All was very bright, and very sparkling. In fact, it took my eyes a moment to acclimatize. The ceiling positively sang with spotlights, and in their gleam, a glorious open-plan space was illuminated. The fact that there was no segmented hallway or pokey rooms was not a surprise, that much I’d already witnessed. Most of the internal walls had come down a while ago, but nothing could prepare me for the spaciousness, now that the more decorative tradesmen had worked their magic. The large, bright room with its pale wooden floor, its recently plastered walls still drying, albeit with a few electric wires hanging, was a revelation. The transformation from ugly fifties interior to elegant spacious living was extraordinary. I realized it was pretty much ready for painting. The windows were all new, and stylish sash, and at the far end, generous French windows with wide panes led on to the garden. My parents turned their delighted faces to mine, to gauge my reaction. I lit up accordingly.

‘It’s amazing!’ I enthused, and so thrilled were they that they didn’t spot the effort it was costing me to be animated.

‘Isn’t it?’ Dad squealed, and my father doesn’t squeal. ‘And look – look at the kitchen.’

But my mother had already raced ahead – yes, raced – and was disappearing through a wide archway. I followed into an elegant space, with arched, spotlit alcoves which mirrored the entrance. The pale wooden floor ran throughout, and a pantry, minus a door, was in the corner. At the other end was another French window.

‘Obviously once the cupboards are in it will look a lot better,’ Mum was saying, stroking the slate shelf in the pantry. ‘But isn’t it neat? Don’t you love it?’

‘I do,’ I agreed, following them as they shuffled out and down the hall to the bedrooms, realizing they loved it. And it came to me, as I don’t think it had come to them, that of course, it would be ideal for them. Not me. It was all on one level. It was clean. It was new. There were two double bedrooms.

‘One for you,’ Mum was telling me, ‘and one for guests, or when Imo and Ned come.’