He unhitched the rope and pushed the boat away towards the front of the hut. It was only then that I noticed the double doors. He slipped two bolts, hooked back the doors and eased the boat out into the open water. There was not a breath of wind; even the finest fronds of the willows were motionless and the lake lay totally still, reflecting the trees in a perfect mirror-image. Only the ripples spreading out from the gentle movement of our boat disturbed the picture.

The first and last time I’d been boating was in a small paddleboat on the Serpentine, with Mum and Jimmy, the summer before she became too unwell for such expeditions. Memories flooded back: the colourful boats, the excited calls of children across the water, the lake glistening like diamonds in the sunshine, the towers of tall buildings shining beyond the trees of Hyde Park. Remembering it made me feel sad and glad, all at once.

‘You okay, Molly?’

‘Yes, I’m just happy, that’s all,’ I said. ‘It’s so beautiful here.’

‘Being out on the lake always makes me happy, too.’ Kit pulled out the oars and fitted them into the rowlocks, and with a few swift movements we began to glide out towards the middle of the lake.

My brother was sitting perfectly still by my side, his little fingers gripping the edge of the seat.

‘How’re you doing, Jim-lad?’ Kit asked.

‘It’s fun, eh?’ I nudged Jimmy gently. ‘We’re going out on the water like we did in Hyde Park. With Mum.’ There was no chance that he’d recall it; he must have been only five at the time. But I wanted him to remember our mother and the happy times we’d had with her.

‘Why didn’t your mum come to tea yesterday?’ Kit asked.

It was always a difficult one, this, but I usually found it best to answer directly. ‘She died a couple of years ago,’ I said. ‘From cancer.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry. How horrible.’ He frowned, concentrating on his rowing for a few moments. ‘You must miss her loads.’

‘We do. Every day.’

‘We all need cheering up, then. I’m going to show you my favourite places.’

There were four islands in the lake. None of them was much to get excited about, just irregularly shaped mounds of land no more than twenty or thirty feet long, covered in grass and shrubby willows, with no distinguishing features. But each island had a name and a little piece of history, and as we passed each one, Kit told us how generations of his mother’s family had enjoyed themselves there.