I moved in two weeks ago and the Jacksons have already invited me to join them for their family Sunday lunch. Apparently Aiden, Miles’ younger brother, joins them at Wellbeck House every Sunday.

We’re sitting around their ornate glass and marble table, tucking into lamb tagine made by Caprice, who is sitting at the head of the table, resplendent in co-ordinated shades of cream. Her white-blonde hair shimmers to golden, in the sunlight streaming in from the window behind.

Actually, only some of us are eating tagine. Ben and Harry are guzzling chicken nuggets and chips, smothered in ketchup. Saffron has a vegan dish.

‘Aren’t you going to try the tagine, or my curry?’ she asks her sons.

‘No, Mummy. I’m fine, thanks,’ Ben says.

‘What about you, Harry. Would you like a spoonful of what I’m eating?’

He shakes his head vehemently. ‘Granny said we could have this for a treat.’

Caprice winces as he says the word Granny. Saffron purses her lips.

‘The tagine is delicious, Mother,’ Miles says.

Caprice beams across at him, almost purring.

‘It is. Thank you,’ I add, to be polite, but in truth I find it heavy and unsubtle; laden with too much cinnamon.

I look across at Saffron, pushing her vegan curry around her plate with a fork. So slim, so fragile, as if she hardly ever eats anything. Her skeletal figure emphasises the sharpness of her cheekbones and her enormous eyes. Aiden can hardly keep his eyes off her. Why do men seem to admire physical fragility in a woman? Does it make them feel protective?

‘How’s business, Saffron?’ he asks between mouthfuls.

‘Good,’ she replies with a curt smile. And somehow I sense she doesn’t mean it. ‘And yours?’

‘Profits are up. My main problem is how to enjoy spending them. What do you reckon? New car? Boat? Long, self-indulgent holiday?’

Saffron’s eyes light up with envy. Everyone’s eyes are glued to Aiden. Except yours, Miles. Your eyes catch mine and my heart skips a beat. Dark topaz eyes. Kind and caring. The children put their knives and forks together.

‘Please can we leave the table?’ they ask, wide-eyed and in unison.

‘Of course,’ Caprice replies.

They sidle away. No one asks them where they are going. I guess they’ve gone to watch cartoons, or play on the Xbox. I think about following them, but don’t. They’re not my responsibility today.

Saffron’s mobile rings. She pulls it from her pocket, looks at it and springs up from the table.

‘Got to take this.’ She returns a few minutes later and stands by Miles. ‘I’m sorry, I have to fly to Athens to see Aristos. It’s urgent,’ she says.

‘When?’ you ask.

‘Tonight.’

Your face falls. ‘How long will you be away?’

She shrugs her shoulders. ‘As long as it takes, but I guess for a few days.’

‘Where will you stay?’