‘Has she?’ This pleased my mother no end. She came and perched on a sofa arm, avidly. She looked very fresh, for one who’d left hospital so recently, dressed in a pink frock and a pearl-grey cardigan. But then if she’d been in bed all day she’d probably have spent most of it asleep. And no drink, I was pleased to see.

‘Yes, she’s always saying how hers is too big, and how manageable this is. Prettier, too.’

‘Well, of course it is prettier. It’s Queen Anne,’ purred my mother delightedly. Nance would never have admitted this to her, they were fiercely competitive. And it wasn’t Queen Anne, actually – it missed the period by a long way – but my mother never let the truth stand in the way of a good story.

‘Needs work, of course,’ said Dad, turning to Dan in a man-to-man sort of way. ‘The roof is sound, but the lean-to on the study side leaks like buggery.’

‘Probably take that down?’ suggested Dan.

‘Oh yes, I’ve always wanted to do that. And have a lovely conservatory there instead,’ said Mum eagerly.

‘Orangerie, you told me,’ Dad reminded her, raising his eyebrows. ‘I’ve run scared ever since.’

They all laughed, and actually I joined in. And then, on my mother’s instruction, we drifted through to the kitchen, where the curtains were drawn, and the Aga was warm. The room looked inviting. I was surprised to see Mum had laid the table beautifully, with a cloth, flowers and candles. She saw me look.

‘I can do it,’ she told me quietly. ‘Just wasn’t really trying before.’

She’d had a shock. They both had. A nasty one. Neither of them was ready to go yet. To be gathered, as my father would say. But they knew they had to make a fist of staying on. As if to illustrate, my mother then produced a pie from the oven, which was not one of mine.

‘Stop it,’ I told her, as I sat down. I was feeling better by the minute.

‘Yes, but it’s a cheat, actually. It’s leftover chicken in a chicken soup sauce with frozen pastry on top. But heavens, it works. Look!’ She cut into it and we all marvelled. Even when we tasted it. Hardly Cordon Bleu, but extremely edible nonetheless. And Dad had made a fruit salad for pudding.