‘Wow, yeah – thanks. If that’s OK, Marty?’ Susie looked over at her boss, who nodded enthusiastically. He loved the way Poppy was with the little people – it just made her all the more likeable.

‘Creep,’ muttered Bella under her breath.

‘You know I’m not Poppy’s greatest fan,’ said Andy, putting his hand on Bella’s leg and giving it a little squeeze, ‘but I have to say, I think she’s doing a brilliant job.’

‘Yeah, and she looks amazing!’ Mark laughed.

‘Are we going to talk all the way through it?’ said Olivia, glancing at her daughter. ‘Let’s save the comments until the end, shall we?’

So they turned back to the TV and watched the rest of the programme in silence.

‘You’ve excelled yourself again, Princess,’ said Bernie, licking his lips and patting his paunch.

They were just finishing off lunch, which had been to die for – the aromatic lamb, so tender it fell off the bone, offset by deeply savoury crispy bits and a variety of summer vegetables. The sweetness of the petits pois à la français – peas simmered in stock with shallots and lettuce hearts – had complemented the meat particularly successfully. And nothing beat Olivia’s crispy, fluffy roast potatoes.

‘It was a joint effort,’ said Olivia. ‘Credit where it’s due.’

‘Too right,’ said Andy, smiling at Bella. ‘To the cooks!’ He raised his glass, and Bernie, Justin and Mark followed suit.

‘The cooks!’

Bella smiled, feeling all warm and happy again, her earlier resentment towards Poppy all but forgotten. The rest of the show had been equally sparkling, as she drank cocktails on the roof terrace, chatting away happily with Susie, and flirting with random handsome men reclining on sun loungers. But she never lost sight of conveying the important bits, the facts that would be useful to anybody actually wanting to visit this particular hotel. Poppy was destined for TV greatness; that much was apparent to all.

But the show had finished hours ago, much wine had been consumed since, and (largely thanks to Olivia) many more topics discussed. Bella always loved sitting around her mother’s kitchen table, eating delicious food and getting happily sloshed.

And it felt especially cosy inside now, as the storm continued to rage fiercely outside the windows. Bernie and Justin had lit a fire in the grate, with much showing off of their manly skills, and Olivia had switched on the many lamps that gave a soft, flattering glow to the family kitchen.

There was another roar of thunder, this one so loud it made them all jump.

‘Bloody English summer!’ Bella laughed. ‘But not for you and Mum for much longer, Bernie. Aren’t you off to Miami in a week or two?’

A couple of months into Bernie and Olivia’s relationship, Bernie had moved into the mill house, selling his faux-Tudor monstrosity up the road for several millions. But he had kept his two other properties – an ultra-modern villa on Miami Beach and a surprisingly beautiful Art Nouveau apartment in Istanbul – and he and Olivia now led an enviably jet-set lifestyle, dividing their time between the three destinations.