“Please get off my property,” says Corey, wheeling round. “I’m calling my security team. This is a private birthday party.”

“My name is Rebecca!” I shout after him. “Does that mean anything to you?”

“Oh!” exclaims Cyndi. “Like your oldest, hon!”

Corey turns back and I can see him staring at me, the weirdest look on his face. No one else speaks. In fact, I think everyone’s holding their breath. He has a daughter called Rebecca too. What is going on?

Then he wheels round again and strides back toward the party.

“Well, great to meet you guys!” says Cyndi uncertainly. “Pick up a party bag for your little one as you leave.”

“Oh, we couldn’t do that!” I say at once. “They’re for your guests.”

“But we have way too many. Please, go ahead.” She hurries after Corey, stumbling a little on her heels. I can hear her saying in puzzled tones, “Babe, what’s up?”

A few moments later, the guy in the linen suit rounds the corner of the house, accompanied by two guys who are not in linen suits. They’re in jeans, and they have crew cuts and those expressionless faces which say Only doing my job as they beat you to a pulp.

You know. I’m assuming.

“Um, let’s go,” I say nervously.

“Goodness,” gulps Janice. “Those men look rather threatening.”

“Big bullies!” says Mum indignantly, and I have a sudden dreadful image of her squaring up to them with her Oxshott Senior Ladies’ Self-Defense Group moves.

“Mum, we need to go,” I say, before she can get any bright ideas.

“I think we should leave,” agrees Alicia. “We’ve learned all we can for now.”

“Thanks!” I call to the crew-cut guys. “We’re on our way out. Super party, we’re just getting our party bag….”

As I steer Minnie to a table covered in massive loot bags, Cyndi reappears, holding a cocktail. She sees us approaching the table and hurries over.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Cyndi says breathlessly. “My husband can be a grouch with people he doesn’t know. I say to him, ‘Honey! Lighten up!’ ” She picks up a bag tied with purple ribbons and peeks inside. “Oh, now, this one has a ballerina doll in it.” She holds it out to Minnie. “You like ballerinas, honey?”

“Party bag!” yells Minnie ecstatically. “Thank-you-for-da-lovely-party,” she adds with care. “Thank-you-for-da-lovely-parteee.”

“You’re a darling.” Cyndi beams at her. “That accent!”

“It’s an amazing party,” I say politely.

“I have a very generous husband,” says Cyndi earnestly. “We’re very lucky. But you know, we appreciate it. We don’t take it for granted.” She nods at the table. “Every one of these loot bags has a counterpart going to an underprivileged kid.”

“Wow.” I blink at her. “That’s a great idea.”

“It’s the way I like to do things. I wasn’t born to this.” She sweeps an arm around, gesturing at the castle. “We can always remember those less fortunate than ourselves. And that’s what I want to teach Peyton.”