‘Well, what are you doing turning up here at this time and scaring your grandmother and most of the guests half to death?’ Mum retorted, ushering Grandma back inside.

‘I did tell you in my message that we’d be arriving after ten,’ I said, following them in.

‘We?’ Dad asked, eyebrows beetling in consternation as he waited for Daniel to pass him before closing the door.

‘Yes!’ I blew out a sigh of exasperation. ‘I left two messages on the answerphone. Didn’t you get them?’

Mum and Dad exchanged blank glances before turning to look at Grandma. ‘Have you been pressing buttons on the phone again, Mother?’ Mum asked, sternly.

‘Well, how else am I supposed to listen to the messages?’ she replied, shaking her head in bemusement. ‘I’ve been answering that phone since before you were born. I think I know how it works.’

‘So you didn’t know I was coming?’ I asked. ‘This is ridiculous. I’ve called several times and emailed over the past few weeks. What if there’d been an emergency?’

‘Well, has there been?’ Dad asked, glancing around as if it might have snuck into his kitchen.

‘No.’ Sort of. But that was back in January and I knew better than to try to drag you into that sorry mess.

‘What’s the problem, then?’

I didn’t add what I really wanted to say: What if I wanted to just talk to my parents? Tell you how I was? Ask for advice or even find out how you were doing?

‘I hope there is no problem,’ I replied. ‘Because we’ve driven all the way from Nottinghamshire and were expecting a comfortable bed followed by an infamous Tufted Duck breakfast.’

‘Do you have a confirmation number or booking reference?’ Mum asked, her eyes darting.

‘Clearly not! I didn’t think I needed an eight-digit number to visit my family home!’ I couldn’t bear to look at Daniel, the man who had welcomed a strange, bedraggled woman into his farm and given her a room and a hot meal. Plus a whole new life.

‘Well, this is most inconvenient! We don’t do walk-ins at this time of night. And besides, it’s the Weighbridge Walkers’ annual Windermere Walking Week.’

‘Mum, I am not a walk-in! I’m at the very least a customer whose booking you misplaced, and hopefully even more significantly than that I’m your daughter!’

‘Well, this man isn’t a relative.’ She looked at Daniel and then jumped her eyes back to me. ‘Is he? Are they?’ she added, jerking her chin towards Hope.

‘This is Daniel, Charlie’s brother, and Hope, his daughter. And they’d like a room and a cot, please.’

‘Well, I simply don’t know…’ The dressing gown got another tug. Dad said nothing, deciding instead to take Grandma back to bed.

‘They can have the Mallard room,’ Grandma called over her shoulder, in a flash of lucidity that put my suspicions about her previous nonsense in a whole new light. ‘That walker cancelled at the last minute, remember, after tripping over their walking stick.’