‘I’m sure Izzie will say sorry to you later, poppet,’ George said, glancing over at Em as he put the frying pan in the draining rack.

Jack snorted. ‘I’m sure she won’t,’ he muttered, ambling over towards the door.

‘Er – bowl in the dishwasher, please,’ Em reminded him, feeling her fuse becoming shorter by the second. ‘Anyway. Who wants to go to the beach today? I’ve found one that sounds lovely. Come and see, Seren,’ she added, holding up her iPad, where she’d found the description online.

Seren didn’t move, though. ‘I want her to say sorry now,’ she whined, leaning against George at the sink. ‘Daddy,’ she prompted when he didn’t react. ‘I want her to say sorry now. She upset me.’

‘Here we are,’ Em persisted, reading aloud from the iPad. ‘Gyllyngvase Beach is one of only five beaches in Cornwall to be awarded the Blue Flag. There’s great swimming and rock-pooling, beach volleyball nets, a café . . . Ooh, and sometimes you can see dolphins, apparently.’ She read a little further. ‘Ah. If you have binoculars, it says. Anyone brought any binoculars? No, me neither. Well, anyway, we can sit on the sand and imagine the dolphins out there, which will be nearly as good, won’t it?’

‘Not really,’ said Jack, kicking the dishwasher door shut, which sent everything rattling inside. He’d been in a proper grump since yesterday, when bad-influence Amelia had gone off to Devon on an impromptu visit to see her dad, or something. (Unlike her son, Em wasn’t terribly sorry about that little departure.)

‘And,’ she went on, ignoring this unhelpful interruption, ‘it’s only a few miles away, so there’s no boring long car journey. We can make up a picnic, grab our swimming things and towels – and Bob’s your uncle. One fantastic day coming up! Who’s with me?’

Jack had sloped out of the room and Seren was staring petulantly at the lino, but at least George was twinkling his eyes and smiling. ‘Right behind you, Captain,’ he said, with a soapsud-speckled mock-salute.

‘Ooh, good, I hope so,’ she replied flirtatiously, feeling marginally better. She got to her feet and then bawled, ‘Going in fifteen minutes’ up the stairs to her bad-tempered teens. ‘Brush your teeth, find your swimming things, shout me any sandwich requests. Let’s get this show on the road!’

Em put every single fun thing she could think of in the car – cricket set, Frisbee, buckets, spades, flippers, snorkels, you name it – and tried to gee herself up as they set off soon afterwards. Who didn’t love a day at the beach? Everyone would get over their differences and enjoy themselves, she told herself bracingly.