‘Oh, here we go,’ said her dad, shaking his head. ‘Well, I’m not sold on this new “no time for regrets” woman. I thought you had a list of regrets tattooed to the inside of your eyeballs, Con? Marrying me being top of the list.’

‘No,’ her mum shook her head, and let out a sigh. ‘Best thing I ever did, Bill – you and my kids. I wouldn’t change you for the world.’

Minnie’s parents both reached out to squeeze each other’s hand.

Minnie looked back and forth between them. She couldn’t remember a time they’d been like this: teasing each other, laughing, being affectionate. As a teenager Minnie thought adult conversation revolved around lists; one person would list the jobs they had done, then list the jobs the other had not done. If her dad laughed, her mum would snipe at him for making light of something. When her mum finally got to sitting down in the evening, her dad would choose that moment to go and start some crucial piece of clock maintenance. She had rarely witnessed this kind of companionship between them. It was as if her mother had taken the antidote to some bitter pill she’d been swallowing all her life.

Maybe this was what her parents’ relationship had been like before they had children? Maybe the stresses of family life had knocked the love out for a while. Last time she was here, she saw her mum rub her dad’s back when she was standing in the kitchen next to him – Minnie had never seen her do that in thirty years.

‘Anything you regret, Minnie Moo, or are you going in for this “no regrets” way of thinking?’ her dad asked.

‘I regret you calling me Minnie bloody Cooper,’ Minnie said, elbowing her dad gently in the ribs.

‘Oi, I still say you’ll get a sponsorship deal off them one day.’

Minnie looked up at the clear blue September sky and thought for a moment.

‘I guess I regret giving up on No Hard Fillings like I did.’

‘You had your reasons. I’m sure you did the right thing, love,’ said her mum.

Minnie wasn’t used to this reassuring, sympathetic version of her mother. She did a double take, looking over at her, turning to her dad and then looking back again.

‘Are you sure she’s hasn’t got a brain tumour or something?’ she said to her dad in a stage whisper. ‘She doesn’t seem like herself.’

Her dad shook his head in mock solemnity. ‘My working theory is alien body snatchers.’

‘Oh, shut it you two,’ said her mum, swiping an arm in their direction.