“She was right,” Bea said.

“About what?” Cilla asked, coming back in from the kitchen with the baby tucked into the crook of her arm, a bottle in his mouth, looking like an absolute pro. “Oh, please,” she said, in response to my impressed face. “I nannied for ages. I could feed this baby blind drunk. Not that I would do that.”

“It looks good on you,” Freddie offered. “You should get one of your own.”

“No, thanks!” Cilla said, cruising the room as Danny slurped, rubbing his cheek with her ring finger to keep him sucking.

“Really? I’m keen to have a baby,” Gemma said, ruffling the edges of Bea’s bob with her fingers. “They’re so squidgy and sweet. Beatrix and I have a whole binder of sperm donors.”

“You do?” I asked. “Wait, of course you do. Bea has a binder for everything. I just didn’t think…”

“I don’t know why not,” Bea said. “I’m very maternal.”

Nick’s chortle turned into a cough, and he said, “But you’ve just told us you’re not that interested in babies.”

“In general, yes. They’re very bland,” Bea said. “But I would be quite interested in my baby, because my baby would be top-notch.”

“Baked goods are my children now,” Gaz said. “Well, and my legal practice, but that’s substantially less delicious.”

“I spent enough time with my sister’s kids to know that I rather enjoy getting to give them back at the end of the day,” Cilla said. “Besides, children deserve to have adults around them who spoil them irresponsibly and will bail them out of jail and take them for expensive drinks before they’re legal. Gaz and I will have our work cut out for us as their groovy aunt and uncle.”

“Children are also very loud,” Gaz said.

“You’re very loud,” Nick pointed out.

“Yes, exactly,” Gaz said, sidling up to Cilla and tickling Danny’s foot.

“Mine won’t be loud,” Bea said. “Mine will know.”

“We could use Gaz as a donor,” Gemma said thoughtfully. “He’s trustworthy, Oxford educated, funny…”

“Devastatingly handsome,” he added, flexing comedically like a very small, portly Chris Hemsworth.

“Between us, we could make a glorious ginger,” Gemma finished. “Garamond II. Or perhaps Arial if it’s a girl.”

“We are not having another font in this family,” Bea said. “One Garamond is more than enough.”