Monday morning; 6 a.m. I’m eating boiled eggs and grapefruit in the kitchen, when you pop in for a cup of coffee and a smoothie. You wince in your usual manner as I crack the shell of my first egg. You condescending bitch. How do you expect me to eat it? At 6.15 a.m., you leave. I sigh with relief, crack my second boiled egg, and sit listening to Today on Radio 4.

At 8 a.m., the kitchen door opens. Ben and Harry tumble in, school uniforms in disarray; Ben’s shirt is hanging out, Harry’s shoelaces spill across the floor. They’re followed by Miles and Hayley. Hayley looks clean and crisp and sharp. Miles is sporting his casual professor look. Loose-fitting cords, suede boots and a crumpled check shirt. He pushes his generous hair back from his eyes and smiles at me. My world lights up.

‘Good morning, Mum,’ he says as he lays the table.

‘Morning, Granny,’ Harry says with a giggle.

I give him my look, my I’ll put you on a spit and roast you look. Ben sighs sympathetically and shakes his head. He points his finger accusingly at his brother and laughs.

‘Good morning, Caprice,’ Hayley says, flashing her even teeth as she smiles. Everything about Hayley is even. Balanced cheekbones. Balanced figure. A girl with boobs and hips. ‘How’s it going this morning?’ she asks.

‘I’ve been up a while. I couldn’t sleep.’

She frowns in concern. ‘What’s the matter? I hope you’re not feeling ill?’

Miles is helping himself to Dorset Cereal, rattling it into his bowl. He looks up. ‘Yes. Are you all right, Mum?’

‘Just a bit of back pain. Stuff happens at my age. I took a few ibuprofen and it went.’

‘Well, let me know if I can do anything. Get you anything,’ Hayley says.

‘Thank you.’

‘Boys, what do you want for breakfast? The usual?’

They nod. Hayley puts a box of Weetabix on the table and they help themselves. She must be on a diet; she sits at the table sipping a black coffee. I sit watching the bad table manners of my grandsons. Harry isn’t holding his spoon correctly. He slurps the milk from around his cereal, sucking it up like a vacuum cleaner. Ben is chomping. There must be something wrong with his teeth for him to make so much noise. I’ll be sure to mention this to Saffron, when I next see her.