On the terrace, in the shelter of the glass-covered verandah that faced the sea and stretched nearly the entire width of the house, Rick was in the process of opening a bottle of Prosecco and Willow was placing glasses on the table, which was set ready for lunch. As soon as the weather was warm enough, Mum loved to entertain on the verandah. In her inimitable way, she had made it a very welcoming place, not only with a long rectangular table that could seat ten, the top of which she had painstakingly covered with a mosaic of broken crockery and old tiles, but with old wicker chairs made more comfortable with plump cushions and colourful throws. A bougainvillea planted in an old stone urn grew at one end and ever since Mum had planted it, more than a decade ago, it had thrived in the sheltered sunny spot.

‘Hi Tom! Hi Martha!’ Willow said gaily. ‘Ooh, aren’t those flowers gorgeous? Far prettier than the roses Rick and I bought. Clever you for finding them.’

Leaving Tom to chat with Willow and Rick, Martha stepped through the open French doors to the kitchen. Her mother was standing at the sink, topping and tailing green beans.

‘Hello, Mum,’ she said, kissing her cheek. ‘You look nice. Is that a new dress? Oh, and your hair! You’ve cut your hair!’

‘No flies on you,’ her mother said, kissing her cheek in return. ‘I had it done yesterday. I felt I was in need of a change, a bit of shaking up you could say.’ She laughed. ‘Do you like it?’

‘The dress or the hair?’

‘Both, I suppose. I bought the dress in Chichester, the necklace as well. You don’t think it’s too young for me, do you? Not too short?’

‘Not at all. I … I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in that soft buttery shade of yellow before, and the chunky pearls go nicely with it. The hair’s going to take some getting used to.’

‘Well, as I said, I felt in need of a change. Are those beautiful peonies for me?’

Martha smiled. ‘Of course. Shall I put them in water?’

‘Please, and thank you for always remembering how much I love them. If you fetch that large jug over from the dresser, I’ll fill it.’

‘Is this new as well?’ asked Martha, picking up the surprisingly heavy glass jug and giving it to her mother. ‘I don’t remember seeing it before.’

‘You know me, I can’t resist a bargain. I saw it in a charity shop and thought it rather splendid and just perfect for big blowsy flowers like peonies and hydrangeas.’ She handed it back to Martha. ‘Just plonk the flowers in, I’ll arrange them properly later. You go and join the others in the garden. I’ll finish these beans, then I’ll be ready to join you all for a glass of fizz. I’m parched.’

Removing the cellophane from around the flowers, Martha thought that it wasn’t only her mother’s appearance that was different. Her voice was different too; it was brimming with vitality. In fact, her whole demeanour was vibrating with a peculiar high-spirited energy Martha couldn’t quite identify. Had her mother already enjoyed a glass or two of fizz? If so, it might work in Martha’s favour when the right moment presented itself for her to bring up the subject of selling Anchor House.