A look of panic crossed Betsy’s face.

‘Oh bother! This is the last thing I need,’ she hissed. ‘I can’t read a menu unless I take my huge magnifying sheet with me. I won’t be able to find the lavatories, or even navigate a bumpy floor without someone telling me where I’m walking. What am I going to do?’

‘What do you normally do?’

She looked stricken and my heart went out to her.

‘I insist on eating at home, but that packet of prawns won’t be enough for his big appetite.’

‘And actually I think they’re out of date,’ I said, glad to have had the chance to tell her.

‘Damn. Quick get rid of them before he finds them; he’ll have me signed up to Meals on Wheels before you can say salmonella.’

I held my nose as I disposed of the putrid prawns and had just taken a deep breath when Jensen reappeared with a bouquet of flowers.

‘These are for you,’ he said, kissing Betsy again. ‘You sounded a bit glum on the phone when we last spoke. I thought you might need cheering up.’

‘Seeing you is enough to brighten my day,’ she said, visibly choked up.

‘Let me put those in a vase for you,’ I said softly.

She smiled up at me, her eyes hazy with tears. ‘You’re very kind.’

‘It’s my job, remember.’ I smiled back.

‘It is,’ she said slyly as if something had just occurred to her. ‘And I’ll need you to come to dinner with us too. Because there are some things I’d like to discuss about the vines while we eat. Why don’t you go and get ready and—’

‘Oh, but Gran!’ Jensen sucked air through his teeth. ‘Lottie, I don’t mean to be rude, but there are also things I need to discuss, about, well, me actually.’ He laughed awkwardly.

Both of them gave me pleading looks. I felt torn. And also tired. The last thing I wanted to do was go out to dinner, especially when I wasn’t wanted by fifty per cent of the rest of the party.

‘It’s a lovely offer, Betsy,’ I covered my mouth to shield a yawn which was only half fake, ‘but it’s been a long day and I’m sure Jensen would rather not share you.’

‘Oh, very well.’ She shot me a filthy look and I felt dreadfully disloyal.

‘If the carbonara is on the menu, I highly recommend it,’ I said, hoping Betsy would realize I was dropping hints to help her out with the menu. I also hoped this would help earn her forgiveness. ‘And the bruschetta to start. And if you want dessert there’s—’

Jensen held up a hand, grinning. ‘Thanks for the tip; I think we’ll find our way around the menu, thank you.’