‘Do you want me to tell you or not?’ she says, glaring at me.

I nod my head and she continues.

‘The thing is, Margaret,’ she says, twisting her diamond ring between her finger and thumb, ‘you are more like your mother than you realize.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’m talking about living in a fantasy world,’ she says. ‘Living beyond your means. Your poor father mortgaged himself up to the hilt so his darling Marion could live her “Country Life” dream and it seems the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.’

‘How dare you bring my parents into this,’ I say, anger burning through me. ‘They were worth a thousand of you. All this, the Sussex country set, the parties, the etiquette, it’s just bullshit.’

‘Oh, really?’ says Barbara. ‘If that’s the case then why did you force your poor husband to saddle himself with crippling debt so you could live in your childhood home? If it’s all “bullshit” as you put it then why did you move back here?’

‘Debt?’ I say. ‘What debt?’

‘Sean was up to his eyeballs,’ cries Barbara, throwing her arms in the air. ‘He had a good income but not enough to pay that huge mortgage. After the financial crash his wages were capped and he started to take out loans. Loans he couldn’t afford.’

‘How do you know all this?’ I say, my head spinning.

‘Just let me finish,’ she says. ‘He couldn’t afford the repayment on those loans so he turned to credit cards. The debts mounted up. He tried to remortgage Larkfields but he was seen as high risk by the bank.’

‘No,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘You’re lying. If Sean was in this kind of trouble I would have known. He would have told me.’

‘Oh for God’s sake, snap out of your bloody fantasy world,’ says Barbara. ‘He didn’t tell you because he was scared. You were happy to be a full-time mother living the country-house dream and faffing about with bits of writing. Sean knew you were mentally unstable. He was terrified that if he told you the house was under threat you’d have some sort of relapse.’

I try to speak but no words will come out. I feel like I’ve entered some parallel world.

‘Anyway, poor chap was at his wits’ end,’ continues Barbara, oblivious to my distress. ‘Bills and final demands were coming in left, right and centre. He’d just found out that the bank had turned down his request to remortgage when he and Harry got talking in the pub. Harry asked if he was okay and out it all poured. As soon as he mentioned you and the little one and how you could be made homeless Harry stepped in and offered to buy Larkfields.’

‘Why would he do that?’