‘All fine.’ Bella smiled. ‘God, that’s starting to smell amazing.’ She nodded at the Aga. ‘Slow-cooked shoulder of lamb?’

Olivia nodded back.

‘I can smell the garlic and rosemary. Anchovies too?’

‘Of course.’ It had been a family favourite since Bella was a teenager, when they’d spent several summer holidays in Provence.

‘How long ago did you put it in?’

‘About four hours ago,’ said Olivia, checking her watch. ‘Needs a couple more at least, which will give us a chance to have a jolly old natter.’ One rarely sat down to Sunday lunch before five p.m. at Olivia’s house. By which time one was generally pretty well oiled.

‘OK, chuck me a knife and I’ll get started on the shallots.’

Seated at the table, armed with knife and chopping board, an enormous array of vegetables spread out in front of her, wineglass happily within reach of her left hand, Bella looked at her mother over the table.

‘You’re looking pretty, Mum. I love your top.’

Olivia was barefoot, in rolled-up jeans and a floaty white embroidered tunic top that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Ibiza Old Town. She’d tied her very slightly silver-threaded dark brown hair up into a girlish ponytail, and adorned earlobes and wrists with ethnic turquoise jewellery.

‘Thanks, darling. I picked it up in a little boutique a couple of days after Poppy’s wedding. It’s more suited to a Balearic climate than this ghastly English weather though.’ She nodded out of the window, at the lowering clouds and rapidly darkening sky. ‘Looks like we’ll be eating around the kitchen table again. Such a shame – we haven’t managed one alfresco lunch with you and Andy this summer.’

‘Never mind,’ Bella smiled. ‘We always have a good time around this table.’ She took a sip of her wine and laughed. ‘So, how long has Dad been taking pictures of Bernie?’

Olivia groaned. ‘I knoooww. Ridiculous, isn’t it? Of course, it’s nice that my ex-husband and my …’ She paused coyly for a moment.

‘Please, don’t say lover, Mum.’

‘Don’t worry, darling. Um … it’s nice that Justin and Bernie are friends, but I hadn’t anticipated them getting on quite so well. Your father almost seems to hero-worship Bernie, and Bernie treats him with the kind of affectionate amusement you’d reserve for your favourite naughty child.’

‘And which one of us would that be, then?’ Bella had never quite got over her sibling rivalry with Max.

‘Don’t be silly, Bella. Anyway, I’ll be quite glad to have Bernie to myself again, once your father’s buggered back off to Mallorca.’

‘Yeah, I can imagine – he and Bernie had nipped off to take some more photos by the apple tree when I went out there just now. You must feel a bit of a spare prick—’

There was a loud clap of thunder and seconds later the heavy black clouds outside the south-facing windows disgorged the contents of their swollen bellies. It was really, seriously, pissing it down.