They resist the precious culinary offerings and instead carve themselves hunks of bread which they slather in butter that is overly soft and top with cheese that has begun to sweat in the heat. They eat standing, one leaning against the dresser, the other against the draining board, crumbs dropping to the floor, too afraid to sit at the table lest they disturb something and incur the women’s wrath.

‘You’ve been busy,’ Jim says when Gwen finally appears in the doorway.

Jack swallows his last mouthful of food and draws himself up. She is wearing a dress he hasn’t seen before, a pretty tea dress that suits her well. She sets a broad-brimmed straw hat and a pair of lace gloves upon the dresser top and smiles.

‘Not bad, eh?’

‘You’ve gone to town,’ Jim says, studying her, and for a moment it seems Gwen is unsure whether her father is referring to the baking or to her appearance. An attractive blush spreads across her cheeks.

‘Oh well …’ she shrugs lightly, then instructs them to hurry up and get ready.

‘Don’t fret, it shan’t take Jack and I long to titivate ourselves.’ Jim winks at Jack as he dabs the crumbs from his mouth.

‘Perhaps not, but it will take a good while to get this lot in the car,’ Gwen says, brooking no nonsense as she ushers them both from the kitchen.

At a little before half past one, the men – washed and spruced – help Gwen ferry the cakes and jam into the car, until the vehicle is so tightly packed they barely have room for themselves. Gwen squeezes into the back, shuffling forward on the bench seat to smooth down Jim’s hair which is sticking up at the back, making him look in her estimation ‘like a country bumpkin’. Jack stares through the windscreen, sour with disapproval. He knows all too well the real reason for Gwen’s extra efforts and her concern over her father’s appearance. Jim swats away her hand, cursing her fussing as he starts the engine. They turn into the lane and head in the direction of the Hall.

On arrival they see the huge marquees that have been erected on the front lawns. Groundsmen in ill-fitting black suits and bowler hats direct them through an open gate onto the meadow, where a handful of cars have been parked in a neat row and a few motorcycles loll on their stands.

Jim parks up and Jack gets out to open Gwen’s door. She looks nauseous, but soon rallies as Jim, ill-at-ease in these surroundings, barks at her to hurry.