‘No.’ She primped her hair one side then the other. ‘But thank you, Edith. Your hair looks …’ She trailed off, tilted her head one side and then the other. ‘Effortlessly chic.’

‘Well, certainly effortless,’ I joked. ‘I spent so long picking out the dress that I didn’t leave enough time for the hair. A friend of mine is trying to get me into these messy buns—’

‘Your natural wave suits you. Classy.’ She leaned forward to reach for a teacup. ‘You and my Rowan make quite the picture-perfect couple when you’re dolled up like this.’ I noted the ownership – my Rowan; not ours – as though I’d snatched something away from her alone. When she put the cup back in place she smiled, looked at Rowan, raised an eyebrow and then looked back at me. ‘Rowan tells us that you’re on a sort of break?’

‘Penny!’

‘Christ, Mum.’

I turned to face Rowan. ‘A break?’

‘You know what I mean, Edi, we … you know, the deal.’ He stretched his eyes in urgency. ‘I told Mum and Dad we were a bit open-ended at the minute, to give us a break from wedding planning, too, and to let us both, I don’t know, breathe a bit or something.’ He smiled, like he’d rescued the situation – but he’d actually made things a bit bloody worse. Breathe? I parroted. I’m stifling you?

‘Of course.’ I looked back at his parents and tried to relax my expression into something they might believe, then held my left hand up and flashed the ring. ‘Still very much engaged. But we’re both young, as you’ve pointed out yourselves, and there’s no need to rush into a wedding, is there? Not when we can enjoy being engaged for a bit beforehand.’

Penny’s own expression relaxed – as much as it possibly could. ‘Well, now that’s settled. I was worried we’d have to cancel the announcements and all sorts.’ She said it like it would be a real travesty and her worries became a small weight sitting in my lap. ‘Everyone knows and is delighted, of course. But we’ll save that talk for another time, perhaps?’ She looked at Rowan, who nodded. ‘Now, are you two hungry? We’ve only ordered two pots of tea so far. Gregory, why don’t you take Rowan up to choose something for us all? I’m sure Edith trusts him to choose for her as well.’

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer. But I thought – shouted, internally: No. I don’t.

‘Edith, are you okay with Rowan choosing?’ Gregory asked, and I wondered whether this common courtesy had been filtered out in the genetics somewhere on the way to Rowan; his mother’s influence, perhaps.

‘Of course. Penny and I can catch up.’