‘In our day it was Richard Chamberlain,’ their mother observed, unwittingly succumbing to her daughters’ distraction techniques. ‘There’s nothing new about that.’

‘Oh yes, The Thorn Birds,’ Melissa said, remembering. ‘Wasn’t he gorgeous? And then there was that priest in Jamaica Inn before that.’

‘Really?’ Maudie contrived to look completely fascinated. ‘Any more you can think of? Are those your cigarettes, Melissa? I didn’t know you smoked.’

‘Only occasionally.’

‘Helena smokes occasionally, but she doesn’t think we know.’

Helena looked at Ant, exasperated. ‘Take them away!’

‘I’m trying!’ He wrung his hands hopelessly.

The twins got up with weary sighs. ‘We’ll go. For your sake, Lucy. We don’t want Ant and Helena’s woeful lack of parenting skills to add to what has already been a very difficult day for you. It’s embarrassing enough for us to witness it, let alone you and Melissa. How long is Imo staying for, do you know?’

‘Not long, I’m afraid.’

‘Shall we quickly go and ask her?’

‘No!’ squealed their parents in despair.

More eye-rolling from my nieces but out they trudged, with much mock staggering and weakness at the knees, blowing us kisses as they went. As Ant hustled them off to the car, telling them that of course they didn’t need to say goodbye to everyone again, they’d done that twenty minutes ago, Helena suddenly got up and darted after them, fussing over Tess’s trailing skirt hem.

Melissa and I exchanged amused smiles. Helena’s lack of parental control was a joy for the rest of us to behold. So strident, so successful in every other sphere of her life, yet so utterly subjugated by her frisky, mercurial, fourteen-year-old daughters. Ant was always going to be a pushover as a parent, no surprise there, but the fact that Helena was too had been a glorious revelation. Had the twins been anything other than sweet-natured and joyous, it could have been a disaster, but they weren’t, so it wasn’t. They’d inherited Ant’s easy-going temperament, together with Helena’s high spirits.

They were replaced by my own children, who came across to join us. ‘All right, Mum?’ asked Ned, putting a hand on my shoulder.

‘Yes thanks, darling.’ I patted his hand. Looked up into his kind blue eyes. ‘All the better for a stiff gin, though.’ Then I made a face. ‘Well, it’s a single actually, what your grandfather would call a dirty glass. I’m driving.’

‘I think Granny and Grandpa are wondering if it’s OK to go?’ asked Imo, perching on the chair arm Tess had vacated. I looked at her slim, delicate face, her pale blue eyes, so like her brother’s, etched with worry. She hadn’t seen her grandparents for a while and had been shocked at the change in them.