‘How did you manage to get away with it?’ she asked the dog. ‘I’ve always thought people who let their dogs on the bed were eccentric loonies. You aren’t even one of those stylish French bulldogs with the cute ears!’

Nelly looked back with an endearing expression, as if to say, ‘Dogs like that trade on their looks – with me it’s all personality!’

‘All right, all right, come on – let’s get up and go for a walk along the river before it gets hot!’

Nelly cocked her head.

‘And don’t look at me like that. Yes, I know there’s a chance he’ll be out fishing, but it’s not much of a chance. And think how stupid I’ll look if he is!’

She pulled on some slightly less smart than usual clothes and ran downstairs, Nelly at her heels.

In the kitchen Sophie sat at the table, wearing her pyjamas and a pair of slippers like furry ski boots. Her hair was standing on end, reminding Meredith of a particularly pretty cockatoo. With her laptop open in front of her and a mug of black coffee, she had the air of a naughty eleven-year-old who’d sneaked out of bed to watch children’s television.

‘Not working already?’

‘Just catching up with posts on Instagram.’

‘Jo still upstairs?’

Sophie nodded. ‘Probably lying in bed watching Liam longingly as he disbuds the vines, or whatever winegrowers do!’

‘You’re well up on the lingo,’ Meredith grinned as she made herself a quick coffee.

‘The modern world is all about getting the technical terms right, Meredith. Forget the actual content!’

‘Anyway, your mum and Liam, is it as bad as that? Her lying in bed looking longingly?’

‘She’d much rather look longingly at him in bed,’ Sophie shrugged. ‘But how to accomplish it? I’m sure there’s a vibe between them but she’s a bit shy, and still hurt by the Dad thing, and he’s a rugged Kiwi who’s probably better at talking to didgeridoos than people.’

‘I thought a didgeridoo was that weird instrument played by Rolf Harris.’

‘Kangaroo, then. Wallaby. Antipodean animal.’

‘Rather sweeping colonial attitude there, missy,’ Meredith laughed. ‘I’m surprised at you!’ She paused a moment. ‘By the way – the Dad thing, as you called it. Are you OK yourself?’

‘Well, you know . . .’ A look of pain flashed into Sophie’s eyes. ‘It does rather put you off men. Sometimes I think, why am I spending my life organizing lovely weddings when they all end in bloody disaster?’

Meredith slipped an arm round her. ‘Plenty of them don’t, you know. Plenty are ordinary and long-lasting. As my old nan used to say, they haven’t come up with anything better yet to make two people happy. Unfortunately, there just isn’t any recipe about how to make it work, despite what all those agony aunties say.’