‘I’m so glad you’re here, we were almost starving to death!’ Frankie, who was seven, said, jabbing his fork in the air. ‘Grandma said we weren’t allowed any more bread until you finally bothered to turn up.’

‘I honestly thought she might explode if you didn’t get here soon,’ Elana added, her dark eyes serious. ‘Things were getting quite stressful.’

‘Bea,’ my brother, nearest to the door, stood up and gave me a peck on the cheek.

‘Auntie Bea, you look very messy,’ my youngest niece announced. ‘Your hair is all wet and tangled and there’s black marks down your face.’

‘Shhh, Daisy!’ Jed’s wife, Mia, said. ‘That’s rude.’

‘It’s not rude it’s the truth!’ Daisy shrugged, her blonde curls bobbing. ‘And it’s not fair because you said that we had to look pretty and smart and that’s why I had to brush my hair and wasn’t allowed to wear my Rudolph onesie even though it’s nearly Christmas and you said it was rude to look like a scruffpot for Grandma’s special dinner so Auntie Bea is the one that’s rude not me!’

‘She’s got a point,’ Elana said, adjusting her glasses.

‘Well, excuse me!’ I retorted, hands on my hips as if genuinely offended. ‘I fought through a snowstorm to get here, arctic gale whipping at my face, skin turning to ice, wolves chasing me through the woods, a goblin jumping out at me from behind a bush… let alone the town-centre traffic! So excuse me if I don’t look as perfect as all you gorgeous people. We can’t all be stunningly beautiful as well as charming and intelligent!’ I squeezed down the gap between the enormous dining table and the sideboard as I spoke, kissing each of the children on the top of their head. ‘Besides, I’ll have you know that this is all the rage for weather presenters these days. Scruffpot chic, we call it! So there.’

I stopped at the final chair on this side of the table, where Nana Joy was sitting, her blue eyes looking far from sleepy as she twisted around to face me. ‘Oh, now look at this! It’s…’

There was a momentary pause.