‘Hi, you two,’ said Lorrie. They gazed at her and she looked at their tense faces, the tear stain on Emma’s cheek. ‘Maybe you can be ever so helpful and take Katherine down the garden to see what the men are doing. A hand each,’ she added.

The three children set off, Katherine bobbing and weaving in the middle.

‘Thanks.’

‘It must be odd for you, being with children when your own are away.’

‘It is a bit.’

The girls had reached the men. They watched as Luke waved them over and bent down to talk to them.

‘Right, I’m going to make coffee and breakfast.’

‘I’ll help. She’s OK for a bit. Neil will keep an eye on them.’

In the presence of his father, Jem became self-conscious and awkward; with his flushed cheeks and sudden jocose irony he was like an ungainly adolescent all over again. Irene watched him anxiously. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the three children poking with sticks at something at the far end of the garden. Luke was sitting on the bench near them, sipping his coffee.

‘What do you want for your wedding present?’ asked Duncan. ‘We couldn’t decide, could we Toni, so we thought we should let you choose. Name it?’ He shoved half a croissant into his mouth, posted a fig after it, and chewed noisily. A pip slid down his chin. ‘A holiday. An object. Something for your beautiful wife.’ He chuckled at Juliet, who smiled tightly.

‘Remember …’ began Toni nervously.

‘Nobody asked you. I’m talking to my son here. My boy.’ He sighed gustily.

‘This is enough of a present, Duncan,’ said Jem. ‘You coming over. I never expected …’

‘Of course I came over. Would I have missed your wedding day?’

‘Well, of course it depended on your work trip fitting in with it,’ said Toni. ‘We could never have afforded …’

‘What’s money compared to family?’

‘Have some more coffee,’ said Mickey. ‘Shall I fetch more croissants from the kitchen?’

Luke arrived at the table and sat beside Irene. He took a fig and turned it over in his hands, then cut it in half.

‘What did I give you for a wedding present, honey?’ Duncan turned to Irene.

‘Um …’

He hadn’t. He hadn’t come over. He’d promised to but at the last minute he’d called to say there were unexpected problems; hitches; what a shame; his little motherless girl marrying and he wouldn’t be able to give her away.

‘Just hope that wastrel husband of yours didn’t take it with him when he left, whatever it was.’

Irene’s cheeks burned. He turned back to Jem.

‘When’s your mother arriving?’

‘She’s here already. She’s – well, she’s coming to lunch actually.’

‘Lunch? You’re having a lunch here before the wedding?’

‘Yes. We thought – that is, if you think it would be a good idea, then …’