The boys barely looked at us before they tore off again. The blonde teacher went after them with a sing-song ‘no running, boys!’ plea that was totally ignored.

‘Hello, Alexis.’ A mother with her dark hair held back in a tight ponytail came up to us. I recognised her from the school gates; she seemed to know everyone. Or make it her business to know everyone. She tilted her head at Frederick. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’ She looked at me expectantly.

‘Ah yes, Frederick, this is . . .’ I looked down at her lapel. Dammit, her name label was covered by her pink scarf. ‘. . . Raquel.’

She grimaced at me. ‘Rochelle. It’s Rochelle. I know Will, remember? We used to work together?’

Looking at her I did now remember her irritatingly over-familiar fawning over my husband. ‘Oh, you’re married to the wonderful Will. We go way, way back. He is such a poppet. Can’t believe we live so close now. I must give him a ring and organise drinks . . . I mean for all four of us, of course.’

‘Rochelle. Of course. Sorry. Haven’t had enough caffeine this morning.’

She ignored me and gazed at Frederick.

‘Nice to meet you. So great to see dads being hands-on and showing an interest.’

‘Why wouldn’t I? She’s my daughter too.’

Rochelle’s mouth opened and shut a few times before she muttered, ‘Yes. Quite,’ and looking over Frederick’s shoulder waved at someone else and dashed off to them.

The blonde teacher reappeared with the two boys we had been charged with. ‘Here they are!’ she announced and quickly disappeared off. We ushered them along with Florence and Gigi towards the security guards that were at the entrance to the main part of the museum.

Geraint had warned us that security would be tighter than usual due to the high-profile event the next day.

Frederick was motioned straight through while the security guard stopped me to rifle through my tote bag. There were two dolls, several packets of snacks, a Tupperware box of biscuits, a Peppa Pig toy phone and an Etch A Sketch. He handed me back the bag with a grunt.

As we entered the main part of the museum, Yvonne, still tightly clasping the flag above her, addressed us all. ‘Everyone, please make your way to the Marine Invertebrates room. It’s just round the corner. We’ll go at a very slow pace so everyone can keep up.’

She was not kidding. It was a painfully slow pace.

I spoke softly to Frederick. ‘I’ll go ahead and fit the box. You OK with the kids?’

He looked down at our motley crew of two-year-olds shuffling in front of us. Gigi and Florence were holding hands. The tallest boy was picking his nose. The other had his hands down his trousers.