‘Ned! You’re an effing vicar! That is so uncharitable. Do you not think I’ve got some sort of kind, familial motivation too?’

‘Of course. You love looking after people, and you’re brilliant at it. Look at me and Imo – we could have been basket cases but we’ve turned out all right, hopefully. And all thanks to you. You’ve pretty much devoted your life to us, for which I’m eternally grateful, by the way. But now you’re going to do it for Granny and Grandpa. When actually, it’s your turn.’

I gaped at my tall, good-looking, fair-haired boy, who’d given up his own life purely in the service of God and others. But I knew, even as I was about to say it, that actually, he hadn’t. Ned was doing exactly what he wanted to do. He always had done. He’d always been true to himself. I regarded my son and my sister, the latter triumphant at being backed up by her intelligent nephew, but clearly battling with a pyrrhic victory, because naturally, she also wanted the parental problem solved.

I snorted with derision. ‘Anyone would think I didn’t have a career! Didn’t do anything for myself!’

Ned inclined his head, conceding this, but not saying, as I knew he was thinking – ah yes, the career. The convenient, solitary one. The one that always kept a weather eye on any trouble. Because there was no denying it had been mutually convenient. It might have worked for Michael, but it worked for me, too. When the children were young, arriving home from school, I’d always been there: always been on hand to deflect any unpleasantness. And I’m not sure cooking in a boardroom in the City or running a catering company elsewhere would have afforded me that. Certainly in the holidays. Which were often a diplomatic minefield, as Michael’s irritation at having the children around bubbled over. Or boiled. We were silent, the two of us, as all the years of dodging and diving, of ducking and weaving, flooded back. The bad memories. The necessary compromises.

‘But of course, it’s a laudable decision,’ said Ned quickly, seeing my face. It might have collapsed a bit. ‘And G and G will be delighted, I won’t deny that.’

‘They will, won’t they?’ I said, brightening. I was looking forward to telling them.

‘Undoubtedly. But I’m telling you right now,’ he grinned and tossed his car keys in the air. Caught them. ‘I’m not protecting you from Imo.’

‘Ha! Neither am I!’ agreed Helena. She kissed us and scuttled off to her car. Ned kissed me too and went to his. As I watched my sister purr past me in her BMW her smile was annoyingly smug.

7