Saturday morning. I’m in the kitchen giving a cookery demonstration to my three favourite men. Making kiwi pie, a New Zealand favourite. Ben, Harry and Miles are sitting in a row at the breakfast bar, watching me. If it comes out well, the boys want to take a photograph and send it to the Blue Peter cooking club. Blue Peter, that British phenomenon. The longest running children’s TV programme in the world. I intend to take a photograph and write a section in my diary. Teaching Pommies to make kiwi pie. Hopefully Mum will find it amusing.

‘We need to start with the biscuit base,’ I announce. ‘We use Graham crackers back home, but we can’t get them over here. So we’ll have to make do with digestives.’

I measure out the ingredients for the base. Macadamia nuts, sugar and biscuits. I zap them together in the food processor.

‘Watch me now. I’m going to melt the butter, which will bind the base together. Who would like to help?’

Ben, Harry and Miles all put their hands in the air.

‘Harry, I pick you to help first.’

He beams and slips off his chair to join me. I hold him up to the gas ring so that he can stir the butter as we melt it gently. He mixes it into the biscuit base with a wooden spoon.

‘Your turn now, Ben – you can help me line the pie dish with the biscuit base.’

My helpers change places. Ben and I together prepare the first part of the pie. I put it into the oven and set the timer on my watch for five minutes.

‘Now for the tricky bit. The fruity filling. Shall we let Daddy do that? I expect Daddy is good with fruity fillings.’

Ben and Harry nod their heads. Miles comes and stands next to me. So close I can taste his aftershave of musk and sandalwood. So close that yet again my breath quickens. He follows the recipe and combines condensed milk with egg yolks and lime juice and zest. I take the pie dish out of the oven and he pours the filling in. His leg presses against mine, behind the kitchen counter. His touch pulses against me like electricity. Does he know what he is doing to me?

Miles puts the pie back in the oven.

‘It’ll need fifteen minutes in the oven to bake. Do you boys want to go and play in the garden for a bit, while Daddy and I clear up? I’ll call you in when I need you to help.’

‘Yes please, Hayley.’

I open the back door and they dash past me to gallivant in the early spring sunshine. Arguing as they go about whether to play catch or football.

As soon as we are alone Miles smiles at me. ‘I didn’t know you liked cooking.’