A conclusion that led Leona to wonder if deep inside themselves they truly enjoyed an artificial Indian summer in the autumn of their lives. If most wouldn’t prefer carpet slippers and TV if they had someone with whom to share their lives. As for the dearth of men – well, only one conclusion could be drawn.

Leona didn’t know if Mr Pitkin’s wife had lived to retire here with him. But his outliving her made him a rare specimen in this setting. What the women in Auntie Ray’s circle were enjoying, if they were, were the fruits of their dead husbands’ lifelong labours. And some had seemed to Leona the sort whose acquisitiveness had spurred on their men to a too-early grave.

In retrospect, that probably included Auntie Ray, whose husband was a lovely man. The kind who did card tricks for kids and gave them sweets when their parents weren’t looking.

Leona could remember too her aunt having three fur coats. And Uncle Murray arriving home from work dead beat, when Leona and her mother were staying with them. Also her being awed by their vast drawing room and the grand piano that nobody ever played.

Leona’s annual trips to London with her mum had been the highlights of the year. Not just because she was taken by Uncle Murray to see the sights. Those were the only times her mother had seemed relaxed and happy.

Not until she grew older had Leona realized that her mother had never stopped being homesick. Marriage had transplanted Rebecca when she was still a young girl from London to Manchester. Away from her own family and into the midst of a down-to-earth provincial clan, among whom she must have felt swamped, to put it mildly.

But if Dad had loved her, that wouldn’t have mattered, Leona thought now. Mum would eventually have found her niche. Why had Leona always had the feeling that her mother had once loved her father, but had stopped loving him when she realized he didn’t love her?

Could love be switched off? Well, not in Leona’s case, or she wouldn’t still be in love with the wrong twin.

She blotted out Henry Moritz’s too-charming smile and replaced it with Frank’s bespectacled countenance. Was she to be cursed with so wayward a heart to the end of her days?

She emerged from her thoughts and saw her aunt approaching, clickety-clack on the high heels she always wore. When I’m her age, I’ll settle for sensible shoes, Leona thought, noting the puffiness of Ray’s ankles.

Ray sat down on the sunbed Rebecca had vacated, lowering herself gingerly and careful not to crease her skirt.

‘You missed a lovely party, Leona. And so did your mother on your account, which I perfectly understand, dear. Rebecca wants to make the most of your stay. That nice Mr Pitkin was there and sent his regards to you both.’