‘I was smitten the very moment I saw you, but my goodness, it wasn’t what you might call an easy birth,’ her mum said, wincing at the memory, as she cracked eggs into the Pyrex bowl that had belonged to Bessie’s nanna. ‘I wasn’t ever the same again, not down below.’

‘For the love of God, Jeannie! She doesn’t want to hear about the state of your lady bits on the day you gave birth, do you, Bessie? Not today!’ Her dad took a seat at the kitchen table and popped the harmonica back in his dressing-gown pocket.

‘Actually, Dad, I don’t want to hear about my mother’s lady bits on any day.’

‘Yes, good point!’

‘Can you please tell Philip that I’m making the pancakes and he should come down so Bessie can open her pressies.’ Her mum smiled at her, letting the excitement build.

Her dad rocked back in his chair until he was balancing on the rear two legs and then leant his head away from the table before shouting, ‘Philip, your mum’s making pancakes and you need to come down so your sister can open her pressies!’

Her mum shook her head with a look that was so well practised her dad took little notice.

‘I give up, I really do! Go and get her presents, Eddie!’ her mum said, nodding her head towards the lounge.

Bessie sat down and patted the tabletop in front of her as it filled with gifts wrapped in a wide assortment of paper, carefully harvested after each birthday, smoothed and returned to the drawer. Philip came loping down the stairs in his underwear.

‘Couldn’t you put some clothes on for your sister’s birthday?’ Her mum tutted in his direction.

He glanced down at his hairy legs and pigeon chest. ‘I’d say not, judging by the look of things.’ He sat down and flicked his fringe from his eyes.

‘Why do I bother?’ Her mum gave her umpteenth hefty sigh of the morning.

Philip looked at the open egg box next to the cooker and folded his arms across his chest with a look of disgust. ‘I can’t believe I’m being forced to sit at a table where you’re giving people animal products to eat, Mum!’

‘What are you talking about?’ Their mum whipped around to face her son, whisk in hand.

‘Philip’s a vegan now.’ Bessie nodded to show she had been paying attention.

‘Is that right?’ Her dad looked more than a little perplexed. ‘What’s a vegan, exactly?’

‘It’s like a vegetarian.’ Her mum sounded proud of her knowledge on the matter.

‘Yes, like a vegetarian, but we don’t eat any animal products at all,’ Philip informed his father condescendingly.

‘So, no bacon, no sausage, no roast lamb?’ her dad queried.

‘No, none of them – pig, pig, sheep, obviously.’ Philip stood his ground.

‘What about cheese?’