Mum and Jeannie were beside themselves now, noses practically touching across the table, about dear old Max Harrison, who, at Towcester the other day, had offered his services to the clerk of the course to ride in the four thirty after an injured jockey retired. He’d last ridden in a point-to-point in Tripoli before weighing in was in the rule book.

‘Should have taken him up on it!’ roared my father, who, together with the pudding wine, had brought in a plastic tub of Wall’s Neapolitan ice cream, which looked circa 1990. He began doling it out. ‘He’s a first-class jockey, won the four hundred guineas at Cheltenham in ’sixty-six. They missed a trick there. Dear God. There they are.’ He stared. The next spoonful had brought up, like a fishing trawler, a pair of spectacles. ‘Good Lord. I’d quite given up hope. Dickie! Remember I accused you of theft and grand larceny last time you were here hoovering up my victuals? Look what I’ve just found!’

My father had a cavernous voice and Dickie, who’d nodded off again, jerked awake. Everyone bellowed with laughter as Dad dipped the glasses in the water jug and set them aside. Pudding and wine consumed, Jeannie suddenly pushed back her chair and declared it was time. I assumed they were off, but to my surprise everyone got up with alacrity and my parents led the way back into the sitting room. They all shuffled behind the sofa, where, I’d failed to notice earlier, our old bridge table was set up. With much apologizing to me, they hustled eagerly to their seats, and then proceeded to play at least six hands of bridge.

‘What, after all that wine?’ Helena said dubiously when I rang her later.

‘Sharp as tacks, all of them. It was like they’d suddenly come alive. Snapped into gear. Huge cards, obviously, for Jeannie and Mum, and pressed right up to noses, but all sitting ramrod straight, even Dickie. Highly competitive too, and complete silence all round, only speaking when it was their turn to bid. Extraordinary! I felt like the old granny, sitting by the fire with the colour supplement.’

Helena was silent. And, I could tell, slightly disappointed. ‘But how did they get home?’ she demanded. ‘If they’d drunk all that wine? And Dickie’s inclined to nod off and Jeannie’s half-blind?’

‘Camilla came for them at about five. I hadn’t realized she’d dropped them off too. Remember Camilla? The daughter?’

‘Yes, had a bit of a nervy breaky after the ghastly Torquil left her, but used to be rather fun. A huge party girl.’