"No, no!" Belinda had fluttered away to her seat, hands waving, as if no amount of persuasion would make her change her mind, taking the martyr's crown with her. Just as Roger went out of his way to make people feel comfortable, Belinda went out of her way to do the opposite, and, before she'd gone, she'd touched Janey's arm with her fingertips, bestowing on her that kind, selfless smile.

Janey obviously didn't take nonsense from anyone, though. Whilst Roger was busy chatting to Christina on his other side, she'd lowered her voice and said to me: “I’m sure your boy's delightful, Flora, but frankly I don't really care who I sit next to. Don't do me any favors, Mrs B.”

I gave a snort of laughter and was then horrified to see Belinda's back stiffen before she sat down.

“She hates you calling her that," I told her as we took our seats. And then I leaned across and quietly told her about the grannies’ names.

"Oh, irresistible," Janey agreed under her breath. "And I know she hates it, incidentally – she keeps saying, ‘do call me Belinda’. But the thing is, when we arrived, she originally introduced herself as Mrs Bellingdon, wafting into the living room where she'd kept us waiting for ten minutes, hand outstretched. Kind of putting me in my place, if you know what I mean—"

"I do."

"And then after a couple of days she got all confidential and cosy and said, ‘Call me Belinda.’ Like I'd passed some sort of test. So I kicked off with the Mrs B. When she tries to insist, I contrive to look terribly confused, and say my mother would not approve of that, and that my brothers still call my father sir, like we're some kind of Waspy, Westport family. She gets in a heck of a fluster."

I grinned, pleased Janey had Belinda's measure. I watched Janey now as she chatted with Peter, who looked like all his Christmases had come at once, his face the same color as his shirt. Janey talked to everyone like this, of course, making them feel special and important, which was such a gift, but he was enjoying every minute of this beautiful, charismatic young woman's company and his moment in the sunshine. Celia caught my eye and we grinned before she turned to Hugo. Ah, right. I'd grill her later. As Janey asked Peter what he was up to, Roger overheard him bemoaning his lack of a gap year.

"Gap year?" he roared. "Whoever invented the things should be shot! Only used to happen when you sat an Oxbridge exam, and even then it was only nine months. Certainly didn't involve bungee jumping in Thailand. Absurd!"

"Except you did actually go to the South Seas, Pa," Hugo reminded him with a smile.