Just as Anna had sat back down again, the doorbell rang.

‘Get that, would you, please?’ Teresa said as she headed up the stairs. ‘It might be another flower delivery.’

But when Anna opened the door, instead of finding a bouquet, she came face to face with her mother-in-law. ‘Oh! It’s you,’ Gayle said, echoing perfectly what Anna was thinking. ‘Where’s Teresa? Where’s the baby?’

And hello to you too, Anna thought, as Gayle hurried past her, but she held her tongue, reminding herself of what Teresa had just said. Maybe, if she squinted and tipped her head in the right way, she would be able to see that little speck of Spencer in Gayle. It might prevent Anna from throttling her.

Richard trailed in behind, as always, laden with bags. He gave Anna a one-armed hug, careful not to bash her with what was obviously a prize haul from John Lewis’s baby department. ‘I think what you meant to say, my darling,’ he called after his wife, ‘is, “Anna! What a marvellous surprise!”’

‘Oh, yes. Of course,’ Gayle said absent-mindedly as she made her way into the living room. Richard and Anna followed.

‘I dropped in for a visit,’ Anna explained. ‘Teresa’s just gone to change his nappy.’

As if on cue, her sister-in-law came back down the stairs. ‘All nice and fresh for Grandma,’ she said, and handed the baby over to Gayle, who had spun around and stretched out her arms as soon as she’d heard Teresa’s voice.

Gayle’s face lit up as she cradled her grandson in the crook of her arm. ‘He’s grown so much!’ she said, turning to exclaim to Richard.

‘We only saw him yesterday. How could earth can you tell if he’s grown at all?’

But his wife had already focused her attention back to the baby in her arms. She walked into the living room and sat down in the corner of the sofa. ‘He looks so much like Spencer,’ she said, almost whispering.

Richard gave one of his weary, well-worn huffs that seemed to be his main method of dealing with his wife when she was being a little exasperating. ‘That’s because he is Spencer.’

‘No,’ Gayle said, tickling the baby under his chin so he opened his mouth and his eyes wide, ‘I meant my Spencer.’

Richard shot a look at Anna. ‘Don’t you mean “our Spencer”?’

Then Gayle did the most bizarre thing. She took her eyes off the baby for a few seconds and giggled. Actually giggled. ‘Oh, silly me. Of course I meant our Spencer.’ She smiled at her husband, not minding his dig at all, and then things went even further into strange territory, because she turned that smile on Anna, clearly including her in the joke. ‘But he does look like him, don’t you think?’

There was such hope in her eyes that Anna dutifully walked across the room and inspected her nephew yet again. She supposed he looked as much like Spencer as any baby could. He had the blond hair (albeit the merest hint of peach fuzz), the blue eyes, and he certainly knew how to make himself heard and command the attention in any room he was in. ‘I suppose he does.’