‘Paradise. I don’t want to eat another chop for, well, a week anyway. You can get tired of meat three times a day. But you need to eat it all in a few days.’

‘A whole sheep? The four of you?’

‘Yep. Well, half a sheep. Usually give the other half to Flinty — she’s got a freezer — or Nicholas and Felicity, though he and the kids are the only ones who eat it. Felicity’s gone vegetarian.’ Nancy shook her head. ‘A vegetarian in our family!’ It was hard to tell if she was joking.

‘How are the boys?’

‘Thriving. Keeping up with their schoolwork too. Clancy sold one of his photos to a magazine for a hundred and fifty dollars. Imagine, making all that just from a photo.’

‘He’s probably going to make a lot more than that. He’s good.’

‘Still seems odd.’

‘Still seems weird that I get paid for writing books. Doesn’t seem real sometimes that people actually read them, even when I get fan mail. It’s as though the publishers send me money twice a year out of the goodness of their hearts.’

‘I thought only rock stars like the Beatles got fan mail.’

Jed grinned. ‘Writers get it too. And answer them. I’ll go get that coffee. Here’s Scarlett’s letter, if you want to read it.’

‘Would you mind reading it out to me? I didn’t bring my reading glasses.’

Reading glasses? Nancy? Jed supposed she was nearing seventy now. Impossible for Nancy to be that old. ‘But bring the iced coffee first,’ added Nancy, resting her legs up on the pouffe that Mattie had drawn a crayon face on, and Sam had laughed so much that they’d left it there.

Jed settled herself on the sofa as Nancy slowly sipped.

‘Dearest Jed,

‘It was so good to hear your voice on the phone! But don’t worry, I am over being homesick now I am finally settled in the flat with Susan. You’d love the flat, all high ceilings and low doors and windows that look over a thousand roofs and the Castle up above us all. Old Town is really OLD.

‘I’m beginning to like Angus, now he’s getting used to me and I’m starting to understand his accent. He comes from an island no one has ever heard of — only about forty families, smaller than Gibber’s Creek. He’s the only one on the whole island who’s ever been to uni and they are all proud of him.

‘His mum and aunts send him a new jumper every month or so. He even gave one to me, which means he must approve of me, even if I only understood half of what he said, something about a wee scrap like me being blown away in the wind if I didn’t wear something to keep me settled.