‘I just want things to be right when they get here,’ Martha said, when Willow asked her if there was anything wrong. ‘And just look, the weather’s on the turn. So bang goes my plan to have lunch in the garden!’

‘Don’t worry, what will be, will be,’ said Willow, helping herself to a cheese straw from a dish on the worktop. Her comment elicited a scornful tut from Martha, prompting Willow to ask, for the umpteenth time, what she could do to help.

‘For heaven’s sake, do stop trying to be so bloody helpful!’ snapped Martha. Then she sighed. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be taking my mood out on you.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind. But I wish you’d tell me what’s making you so on edge?’

‘I’d have thought that was obvious. Having Mum and her boyfriend and his stepson here for lunch is hardly normal, is it? It’s completely … completely unnatural.’

‘You didn’t have to invite them. We could have gone down to Anchor House. Or claimed we were both busy.’

‘I know that!’ snapped Martha again. ‘But that doesn’t stop it feeling weird and frankly, just plain wrong.’

What Willow found more wrong and unnatural was the unfamiliar sensation that for the first time ever, she was the sensible calm sister, and Martha was the flighty one who was all over the place. Putting her arm around Martha’s shoulders and feeling how stiff and uptight her body was, she said, ‘It’s bloody bonkers, that’s what it is, but we’ll get through it. Together.’

‘I should never have suggested they come here,’ Martha said faintly, while staring out of the window. ‘But I thought I’d feel better about meeting this stepson of Ellis’s on my home turf. You know, putting them on the back foot, but so far I’m the only one on the back foot.’

‘You’ll be fine. You’ve just put too much thought into this. It really isn’t a big deal. It’s just lunch with—’

‘Mum’s new family!’ interrupted Martha.

‘Potentially our new family,’ said Willow, ‘which is kind of interesting, if you look at it objectively.’

‘I’m not sure interesting is the word I’d use. Or that it’s possible to be remotely objective when it comes to what Mum is doing.’ Frowning, Martha said, ‘What do you really think, is it going to rain?’

‘No idea,’ said Willow, looking outside at the cloudy sky. ‘But even if it buckets down, we can just come inside, can’t we?’

Abruptly Martha leant forward and rapped on the window with her knuckles to attract Tom’s attention. With Rick’s help, he was setting out the cushions on the rattan garden furniture on the patio. He turned around to look enquiringly at Martha through the window. She pointed up at the sky. Willow knew what she was trying to indicate to Tom, but he merely shrugged. There again, that might have been his answer, that he couldn’t predict the weather any more than Willow or Martha could.

What Willow couldn’t predict either was how the afternoon would unfold. She just hoped that everyone would get along, that there would be no awkwardness. For Mum’s sake mostly, because, and despite what Martha might think, none of this could be easy for her.