She can see the joy, its warm fireplace colours, pass between the grandparents as they hug their beloved and only grandchild: holding her tight, commenting on her lovely height and how much she has shot up in the three weeks since they last saw her. And Becky knows in that moment that although she can easily recall the exhaustion of those early days, she cannot inhabit that place again where she was prepared to give her daughter up for adoption. To think of a life without this gorgeous, funny, happy girl whose arms are folded around her grandmother, comparing each other’s heights. No one in that kitchen can imagine a life without her: not her, not Adam, not the grandparents who plan their summer holidays just so they can spend time with their beloved granddaughter.

Adam yanks at a champagne bottle’s cork and the wine bubbles and spills like water from a garden hose, and there is laughter in unison at the indulgent waste and the humour and mess of it all. Adam passes everyone a glass as they take their places at the kitchen table.

‘Thank you,’ Becky says, taking her glass, her body tired but her mind restless, roaming, rebellious. She thinks of her family and her film, a new beginning, and she sips her champagne. From boardroom to kitchen, has she had a glass in her hand all day? Is this the happiest day of her life?

Becky’s phone beeps – a text message, from Matthew – and her heart leaps with anxiety. Agreements now ready for signature. Boardroom meeting first thing Monday. ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I’ll turn it off.’

‘Spielberg calling?’ says Adam, scooping himself a marshmallow square.

‘We all think you’re doing so well,’ says Grandma T, pulling a hair out her mouth. ‘We told Audrey about it and she said that the chance of making a film is lower than the chance of … of, what was it?’ She turns to her husband to corroborate a thought, complete a sentence. ‘A comet hitting earth?’

‘Honestly, Margot. Stop exaggerating. I think it was higher than the lottery …’

‘No, she didn’t say that …’

‘It’s a huge achievement anyway,’ says Adam, knowing that the conversation is more likely to end in a cul-de-sac about Audrey’s knees rather than something conclusive about a film being made. ‘Presents?’

Maisie applauds, a lasso of streamer curling out of a lightly bunched fist, and her grandparents laugh.

‘Family first, or Any Other Business?’ Adam says. AOB is what they call presents from people who aren’t family. It’s a funny little Adam-thing from one year when he ran Maisie’s birthday like a corporate meeting, just to amuse her. AOB has stuck and it became the way they’ve always done their birthdays. An inheritance for Maisie. Will she do AOB with her own children one day?

Becky’s head isn’t really here. She tries to wrench it back.