Several miles inland, Em was sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair, drinking black coffee from a cardboard cup and waving intermittently at Seren and George as they became visible in one of the corners of the vast soft-play area before vanishing again. The air was thick with the sound of shrieks and the smell of wet nappies, her coffee had come from a vending machine and was atrociously bad, and the couple at the next table to hers were having a massive hissy row. Everything was brightly coloured and seemed unpleasantly dazzling to the eye, not least because of the scant amount of sleep she’d had the night before. Her head throbbed. Maybe this was the catch to the relationship, after all. Terms and conditions apply.

Admittedly the lack of sleep had been mostly due to the combination of unfamiliar bed and very handsome boyfriend, and she certainly wasn’t complaining about that, but then Seren had come in at three o’clock in the morning, saying plaintively that she’d had a bad dream, and Em had spent the rest of the night in a half-awake hinterland, alert to every last creak and groan of the cottage’s timbers, unable to drift into slumber once more. (George, meanwhile, had fallen instantly back asleep, thereby proving that it wasn’t only Dom, Em’s ex, who possessed this enviable skill.)

The bad night had had its coffin nails hammered fully in when Seren returned shortly after seven, to say that she was hungry and wanted breakfast. Any normal person might have grunted and let the child’s actual parent take over this duty, but idiotic Em had insisted on getting up and playing the part of hostess, hurriedly dabbing on some tinted moisturizer and a lick of mascara and then getting stuck in. Hot drinks for her and George, warm milk for Seren, and then she’d whipped up a batch of fluffy American pancakes, which she served with streaky bacon and maple syrup. ‘Wow,’ laughed George as she presented him with a plate heaped high. ‘I’m coming to this restaurant again.’ Even Seren stopped looking quite so surly for a few minutes as she drowned the pancakes with syrup and dug in.

‘This looks like a fun place to go!’ Em had cried later that morning, holding up the leaflet for the petting zoo she’d found amidst the cottage’s information pack. Jack had already informed her that he was going out with a girl he’d met from the next cottage; and Izzie, facing the prospect of being the sole teen stuck with the adults and Seren, had grudgingly opted for her brother’s company instead. No problem, Em had thought, trying to maintain her holiday sparkle. In that case, Seren could be the centre of attention.

‘There are loads of animals, a little train ride, a playground . . . all sorts of stuff,’ she went on. ‘What do you think, Seren?’