‘Natasha, Matilda, how lovely to see you both.’ My mother bustles out of the house and wraps us both in tight hugs before stepping back to appraise us. ‘Have you lost weight again, Natasha?’ she asks.

Questions like this are like catnip to my sister, who has always been very conscious of her figure.

‘I don’t know,’ she says coyly. ‘Maybe a pound or two?’

I have to smile. Tash will know exactly how much she’s put on or lost since she was here last, so I’m not fooled by her false vagueness.

‘You look well, Matilda,’ Mum says, turning to me. ‘I do worry about you, working such funny hours. Are you sure there aren’t any nice regular nursing jobs you’re interested in? You’re not getting any younger and, if you’re going to meet someone and settle down…’

Now it’s Tash’s turn to smile, as we both know ‘looking well’ is Mum’s term for ‘a bit plump’. She’s also continually on my case about the fact that, unlike my sister, I don’t yet have a husband in tow. Mum feels very strongly that a woman isn’t complete until she’s married with a family of her own, and I think my single status bothers her even more than it does me. I’m fully aware that the clock is ticking, and I don’t find her reminders particularly useful.

‘It’s fine, Mum,’ I tell her. ‘All the running around keeps me trim and, as I keep telling you, thirty-four is hardly my dotage.’

‘Hmm,’ she replies, evidently unconvinced. ‘And how’s this little man?’ she asks, turning to Isaac.

‘’Lo, Nanna,’ he says. ‘Have you got crisps?’

‘Of course, but not until you’ve eaten all your dinner, OK? Why don’t we go inside and say hello to everyone. Greg, Natasha tells me you’re doing terribly well at work.’

* * *

Despite Mum’s remarks about my relationship status and my weight which, as a nurse, I happen to know is in the healthy BMI range and therefore fine, I do enjoy spending time with my parents and step-parents. Soon after the divorce, Andy put a substantial conservatory on the back of his and Mum’s house, so there would always be a space for large family gatherings. It contains, among other things, an extending table capable of seating sixteen people, as long as they know each other very well. Not to be outdone, Dad spent a fortune upgrading the kitchen at his and Gloria’s, so large, steaming dishes can often be seen being carried through the gate in the garden fence that was put there when we were children. It is a little like living in a commune; in fact, I’m surprised sometimes that they didn’t just knock the two houses together.