‘Well, I cannot believe what your brother’s been up to,’ Jeanie said, the moment they’d ordered, cosily ensconced at a table for two, amidst the wood panelling and softly glowing wall-lamps. They were seated next to a boisterous family with three young children, who had just been to the Viking museum and were insistent on wearing their helmets at the table. ‘John, I mean – obviously. The shame of it! The brass neck of him! Phoning me from Edinburgh last night, telling me he’s in love with this . . . this girl! “For goodness’ sake,” I told him, “will you get over yourself and stop being such a complete and utter nitwit?”’

‘Is that what you said?’ Paula asked, trying not to snigger at the thought of John having to contend with one of Jeanie’s legendary dressing-downs over the phone. Even when you were in your forties, there was something kind of satisfying about your parents slagging off one of your siblings so reproachfully, especially when this particular brother had always been the self-professed Golden Boy. She was reminded of her own sons, who always loved it when the other one got in trouble. ‘Am I being good, Mum?’ the smug cry would go up. It was on the tip of her tongue to say the same words now, but she managed to restrain herself.

‘Yes, I jolly well did say that to him. Worse, actually, because I’d had a sherry and I was a bit emotional. What does he think he’s playing at, though? A dirty old man, that’s what he is, going off with a young girl like that. It’s disgusting!’ Her lips trembled suddenly. ‘And how dare he jeopardize things with my grandchildren? I mean, he’s my son, my eldest child, and of course I love the absolute bones of him, but for him to do this . . . to behave in such a way . . . This is not how your father and I brought him up. “I’m ashamed of you,” I told him. “You’re not the son I thought you were.” ’

Jeanie was looking quite distressed and Paula felt bad for having smirked moments earlier. ‘It’s grim,’ she agreed. ‘It’s not just the fact of her being so young, it’s that John could treat Robyn and the kids so shabbily. What’s he playing at?’

‘I know. Poor Robyn!’ cried Jeanie. ‘I don’t know what to do, whether to go round there or not. Robyn might not want anything more to do with our family.’

‘I think she does,’ Paula replied. ‘I think she’d appreciate it, if you popped round. In fact she was worried that we would all cut her off, or something – you know, drop her, just like John did.’