At first sight, Gilly liked him. He was relaxed and easy, not particularly smartly dressed – unlike Leo who was wearing an immaculate suit and silk tie – but he was friendly and managed to make conversation with Martin, which could be difficult.

‘I can’t believe you drink sherry,’ said Cressida, who was nursing fizzy water with a sprig of thyme in it. ‘It’s an older person’s drink.’

‘I like sherry,’ said Helena, sounding defiant. ‘And I think it’s coming back into fashion.’

‘Who cares about fashion?’ said Jago. ‘You either like something or you don’t.’

‘So that’s why you’re wearing clothes out of the eighties?’ Cressida asked, but in a way that didn’t quite qualify as being rude.

Jago gave her a very charming smile. ‘That’s it exactly.’

‘Oh, look! Here’s Uly!’ said Ismene, leaving her mother’s side and going towards the cat.

‘Don’t touch him!’ said her mother sharply. ‘You’ll get covered with hairs.’

Gilly noticed that Leo had stepped away from the cat as well but cat hairs would be hard to get off those elegant trousers. She clapped her hands and Ulysses, taking offence, stalked out of the room.

‘Maybe you could top up everyone’s glasses for me, Leo?’ said Gilly into the silence. ‘I’ve just got to put the green veg on.’

As she hurried back to the kitchen, wishing she could stay there, Gilly hoped that the cat would stay out of the way and that Jago and Cressida wouldn’t get touchy with each other. Helena was being a bit odd although she was saying all the right things. Probably hungry, she thought. She’d have gone without breakfast to save herself for a big lunch. As a child she was always grumpy if her blood sugar level dipped.

Gilly came back into the drawing room and sensed that two glasses of sherry hadn’t been enough to lighten the atmosphere. ‘Let’s go and eat,’ she said. The veg should be cooked by the time everyone had sat down. Overcooked, possibly.

‘Would you like me to carve?’ suggested Leo instantly.

‘Thank you!’ said Gilly. She really preferred to carve herself but with everything else that needed to be organised, letting him do it freed her up for other things.

Helena followed her mother into the kitchen. ‘Terrific Yorkshires,’ she said admiringly, taking the dish from Gilly so she could take them through. ‘Well done, Mum!’

‘I did them in the fan oven,’ said Gilly. ‘But I’m relieved they turned out so well.’

‘Wanting to impress the new boyfriend, then?’ Helena said this in a joking way but something about her worried her mother. She was being perfectly polite but she didn’t have her usual sparkle.

‘Well, you know me. I like things to be perfect.’ Gilly paused, shifting her grasp on the potatoes. ‘Everything OK with you?’