‘Great!’

‘For the first hour, that’s all,’ he laughed and kissed her. ‘Now, you know we’ll have to sleep in separate rooms, don’t you?’

‘God, of course! There’s no way I could sleep in the same bed as you in this house – even if they didn’t mind. And don’t be sneaking in at night – I’ll have a heart attack!’

‘Can’t promise that, I’m afraid,’ and he started kissing her neck.

‘SOLOMON! TEA!’ yelled his mother from downstairs, and Catrin froze, firmly believing that she and Sol would never have sex ever again.

She need not have worried, of course. Sol was right. They’d been drinking tea in the little lounge – or breakfast room as the Blythes referred to it – and Catrin had been so nervous that the saucer rattled every time she put her cup back down. She was busting for a wee but was too scared to ask, since Sol was deep in conversation with both his parents, answering a slew of questions about the course, chatting in a flurry of medical jargon. She couldn’t find a suitable time to interrupt, but knew she had to.

‘So sorry, but can I use the toilet?’ she burst out, and all three turned to look at her.

‘The lavatory? Of course,’ said Edward. ‘Second door on the left.’

Catrin clumsily put down her cup and saucer, thinking it was the worst cup of tea she’d ever tasted, and headed out to the loo.

As she sat there, she wondered whether she’d made a big mistake in coming, but decided to trust Sol. After all, they were his parents. He knew what they were like. She washed and dried her hands, noticing the expensive hand wash and the pristine, neatly folded towel. This place was a world away from what she’d grown up with and she suddenly felt overwhelmingly homesick. Fighting back an unexpected desire to cry, she opened the toilet door and nearly jumped out of her skin. Standing there, arms folded and waiting, was Amelia.

‘So,’ she said, and Catrin wondered what she could possibly have done wrong.

‘Sorry?’

‘My son tells me you are the love of his life.’

‘Oh … did he?’

‘Is he the love of yours?’

‘Gosh, yes. I mean, I … I love the absolute bones of him, Mrs … Dr Blythe. And his face and his hands and his soul and everything! And his heart and, well, all of him. Every last drop.’

Amelia stared for a moment, which felt to Catrin like an hour, then she narrowed her eyes. ‘Anyone who hurts my boy hurts me a hundred times more. You understand that?’

‘But I don’t want to hurt Solomon,’ she said, confused. ‘Why would I want to hurt Solomon?’

And suddenly Amelia was laughing – the glorious Jamaican cackle that Sol had gone on about so much. And Catrin was laughing too, and before she knew it, she was enveloped in Amelia’s arms and being rocked back and forth. ‘Welcome to the family, little Cat.’