Adding the platter of flatbreads to the tray and picking up a jug of iced water, she said, ‘Come on, let’s go and rescue Ellis, heaven only knows what the girls are putting him through.’

When they stepped outside and Naomi saw the blatantly hostile expression on Martha’s face her heart sank. Willow on the other hand, while playing with a pretty gold necklace around her neck, was smiling and listening to Ellis saying how much he was enjoying living in Tilsham.

‘Perhaps it’s because you have such excellent neighbours,’ joined in Naomi.

‘Or very easily charmed neighbours,’ muttered Martha.

‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,’ said Naomi with forced brightness, as though treating Martha’s comment as a joke. ‘Well, don’t just sit there, you girls, help to make space on the table so Tom and I can put these things down.’

Throughout the meal, Martha found herself constantly cringing at her mother’s over-the-top jolliness. But then hated herself for thinking so badly of her. Which only added to her annoyance that once again she was being so horribly unpleasant.

In any other situation she would probably like Ellis Ashton. He had, she couldn’t deny, an easy way about him. Not pushy or trying too hard to make a good impression, just pleasantly genial as though he had nothing to prove. Except, as far as she was concerned, he had it all to prove.

Across the table, she observed him asking Willow about her job and what it entailed and found herself thinking that he had the sort of voice that caught one’s attention. There was a warmth to it, a reassuring cadence that was almost hypnotic. Listening to him, she had a sudden mental picture of him being a hostage negotiator calmly talking a gunman into letting his hostages go free while handing over his weapons.

Those who had known Dad were always saying that Martha was so very like him – single-minded, clear-sighted and very determined. They were strengths and attributes she had always been proud of inheriting from her father, but what she didn’t possess, and she was fully aware of this deficiency, was the ability to empathise. Mum had it, and so did Willow. Ellis probably did as well.

Tom had the capacity to be subjective, but mostly he viewed life through the same lens of objectivity as Martha did. He kept his emotions firmly out of the equation. Emotion only coloured one’s perspective, was what they both believed. She had always loved that about him, that he understood the same clear-cut way of dealing with something as she did. It was why they seldom argued. They were both eminently rational. The trouble was she knew that recently she had allowed her emotions to get the better of her. It was, she was forced to accept, a throwback to being a young child when, so the family lore went, she had been a maelstrom of hot-headed emotion if she couldn’t get her way.