“Marcus wants you to call him at the theater,” Aunt Amy told Sophie. “I’ve told him not to give you a very big part, because I shouldn’t think you could remember all those lines, could you?”

“I’m quite good at remembering lines, actually,” said Sophie, after a moment. “It’s remembering other things I sometimes have trouble with.”

Aunt Amy looked unconvinced.

“Well, you can always carry the script around with you,” she said, at last. “Pretend it’s a book or something.”

Andrew leaned across the table to cousin Susan.

“I’ll tell you a trick,” he said quietly. “Put your finger at the bottom of your throat, just above where the two collarbones meet, yes, right there. Feel that little hollow? Well, go down a little over that hump of bone, press into the slight indentation beneath it, and those hiccups will go away.”

“Oh my God,” said Susan after a moment. “That’s amazing.”

Andrew winked at her. “It’s also good for self-defense,” he said. “Push there, and you can send a strong man flying off his feet.”

“Are you enjoying your stay?” Lulu asked Andrew.

“Having a marvelous time, thanks,” said Andrew. “There’s always so much to see in London. I went to Shepherd’s Bush Market today; do you know it? It’s fantastic, a real slice of the immigrant city, with the railway line running past, stalls selling West Indian fruit and veg that have been run by the same family for generations now. It was completely charming and somehow sixties-ish.” He turned to peer hopefully towards David at the other end of the table. “Almost like walking into a Beatles’ song.”

“Can I ask you a medical question?” said Lulu. “Talking of, um, fruit stalls. You know we had that drama with Sophie last year. Well, that was an allergic reaction to shellfish and she nearly died, and yet another friend of ours is allergic to strawberries and he only gets a slight rash on his skin. Why were Sophie’s symptoms so much worse than Jamie’s? Is it because they’re allergic to different foods?”

“Well, that’s an interesting point,” said Andrew; although semi-retired, he prided himself in keeping up with the latest news in medical research. He laid down his knife and fork, and prepared to explain carefully to Lulu the intricacies of the pathology of anaphylaxis.

“I think,” said David, “we need some more wine at this end of the table.” He rose and went to the kitchen counter, picked up the bottle that Liam had brought, and raised his eyebrows.

“I think you’re going to be a rather useful sort of chap to have around,” he told him. He sat down again, poured a splash into his glass, sipped, then leaned forward to Liam and Caroline.

“I think,” he whispered to them confidentially, “that we’re going to keep this particular bottle a little secret just between the three of us.”

Caroline actually giggled.

“If you want to change places,” Sophie muttered hopefully to Lulu as they cleared the plates from the main course, “you can play footsie with Liam and I can talk to Andrew instead of Aunt Amy.”