‘There’s absolutely no rush,’ Mum insisted before sliding her hand around the back of Dad’s neck and giving it a rub. ‘We’re just happy you’re home, aren’t we, Alan? I never liked you being that far away anyway.’

I silently registered their PDA. This was new.

‘You know, I might go and put my head down for an hour,’ I said, stifling a fake yawn. Perhaps I was hallucinating from exhaustion. ‘Before it gets too late for a nap. Got to beat the jetlag, you know?’

Mum and Dad caught each other’s eye, furtive glance meeting furtive glance. I put down my mug and straightened in my seat. Something was up.

‘Is everything all right?’ I asked.

‘It’s more than all right,’ Dad said. A big, bright smile spread across his face and I watched in horror as he placed his hand on my mother’s thigh. Her actual, upper thigh. And then he squeezed.

‘I could definitely use some shut-eye.’ I stood swiftly, scooping up my socks and getting an unfortunate whiff of myself as I stood. Some shut-eye and a shower. ‘Didn’t really get a lot of sleep on the plane.’

And if my dad’s hand didn’t stop creeping up my mum’s leg, I might never sleep again.

‘Before you go anywhere,’ Dad took Mum’s teacup and placed it back on the tray. ‘We’ve got a surprise for you.’

‘I think you’re going to like it,’ she added, a happy pink flush in her cheeks.

It was exactly what they’d said when they told me Mum was pregnant with Jo. If she hadn’t been very vocal about going through the menopause several years ago, I would have been quite concerned.

‘Come on, this way.’ Dad stood up and beckoned me through to the conservatory. I followed as he opened the French doors and made his way down to the bottom of the garden.

‘Shoes on,’ Mum ordered as I made to follow in my bare feet. ‘It rained earlier and the grass is wet. I don’t want you catching your death on your first day home.’

‘It’s a thousand degrees out there now,’ I muttered but I did as I was told, going back to the kitchen for my trainers before following them outside. Ducking low under the washing line, I met them both at the bottom of the garden.

‘What do you think?’ Dad asked, gesturing to a new shed with an out-of-character flourish.

I looked at the shed. Mum looked at the shed. Dad looked at the shed.

‘It’s a shed,’ I stated.

‘It’s not a shed,’ Dad said with a stern look. He produced a shiny silver key from his pocket and waved it in front of my face. ‘Go on, open her up.’