Sean clapped his hands together with exaggerated cheerfulness.

‘Aha! At last you express an interest in the good book, my boy. Your Grandma Colleen would be so proud of you. The Last Supper was the meal that Jesus had with his disciples, just before he was betrayed by Judas and the Romans dragged him up the hill to Golgotha where they—’

‘We probably don’t need to go into all the gory details in front of the little ones,’ Jennifer said, nodding towards Odette. ‘Do we, Sean?’

‘What are the gory details?’ Daniel said.

‘They nailed baby Jesus to a tree,’ Odette said solemnly, tearing a piece from a sticky pastry and putting it in her mouth.

‘A cross,’ Russ said. ‘And he wasn’t a baby. He was a grown man, allegedly.’

‘Cool,’ said Ethan, looking up from his phone. ‘How long would it take you to die from that?’

‘Hours,’ Russ said. ‘Days, maybe. Not a nice way to check out.’

‘Was it in public? With, like, an audience?’

Jennifer cleared her throat.

‘I don’t think this is really appropriate lunchtime conversation material, do you guys?’

‘More interesting than the usual boring grown-up crap you talk about,’ Jake muttered.

‘Language, Jake.’

Everyone busied themselves filling their plates. All except Odette, who wrinkled her nose and began pointing out all the things she didn’t like.

‘Don’t like them, or them, or that. Definitely not that. Have we got any normal proper slicey bread?’

Rowan put some baguette and ham onto her daughter’s plate, and began slicing an apple into small wedges.

I looked up to see Sean and Jennifer, on opposite sides of the long wooden table, reach for one of the bottles of wine at the same moment.

Sean’s hand brushed against hers – seeming to linger for a second as their eyes met – but she reacted as if she’d touched a live wire, almost dropping the bottle in her haste. As if they were mirror images of each other, they both smiled and looked embarrassed, gestured to the other to go first.

‘Go on,’ Sean said.

‘No,’ Jennifer said. ‘You go ahead.’

He smiled and filled her glass first, then Russ’s, before his own.

Jennifer shot a furtive glance at me, a half-turn of her head before her eyes dropped back to the table.

Checking to see whether I noticed that?

Yes. I did notice. What was it?

What, precisely, was it?

I willed her to make eye contact again, for a chance to read her expression, find out what was written there.

Does it feel awkward to touch my husband’s hand in front of everyone? Is that it?

She took a sip of wine but wouldn’t meet my eye again.

My mind jumping and sparking with fresh accusations, I looked away in time to see Alistair filling Lucy’s wine glass from the other bottle of St Chinian.