‘Yes, but that’s another story, and one that I agree doesn’t cover your sister in glory. Trying to make him buy a flat when he’s got no money and leaving copies of Brides magazine lying around. But the point is, Ant would never speak badly of anyone.’

There was no disputing this. Ant had been going out with Helena for years, he was a local boy and was very much part of the family. But the only contact Ant had with Michael was professional, which was bound to be fraught, as I pointed out to Mum now.

‘Actors hate critics. They’re scared of them, it’s well known.’

‘Not all of them, he says. He says Michael can be spiteful.’

This was unusual for Mum, who, equally, rarely had a bad word for anyone, and I looked at her in surprise. ‘In his writing, yes. Sardonic, satirical humour. Acerbic, sometimes. But also very funny. That’s his job, and also his trademark. Surely Ant can see that?’

‘Of course he can,’ said Dad, coming in and reaching for a bottle of red from the wine rack for lunch. He put it between his knees and pulled the cork, then did the same with another. ‘And personally, I think children have got to make their own decisions. So if we could have an end to all this girly chitter-chatter, I’d be grateful. The De Courcys are even now making their way up the drive in their new Jag, Nancy no doubt POA –pissed on arrival – and in need of a sharpener to stop her sobering up and becoming belligerent. Cecily, what’s that fillet doing sitting on the side? It surely needs a canter round the oven, no?’ He reached across and popped the beef in the Aga. ‘Rare is one thing. Heart still beating is another.’

Dad’s word, as ever, was final and we shut up. I was still slightly seething and Mum was clearly flustered, having uncharacteristically spoken out as coached by Helena. Through we went, however, both a bit pink, to greet Nance and Martin. The former was indeed POA and we settled down to enjoy a noisy, convivial luncheon. No more was said that weekend on the matter, my mother, not the bravest, clearly feeling she’d done her bit. I’m not sure Helena would have agreed.

I’d made an excuse to Michael about going home on my own. Usually we were together at the weekends. I’d said it was to do with talking about inheritance tax or something. My family never talked about things like that. They wouldn’t know what it was if it slapped them in the face, which it probably would one day. But I knew Michael would fall for it, seeing as it was a subject he knew a great deal about.