‘Of course. Good money, too. I always pay my staff more than fairly. I’ve a name for being a generous employer up in London. And Edie will be helping too. Well, she should be. But no doubt she’ll emerge as everybody arrives and do the bare minimum and demand twenty pounds. To be honest, I gave up on her helping a long time ago.’ Eleanor rested a hand on my arm and squeezed. ‘That’s why I hire people I can rely on.’ She reached for her glass of wine and drank half of what was in it then refilled it with the rest of the bottle, which she left on the side. ‘Edith told me things haven’t been easy for your family financially since after your father died. I’m just glad we can put a little your way.’ Eleanor smiled but not kindly.

She gestured vaguely in the direction of the shopping bags. ‘So if you get on with the unpacking first, then cook the eggs. You’ll need to drop them into a bowl of cold water to avoid that hideous black ring on the yolk, and when they’re cool you need to take the shells off them. But you need to be terribly careful you get the shell off without damaging the white. They’re wildly expensive.’

I eyed the tiny eggs warily and nodded.

‘When you’ve done the eggs, you need to spread the bread – the sliced brown – with a thin layer of butter and pop a slice of smoked salmon on top. Then cut the crusts off and cut them into four. Triangles not squares. Put them on a large plate and then cut some lemons into quarters and put a couple of sprigs of parsley over them. Then peel the carrots and cut them into batons.’ She paused and stared at me. ‘You know what a baton is, don’t you?’ She didn’t give me time to answer, before adding, ‘Long fingers. Whatever you do, don’t cut them into those awful common rounds. It’s done à la France nowadays. Nobody eats round carrots anymore.’

Eleanor walked over to the fridge. She reached in and took out a bowl covered in foil. ‘I made a Roquefort dip earlier today. You need to put that in the centre of a big platter and arrange the batons around it.’

‘And Edie will—’

‘My daughter will appear when she appears.’ Eleanor gave an indulgent laugh. ‘She’s such a pain.’

Eleanor left me and I started to unpack the bags whilst biting back tears that came and went. When I’d done that I put the water on to boil and started to butter the bread. Eleanor was right, the eggs were fiddly and it was impossible to get the shells off without tearing the white beneath.

‘Hey,’ came Edie’s voice behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder to see her leaning on the doorframe.