I looked round the large open-plan space. Everything was immaculate. The only nod to the hectic family life was a large noticeboard brimming with reminders from the nursery and an abundance of Florence’s artistic masterpieces.

Camilla noticed me staring at their noticeboard. ‘Frederick insists we keep everything. He’s surprisingly sentimental.’

‘Is he very hands-on?’ asked Kate as she and Dionne joined us from the garden.

‘Oh yes. He’s the one that gets Florence up in the morning. Well, more likely she gets him up. She has never slept well. Sometimes they’re already in the playground by seven a.m.’

‘Don’t think my husband has ever got up with any of ours,’ said Kate, shaking her head.

‘Frederick’s an early riser anyway. Doesn’t seem to mind. He takes a coffee, catches up on emails, has some fresh air before being stuck in an office.’

It was strange to think of how other couples did things. Like in any partnership you slipped naturally into what became your responsibilities and what became theirs. I was always the one on early shift. I’d never really thought about it but it would be nice if Will occasionally stepped up and did it instead.

Why was I comparing them?

‘Frederick has even been picking her up from nursery every day this week.’ Good to know our latest mission was getting him credit with Camilla. ‘I guess he just likes doing his bit. It’s just the way he is. He likes to get involved in everything. He even helps me with the gallery, accounts, invoices.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘The stuff I’m no good at.’

From what I knew of them it seemed more like he had to help her with everything as she couldn’t cope. I watched her yet again getting distracted and looking off into the distance. She was a fragile flower. She needed looking after so he took charge. She played the little woman so he could be the big man. Every relationship needed a certain dynamic to work and maybe that was theirs.

I wondered why I felt I had a more accurate insight into Frederick and Camilla’s relationship than I did the others’, whose conversations and online correspondence I had been monitoring for the past few days.

I looked at Kate. Hers and George Pig’s relationship seemed mostly about surviving the chaos of their children. Kate took hours getting the boys to bed and they seemed to visit them intermittently throughout the night. I didn’t know how Kate managed to hold it together so well. I was sure we would come across a prescription for amphetamines or Prozac at some point, but so far nothing. She seemed to run solely on caffeine and high-energy protein shakes. Solid food didn’t seem to be a feature in her life. She was staring with a slightly terrifying intensity at the untouched Victoria sponge on the table.