Though Margaret had seemed a self-contained child, even her parents could not have suspected that beneath her quiet exterior was an intensity of feeling which must eventually find expression. When finally she had opted for her mother’s religion, the family was not surprised. Arnold’s parliamentary obligations had led to his renting a pied-à-terre in Westminster, largely removing him from his children’s lives. From Lyn’s too, and that was still the case. He had never yet failed to be returned to Parliament.

Matthew was now the family atheist, and Marianne had thought that decision an act of cynicism that included paying his parents back for leaving it to him to decide. Nor had she blamed him. Wasn’t it hard enough, sometimes, not to doubt the Faith that was unquestionably your own?

Margaret, though, had moved on from Lyn’s Protestant beliefs to Catholicism. It had begun with her deepening friendship with Marianne’s daughter-in-law. Had Moira felt she needed an ally in the family? Whether or not, there had to be more to it than that. Perhaps the mystique Catholicism offered. Marianne visualized Margaret’s madonna-like face framed in a nun’s wimple, and thought that even Sarah Sandberg’s wisdom could not have come to terms with a great-granddaughter becoming a Bride of Christ.

‘The mistake you made, Lyn,’ she said bluntly, ‘was not making your home in London, when your kids were still young.’

‘Do you really think that would have changed anything?’

‘Well, at least it would have given Matthew the chance to have a real relationship with his dad, like Martin had with Ralph despite their disagreements.’

Lyn gazed for a moment at the tea leaves in her empty cup. ‘At the time, Marianne, not uprooting the kids from their schools seemed right.’

She looked up and put down the cup and saucer. ‘A bigger mistake I made, and my children have paid for it, was I should never have married Arnold. Or he me, come to that. Whenever I have to make a public appearance with him there’s a row before he gets me to do it. When the Queen visited his constituency and I had to play hostess at the luncheon that was part of it – well, I don’t know how I got through it!’

‘But the Queen comes over on TV as being absolutely charming,’ said Marianne.

‘Of course she is,’ said Lyn. ‘It’s me, Marianne. No different now than how I’ve always been.’

Marianne did not agree with the latter. Well, not when it came to looks. But the lovely fair-haired girl Arnold had brought into the family, distinguishing himself by being the first of its members to marry out, was long gone. In her place was a faded English rose. Unlike Marianne, who looked younger than her years, Lyn’s face bespoke the ravages of time. And her figure was evidence that she had turned to food for comfort.