Harry’s next, squealing with delight as he opens a walking, talking robot. He winds it up and it begins to walk across the drawing room threatening to kill us. Mother’s lips tighten in disapproval. The presents for the children go on and on. Gravitrax. Lego. More Lego. A Harry Potter knight bus. A David Walliams box set. A telescope. A duelling Stomp Rocket. A baseball bat.

Hayley, who was only too delighted to accept our invitation to spend Christmas with us, as she would have been alone otherwise, is wearing a Christmas jumper and flashing reindeer antlers. I’m not sure she is keen enough on Jono to want to spend Christmas with him, but she didn’t have the option. He has gone to Scotland on his motorbike with a daredevil friend whom she disapproves of. If he is worse than Jono, he must be bad. She is stepping around presents and discarded wrapping paper, taking photographs of the children on her iPhone.

You are resplendent in a red silk and lace minidress, so flimsy it could be a nightie, sipping champagne and watching our sons, a smile playing on your lips. Since I had words with Mother this house has been so much more peaceful. It feels like a different place.

‘Adults now. Hayley first,’ Mother insists, brandishing a yellow Selfridges bag in the air. ‘Here you are, my dear,’ she says, handing it to Hayley and hugging her.

‘Thank you so much. I wasn’t expecting you to give me a present.’

‘It’s my pleasure, for a lovely girl.’

Hayley sits on the sofa and opens it. A Chanel Coco Mademoiselle box set. Perfume. Talc. Soap. Body lotion. The works.

‘It’s wonderful, thank you.’

‘And now you, Miles.’ My mother steps towards me and hugs me. She hands me my present from her. I open the gift-wrapped package, tight with ribbons and bows. A Brora cashmere jumper, so soft, slips out. ‘Thank you, Mother. It’s beautiful.’

‘And now you, Saffron,’ Mother says, walking towards the tree. She reaches behind the tree and drags out a large present. She attempts to lift it but doesn’t manage, and stands rubbing her back.

‘Can I help you, Mother?’

‘Yes, please, dear.’

I lift the box and hand it to you. It isn’t very heavy. Maybe Mother should go to yoga or Pilates to build her strength up. You open your present. A Kenwood cake mixer.

You look across at Mother and smile. ‘Thank you very much, Caprice.’

‘I know you don’t bake, or eat cake. But you’ve got to start looking after this family sometime.’

You don’t say anything, Saffron, but I see the pain in your eyes. And I know the battle has begun again.

81

Saffron

I’ve got to start looking after this family sometime, have I?