‘Not quite,’ she replied as I swept my almonds into one tidy pile. ‘It’s because it fits quite nicely into the pages of a paperback. A real love story – a true, enduring love story with all its ups and down and compromises and ugly and petty and mundane moments – would be longer than a phone book and not nearly as interesting. Grand passion might make for a good read but it doesn’t make for a happy life.’

‘OK,’ I said, filling an empty bag with almonds to avoid looking at the boob that was trying to escape from the left cup of her swimsuit.

‘There’s nothing glamorous about going to bed with a headache and waking up to find your husband has done the dishes but I’m telling you, dearest daughter, I’d take that over a thousand lovestruck Mr Darcys, any day of the week.’

I gasped. Speaking ill of Austen was tantamount to heresy in my mother’s presence.

‘Once the bloom is off the rose of romance, clever doesn’t get you as far as you might like,’ Mum said with her breast now flying free. ‘Same goes for brooding and intense and mysterious. Basically anything you would have looked for in a man when you were studying for an English degree. Throw it all out the window.’

‘Books do a real number on us, don’t they?’ I said with half a laugh.

‘If it weren’t books, it’d be films,’ she nodded. ‘At least you’re literate, I don’t take that for granted. What I will say is, all any mother wants is for her child to be happy and you don’t look especially happy to me.’

I looked at her and frowned. ‘Mum, your boob fell out.’

‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered, promptly putting it away. ‘That’s all I need to hear. That you’re going out with this clever chap because he makes you happy.’

‘He’s not just clever,’ I replied, very interested in my toenails again all at once. ‘He’s lots of things.’

Mum raised her eyebrows in silent rebuttal.

‘He’s fascinating, I could listen to him talk for hours and never get bored,’ I went on, absently stuffing nuts into the little gift bag. ‘He’s travelled all over the world, he loves to learn about new things, he’s really driven. And he’s funny, not ha-ha funny but still really funny. And not to go into detail but I still get butterflies every time I see him. That’s important, isn’t it? At least at the beginning.’

‘Very important,’ Mum agreed. ‘And those are all wonderful qualities but they’re not going to run out and buy you a box of tampons in the middle of the night when you’ve got the flu. What else do you like about him?’