‘Now, I’ve done some little salmon bits to start with,’ she says. ‘And the beef’s in the oven. But, you know, I forgot to check with you whether she actually eats meat. Because more and more people don’t these days. You know Hiam’s son, Henry, well, he’s become a “pescatarian”, and …’ She breaks off, her finger quote marks still hanging in mid-air. ‘What’s the matter, darling? Is something wrong?’

I realise I am clenching my jaw painfully, twisting my mouth into a shape that’s supposed to resemble a smile. Clearly it’s not having the desired effect.

‘Oh God,’ Mum sighs, dropping her hands to her hips. ‘She’s a veggie, isn’t she? I knew it.’

I can’t take it any more. I rush forward to hug her.

‘Blimey,’ she laughs. ‘What’s all this?’

She pats my back gently, and I speak into her shoulder, my voice thick and muffled. ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ I mumble. ‘I’m so sorry …’

‘Don’t be stupid, darling,’ she says. ‘I can easily do her a macaroni cheese.’

There is so much I want to say to her that I don’t know where to start. I want to apologise for all those terrible things I haven’t even said yet; to tell her I won’t mean them when I say them, and that she’s the best mum in the world and I’m a useless, pathetic excuse for a son. And I want to warn her about what will happen in – what will it be? – twelve years’ time.

There are a million things I want to say, but I don’t get the chance to say any of them. Because the doorbell interrupts me.

Mum breaks out of the hug and claps her hands together: ‘Right, you let her in, I’ll go and get the baby pictures.’

She laughs at whatever expression I’m currently wearing, and then adds: ‘I’m joking, I’m joking. We can do the baby pictures after lunch.’

She nudges me out of the kitchen. At the end of the hallway I can see Daff’s silhouette through the stained glass on the front door. Oh God. I’m just about getting a handle on seeing Mum again, and now I’ve got to open the door to a nineteen-year-old Daphne. I take a deep breath and try very hard to compose myself.

Through the glass I can see Daff fiddling with her hair, and when I open the door, she stops and smiles at me.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey … you look amazing,’ I say. Because she really does.