Uh-oh. Paula wasn’t sure she liked the sound of this. Please say that her mum wasn’t about to confess to having indulged in rampant sex all around Madeira. ‘When you say “too much fun”,’ she began delicately, her mind now thoroughly boggled, ‘you’re not saying . . . Mum, you didn’t have a fling yourself, did you?’

There was an awful moment of silence before Jeanie slowly shook her head. ‘No. Not exactly. But I wanted to,’ she admitted, her voice low. ‘And I might have done, if . . .’ She looked agonized. ‘If the man in question hadn’t been too much of a gentleman.’

‘Oh, Mum,’ said Paula, half-appalled, half-enthralled. ‘But you didn’t, so—’

‘I drank too much, I acted like a silly schoolgirl, I had this ridiculous makeover, which doesn’t even suit me,’ Jeanie said despondently, flicking her fingers at the ends of her hair.

‘So what? You were on holiday! Give yourself a break,’ Paula cried. ‘And your hair will grow back anyway, if you’re not keen.’ It was on the tip of her tongue to lean forward conspiratorially, as she would have done with a friend, and ask if the gentleman in question had been hot, until she remembered her dad’s mournful face of recent weeks. ‘I take it Dad doesn’t know about this,’ she said instead.

Jeanie turned pale beneath her tan. ‘Goodness, no, and I’m not planning to tell him either. This is strictly between you and me. I just wanted to get it off my chest – to confess my wickedness. I hope you don’t mind. Honestly, nothing happened, except for me making a fool of myself. Being a silly old woman.’

‘You’re not a silly old woman,’ Paula said. ‘Look, we’ve all done daft things we regret. It’s just part of being human.’ Now she felt sorry for her mum, whose lip was wobbling. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, patting her hand. ‘Honestly, Mum. And you know I can keep a secret.’

‘Thank you, darling. Anyway, this is why I can’t be too angry with your dad any more,’ Jeanie said with a sigh. ‘Because I know what it is to be tempted. And it’s easier than you think.’ She pulled a guilty face and nibbled a small piece of teacake, the very image of the contrite wife. It didn’t last long, though. Because then her eyes glittered and the contrition was gone again. ‘It was really fun, though, flirting with a handsome man who wasn’t your father,’ she confided, leaning forward. ‘Just a little bit anyway.’

‘Mum!’

‘I did feel naughty. Because I’d never done it before! And it made me feel very womanly. Very minxy. My goodness, I was a different person, I can tell you.’

‘Mum!’ Paula cried again, almost choking on her scone. ‘Please! I’m not sure I want to hear this.’ Minxy indeed. What had got into her?