I hated that tinge of whining in his voice, the way his features, still smooth and acne-free, twisted into a frown. No one ever tells you that this is the downside of giving your kids everything you never had – they turn into spoiled little brats. ‘Look, just eat your dinner with us and be polite and then you can do whatever you want. Watch a film or play on your iPad or something. OK?’ Good plates, ice cream from freezer, polish glasses.

‘What are we having?’ His fingers never stopped, swiping, swiping, swiping at the device. I watched his eyes, the irises such a clear blue, jiggle along with it, and worried about screen time, attention deficit disorder, spoiling him.

‘I’m doing tagine. Couscous, salad, that sort of thing.’ Although now I’d planned the menu and ordered the Ocado shop and the lamb and vegetables were sitting in piles on the chopping board in front of me, I worried it was too easy.

Benji groaned. ‘I hate Moroccan.’

I felt the words bubble in my mouth: When I was your age I’d never even heard of Moroccan. I bit them down. ‘Benj. This is important to me, and to Dad. We haven’t all been together, all us friends, since university. It’s a special weekend. So how about you stop the poor little rich boy routine, huh?’

‘Do I really have to share with Cassie?’

‘You know you do. We don’t have space for everyone otherwise.’

‘But Cassie always wakes me up. She’s on her phone all night, the light shines in my eyes.’

The list in my head was unravelling. I glanced at the clock – bugger, I had to leave in less than an hour. Why did I have to meet Vix today of all days? ‘I’ll tell her not to then. Is your room tidy for Auntie Karen?’

‘Yeah.’ He reached for the packet of Kettle Chips and I batted his hand away.

‘You’ve just had lunch. Why don’t you go and play, Benj?’

‘Play what?’

I was sure at his age I’d been more self-sufficient than this. I had to speak to Mike about taking away his iPad. I added that to the mental list under check loos, light candles, and all the other things I had to do before they arrived. Why did I always run out of time? I offered a sop to my son. ‘Listen. You know Bill, who’s coming? He goes fishing all the time in Sweden. I bet he’ll show you how, if you ask nicely.’

One blue eye cocked at me over the iPad screen. I had him.