She heard muffling and then his face came into view. ‘Oh! I see!’ he tittered. ‘I thought it was a phone call!’

‘How are you?’ said Penny. ‘I miss you!’

‘I miss you too, sunshine. I’m okay. Bit of heartburn today though.’

‘Have you had a glass of milk?’ Penny said.

‘Good idea,’ he replied. ‘See, this is why I need you. You know which way is up.’

Penny smiled at him.

‘I’ve met somebody,’ she said.

Uncle David raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh?’

‘Another chef. Francesco. It’s been a few weeks.’

Penny could see her uncle’s face light up at the mention of another chef. It was written all over his expression.

‘Stop it,’ said Penny, in playful warning. ‘He’s very much a London-based chef, Davvy.’

‘I didn’t say anything!’ he said. ‘What!’

Penny rolled her eyes. She was bored of this subtle pressure he frequently put on her. Before the cancer, her career trajectory naturally pointed to her one day becoming the next chef de patron of The Red Panda. But then, when her ambition changed and she set up a smaller, much more manageable place, Uncle David’s retirement plan suddenly looked different. He was still sure he could change her mind, though – even last time she’d visited Uncle David and Eric, he’d said over dessert: ‘But people should know who you are, Penny! That small café, twenty-five covers – you’re so much better than that! You could really be somebody with your own restaurant – you could be somebody here. Bigger really is better!’

Penny had reminded him that her small café with twenty-five covers turned over almost a quarter of a million and employed six different people. ‘I wish you could keep your eyes on your own mat,’ she’d said. Uncle David had shaken his head, not understanding. ‘It’s a yoga thing. You can’t do crow, or tree – or anything really – if you’re too busy looking at what everyone else can do. Yoga only works if you focus on your breathing, and your own mat.’

‘How did I raise such a hippie?’

‘You know, the most common misconception about Frankenstein is that it’s the name of the monster. The monster actually belongs to Frankenstein – it’s actually “Frankenstein’s Monster”.’

‘I’m Doctor Frankenstein in this analogy, I presume?’

Penny had smirked.

Across FaceTime, Uncle David sighed.

‘I love you so, so much, you know,’ he said. ‘I’d take a bullet for you. I just want you to be happy. I know I tease about you coming up here, but it’s only because I think you really would thrive …’

‘I am happy here!’ Penny yelled. Why did it always have to descend into a campaign to have her run his pub? It was exhausting.

‘How’s Eric?’ she said, changing tack.