I look across at him. Physically he is so like you, Miles. But he is so much younger. And I feel so comfortable with him. There is no need to flirt or act up. When I am with Simon I am just me. We like all the same things. Plants. Walking. Paddle boarding. Rafting. Bungee jumping. We have just been living together in his apartment from the minute we met. We met on the plane on the way home. I finally earnt the money to fly back. He was returning from a business trip to London. Two Kiwis on the way home.

‘Come on, explain why you’ve been keeping her a secret,’ The Prune repeats.

‘Well, Mum, you know after everything that happened, losing Veronica as I did, we just wanted to go carefully in private.’

Veronica. Losing Veronica. Simon has been so bereft. Imagine if I had been responsible for you losing Saffron, Miles. I would never have forgiven myself.

The Prune elongates her back and raises her chest. ‘But I am your mother – I should always be in the loop.’

Simon reaches under the table for my hand, and squeezes it. He warned me she would be like this. He told me she had a difficult relationship with his father, and so always dwelt on him too much, in a way that was difficult to handle.

The waitress sidles over. ‘What can I get you?’ she asks.

‘Simon and I will have our usual,’ The Prune, aka Janet Wilkinson, barks.

The waitress turns to me. ‘What would you like?’

‘She can have a sirloin. Our usual is just for two,’ Janet continues. ‘Medium rare, please.’

‘Please can I have medium. I’m not good with blood,’ I interrupt. ‘And no chips, just a side salad.’

Janet stares across at me. ‘Sirloin’s best medium rare. That is how it should be served.’

Oh my God, she’s even more of a ball-breaker than I thought.

‘Mother, let her have her steak how she wants it,’ Simon says. He turns to the waitress, ‘We will have the steak medium please, as requested with a side salad and no chips.’

The waitress looks at me sympathetically, gives me half a smile and scribbles down my order. She turns to go.

‘What about asking us if we want a drink?’ Janet says, voice raised.

The waitress turns around. She looks so young. About sixteen. A few tiny blisters of spots pepper her cheeks, carefully covered up with make-up.

‘Sorry. I thought the drinks waiter had already asked you. What can I get you?’

‘Sparkling mineral water with ice and lemon, pronto,’ she demands.

‘A glass of Merlot please,’ I chirrup.

‘This family doesn’t drink at lunchtime,’ she says, eyeballing me.

‘If Hayley wants a glass of wine she can have one,’ Simon says. He turns to the waitress. ‘Two large glasses of Merlot.’ He shakes his head and frowns. ‘No actually, make that a bottle and two glasses, please.’