Sol rolled his eyes affectionately. ‘What’s today’s project?’

They stopped in the doorway to take in the sight. Doctor Amelia Blythe, her long Jamaican hair in braids tied back in a practical band, looking a decade younger than her fifty-one years, was bent over the kitchen table, sweating profusely, hammer in hand. Spread out over the table was a deconstructed set of drawers. Catrin thought they looked antique and quite fragile. But this didn’t seem to bother Amelia, who was bashing the living daylights out of one of the side panels.

‘Been bothering me for months. Damn thing’s not flush with the rest!’ She gave it one more big bang and stood back to admire her work. ‘There. That should do it.’ Putting the hammer down, Amelia wiped her forehead with a tea towel, before promptly bursting into tears and turning to welcome her youngest son. ‘Solomon, Solomon – why d’you stay away so long!’

‘Hi Mum!’

And she opened her arms and wrapped him in a big, warm and loving Mama hug. Not once did she look at Catrin.

So Catrin just stood there, mute, nervously twisting the toggle on her anorak until the stupid thing came off and went flying across the room.

‘Sorry … I’ll find it later,’ she mumbled to no one in particular.

But Amelia didn’t so much as glance in her direction, so intent was she on staring at the beautiful face of her boy, as if she was seeing him for the first time.

Sol didn’t seem bothered in the least. He must be used to it, Catrin thought.

She hadn’t noticed that Edward was standing right behind her, so when he spoke, she jumped again.

‘Right, enough of the maternals – let’s have a catch-up and some tea.’

Amelia wiped her eyes and headed to the cupboard to take out the cups and saucers.

‘Catrin – Indian or China?’ asked Edward as he filled the kettle.

‘Sorry?’

‘Your tea,’ he said with a smile. ‘Do you prefer Indian or China?’

Catrin was really confused. In her house they just had PG Tips. ‘Umm …’

‘She’ll have Indian, Dad. Stop showing off,’ said Sol, laughing.

‘With lemon or milk?’

‘Dad!’ Sol looked sternly at his father. ‘Come on, Cat, let’s take our stuff upstairs.’

Once they were on their own in the guest bedroom, Catrin found her voice. ‘Sol! This is awful! They hate me!’

‘They don’t hate you, you wally. They’re just nervous. Like you are!’

‘But your mother has literally not spoken a word to me yet.’

‘Look, the thing you’ve got to understand about my mother is that she is one hundred per cent lioness. She may be a grown-up doctor in the week, saving lives and diagnosing illnesses, but when it comes to her boys she’s a freak. She would literally kill to protect us.’

‘This isn’t helping, Sol.’

Sol cupped her face in his hands. ‘You love me, don’t you?’

‘Stupid question.’

‘Well, that’s the only qualification you need, in my mother’s eyes. And I’ve never had a proper girlfriend before, so from her point of view she’s no longer the only woman in her baby boy’s life. Ask my brother Tom – my mother’s hated all his girlfriends.’