‘But Mum, you go,’ said Imo softly. ‘I know that feeling. Of wanting to be a million miles away.’

I thought of her in New York. Looked at her gratefully.

‘Yes, go,’ Helena agreed, suddenly realizing too. The old terror surfacing. ‘If she so much as sets a foot in here, Ant will sort her out.’

Ant, the mildest of men, and the least likely to sort anyone out, was looking at his phone, but glanced up at his name. ‘Eh? What? D’you know, it says here that in the sixteenth century the cure for female hysteria was lower pelvic massage.’

Maudie’s head whipped round. She seized his phone, and as her father tried to grab it back, tossed it to Tess.

‘But that a cure for the now defunct medical condition,’ Tess read quickly, ‘was made possible by a new technological advance – the vibrator.’ Her eyes widened.

‘Thank you, girls.’ Ant snatched it back.

I grinned and stood up. ‘Well, on that note, I’m off.’

‘God, imagine Ant trying to calm three women down with a vibrator outside church.’ Maudie’s eyes boggled.

‘And the vicar walks out,’ said Tess. ‘Typical of some man, though, don’t you think, to decide female hysterics are caused by sexual frustration.’

‘Like all we need is them,’ agreed her sister, ‘and their – you know.’

‘Dicks,’ whispered Tess.

Imo came round the table to hug me. ‘Will you be all right driving?’

‘Perfectly all right. Will you?’

‘I came with Ned, in an Uber.’

‘OK.’ We hugged hard. An awful lot was said in that hug.

‘Text me when you get to G and G’s.’

‘Will do,’ I promised.