There are two exits from the Terminal 5 baggage hall, one at each end, and I must have looked like a manic tennis fan at Wimbledon, with my head continually switching from one side to the other, as if following the ball, checking each exit every few seconds, with eagerness and anticipation.

As people came past me, pushing their laden luggage trolleys, I tried in vain to read their baggage labels to see if they had arrived on the Amsterdam flight.

And then, quite suddenly, Marina and Saskia were in sight, coming out of the left-hand exit among a large gaggle of other passengers.

I ducked under the chrome rail and went forward to meet them, my heart in my mouth.

It was Sassy who saw me first, and she ran forward, giving me a tight hug around my waist. But I kept my eyes fixed on Marina, trying to read her body language.

She smiled at me and I could see that there were tears in her eyes.

She gave me a hug and I winced. She pulled back.

‘What have you done to yourself?’ she asked with concern.

‘Nothing much. It’s just a scratch,’ I said, playing it down. ‘I just have to have my right hand strapped to my chest for the next week to prevent any swelling.’

She looked worried. ‘But how can you drive?’

I smiled at her. ‘I have another hand, remember. I use that.’

We went outside and took the lift up to the car park. I put the ticket into the payment machine and paid the parking charge.

‘I would offer to drive,’ Marina said. ‘But I had a couple of glasses of champagne at Schiphol, and another on the flight.’

I wondered if it had been, appropriately, for Dutch courage.

‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m used to it by now. I drove all the way home from Yorkshire left-handed yesterday afternoon.’

She looked across at me but remained silent as I unlocked the Discovery and lifted her suitcase, left-handed, into the boot.

‘I spoke to Charles yesterday morning,’ she said when we were all safely strapped in, with Saskia on her booster seat in the back, and I had backed out of the parking space.

‘I know,’ I replied. ‘He told me.’

‘Oh.’ She seemed surprised. ‘What did he say?’

‘Only that you’d called him. He wouldn’t tell me what you’d said.’

Marina sighed slightly. ‘I didn’t really say much. In fact, he did most of the talking.’

I glanced across at her, but she was now determinedly looking straight forward through the windscreen as we exited the car park.

Only when we had left the airport and were already on the M25 did I speak again.

‘How is your dad doing today?’ I asked.

Marina didn’t answer immediately but briefly glanced back at Saskia sitting behind me.

‘She’s asleep.’