Jim threw Sylvia a warning look. ‘Syl loves her job. She’s going to find it tricky to give it up.’

‘I’m not going to give it up. I’ll have a few weeks off and then go back, if Roger agrees. It’s not the fifties, you’re not expected to resign when you get married.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ Jim’s voice was light but she caught the subtext: and you know it.

Pamela pinched her mouth into a thin line. ‘Darling, I know you’re a career girl,’ she said, waggling her head for emphasis, ‘but this is more important. Who will look after the little one if you go back to work? Baby’s going to need you at home now. Everything else must take second place.’

Sylvia stared at the grass. A lone trio of daisies had obviously escaped the gardener’s mower and stood sentinel in the centre of the lawn. ‘It doesn’t have to be like that these days,’ she said, trying not to think how much a nursery or a nanny would cost.

‘Well, I don’t know about that. I know times have changed since my day, but babies still need their mothers.’

‘I think babies need their mothers to be happy.’

‘I’m just saying—’

‘Pam.’ Simon cut her off. ‘This is for Jim and Sylvia to work out. It’s a quarter of a century since our day. It won’t all be the same now. I’m sure the baby will be fine, whatever they decide. They are responsible adults.’

‘Well, I’m sure they are,’ Pamela raised one eyebrow. ‘Oh! Look at those wretched things!’ She got up and walked over to the three daisies, picked them one by one, went to the other end of the garden and threw them on the compost heap.

She got married in purple, much to Pamela’s dismay. Sylvia had loved the dress the moment she saw it in the shop with Maggie on a pre-wedding trip to Oxford Street. Maggie, chief – and only – bridesmaid wore green, and the whole thing brightened up an otherwise grey but humid late April day. Sylvia felt a rush of affection for her new husband that he, though once eager for a full-blown traditional affair, seemed so overwhelmed they were actually getting married that he didn’t seem to care that the dress wasn’t white or that they were one of many couples at the registry office that day, or that his parents felt the need to apologise to hers for their son causing Sylvia’s delicate state.

‘I love you,’ Jim whispered as he bent to kiss her after the ceremony, a broad smile on his face. And for a brief moment, she felt perhaps everything would be okay.