‘I’m sure they are fine.’ She had patted Esther’s shoulder, as if she was the one in need of greater reassurance. ‘Brian is the most sensible and resourceful man I have ever met. That’s why I married him.’ She had smiled, reached for a tea towel, and begun drying the plates Esther had left in the drainer. Twenty minutes later the unmistakeable thrum of a car engine had sounded from the end of the dusty lane leading to the villa. The three kayakers had exploded out of the vehicle, hair clinging round their faces, eyes shining, talking all at once about the derring-do of exploring a wild part of the river where there had been no signal and how the return to the car had coincided with the discovery that Brian’s phone battery had died – perfect proof, the children had protested, that they should be allowed to take their own phones next time. Esther had stood a little apart from the reunion, enjoying the rush of family joy while recognising she could not share a place at the heart of it. Life did not have to be a series of lurching disasters, was her foremost thought, and one she vowed to hang onto. Far more things went right than wrong. You just didn’t notice them so much.

Brian trotted off for a conference with the barbecue chefs before returning to top up her and Viv’s glasses of white wine. ‘Dinner will be ten minutes, mesdames, my team assure me.’

‘I think your team are wonderful, and I don’t care how long dinner takes,’ Esther said dreamily, floating a little from drinking on an empty stomach, and from the wonderful, almost forgotten sensation of being looked after.

‘Which is why you are the most perfect house guest.’ Brian chuckled, doing something resembling a salsa jig to the music now blaring out of a portable speaker.

An hour later, Amber and Finn were grinning with satisfaction at the praise of their culinary efforts, while their younger siblings leapt to the task of clearing empty plates in order to fetch the dessert – fresh blueberries, flapjacks, and scoops of vanilla ice cream – all demolished in minutes despite everyone saying they had no room. There was talk of a game – cards or charades – during which Finn was despatched to the kitchen to fill the water jug. ‘There’s a phone going mad in here,’ he called, waving through the kitchen window.

‘Whose phone?’ Viv shouted back.

‘Esther’s,’ Finn replied, putting his head round the terrace door. ‘Can I open more wine, Dad?’

‘More wine, indeed,’ Brian cried, ignoring a look from his wife. ‘Open away. The stuff with the blue label, not the black.’