‘Food wasn’t great, but the room was perfectly pleasant,’ Kirsten said. ‘To think we used to complain when we had to queue for an hour at customs. Now it’s seven days’ quarantine, and another five when I land back in the UK.’

A stocky man in a dark suit opened the BMW’s rear doors before placing Kirsten’s luggage in the trunk.

‘This is my good friend and driver, Rex,’ Charlie explained, walking to the far side of the car as Kirsten slid into the plush leather interior and peered into a crib. ‘And the little guy in the middle is your great nephew, Harry.’

‘He’s so tiny,’ Kirsten cooed, taking a big sniff of baby smell. ‘How old is he now?’

‘Four months,’ Charlie said. ‘But he came out a few weeks early, so he’s extra small.’

‘Is he a clone of Harry?’ Kirsten asked.

Charlie shook her head. ‘Clones still have horrible health issues. The embryo was seventy per cent Harry’s DNA, thirty mine, plus seventeen mods. I only wanted him to have mods that would enhance his immune system, but the clinic persuaded me that you have to give a boy athletic and intelligence mods these days, or they’ll have a miserable time at school with kids that do.’

‘Did you carry him?’

Charlie shook her head. ‘I’ve been super busy, with college, coffee shops and the drop-in centres. I had to use a surrogate.’

‘And how old are the other two now?’ Kirsten asked.

‘Patrick’s ten next month,’ Charlie said as the BMW drove itself on to an airport access road. ‘He picked up a muscle-wasting disease from a tick bite last year. He’s fine now, but he missed eight months of school. I’ve had to get him a tutor to catch up, which isn’t the most popular decision I’ve ever made …

‘Ed’s twenty-two and doing great. He’s on a new medication for brain-injury patients. It has helped with his anxiety, and he hasn’t fitted in more than a year. He met a girl online and he still lives with me, but he has a self-contained apartment, and he drives to and from college and cooks most of his own meals.’

‘I look forward to meeting them both,’ Kirsten said.

‘How’s life across the pond?’ Charlie asked.

‘London was where Killer-T started, so it’s grim,’ Kirsten said. ‘The rest of the UK isn’t so bad. My father, Harry’s grandfather, passed last year. I’ve got a little restaurant in Devon. Only twenty-two seats. Lots of fish and locally grown produce. I enjoy the challenge of not being able to phone a supplier and get an ingredient flown from anywhere in the world.’

‘Didn’t Channing’s reopen at the Algarve?’ Charlie asked.