And it wasn’t just my sisters who had a tendency to ride roughshod over me. I thought for a moment of all the career opportunities I’d turned down to look after the kids or support Harry’s business or appease my mother. But now I was the headline in my own news scoop – ‘Betrayed Wife and Jaded Mum of Two Discovers Late-Life Romance – oh, and Multiple Orgasms’. Brody knew how to make a girl wake up smiling. High-kicking and horseback riding might be difficult after the previous night, but smiling – a cinch. And, for once, I wasn’t going to give up what felt right.

‘It’s time you both let me make my own mistakes. Only, it’s not a mistake. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’

Emerald put her arm around my shoulders. ‘It’s clearly just your fanny talking. And I should know. Mine’s been chatting away for weeks!’

‘I think so too, Ruby,’ Amber said. ‘You’re just having a severe libido attack. Time to get real.’

‘But, Emerald, you’re the one who said how splendid it is when the sex is so intoxicating that it takes over your whole imagination. You said you’d jump off tall buildings or stop speeding trains just to feel that life force. Didn’t you?’

‘Yes, but I wouldn’t throw over my whole life . . . what life you have left, I mean.’ Emerald searched for the right words, other than ‘You are batshit crazy’, which I could tell from her face she felt most succinctly summed up the scenario. ‘Have you told Doctor Love about Kev?’

My deceit kept catching me unawares. Now was the time to come clean about the misdiagnosis. I girded my loins, drew in a deep breath – then shrank back in fear. I was just too bloody cowardly. I decided to write them an email outlining the whole sorry saga. I’d send it on the first day back on dry land, when I was out of range of their fury – especially now that Emerald sported stilettos sharp enough to perform a labial augmentation with one quick kick. Amber had developed a foul-mouthed tongue sharp enough to cut glass. That would give them time to cool off and hopefully forgive me.

‘Well?’ Amber prodded.

‘No . . . But it wouldn’t matter. Brody’s in love with me.’

My sisters sat there, their faces as animated as Easter Island statues.

‘And if the kids look at me as if an alien has taken over my body and say “What have you done with our real mother?” I’m just going to smile and say, “Maybe this is your real mother!”’

‘What do you mean?’ Emerald’s Easter Island statue moved its judgmental jaw.