously on uncharacteristically flattering form,” observed Belinda caustically. “Now, lunch everyone. Come along, sit down.”

“Quite!” boomed Roger, rubbing his hands. “Enough chat, I'm starving. Children, sit yourselves down.”

“We were sitting, Grandpa, but nothing happened.”

“Yes, well it will happen now, you'll see. Ibby, here. Theo, over there,” he pointed.