It’s near the end of November now. Which means that by the time I come back from my adventure, I’ll only have to wait a short time before Jake comes scurrying back. My heart gives a little leap of joy.

But before we can discuss it further, my mother arrives and breezes into the kitchen. She eyes Pip with something that looks like contempt and to his credit he pretends not to notice. My mother tosses down her handbag and proceeds to peel off her gloves with what can only be described as purpose.

‘Edie’s just told me what all that clutter is.’ Thanks, Edie. ‘What on earth are you thinking of?’

‘I thought it would be a change. Something to put on the CV. Something to tell the grandchildren.’

‘You’ve got to have your own children before you can be a grandmother,’ she notes and gives Pip another once-over to check whether he might be a suitable candidate.

‘I thought you’d be pleased.’ I thought no such thing.

‘I would be, darling,’ she says, hand on my arm. ‘You know I support you in everything you do.’ I bite back the comment, Since when? My mother suddenly looks a little faint. ‘What’s Mummy going to do without you, darling?’ That’s more like it.

‘I’m sure you’ll manage,’ I say lightly. ‘I’ll be back before you know it.’

‘I do hope so,’ my martyred parent says mysteriously.

To distract herself from her plight, Cecilia trails an exploratory finger over my work surfaces, which are often found wanting in the cleanliness stakes. ‘But aren’t you doing it all with rather indecent haste?’

‘Spontaneity,’ I say. ‘It’s something that’s been lacking in my life for too long. I thought this would take my mind off things.’

My mother looks doubtful. At that point, Daisy comes into the room. She’s wearing my down jacket, which touches the floor, and has my bobble hat wedged over her eyes. ‘I’m a Yeti, Grandma,’ my niece says and growls ferociously to prove it.

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Aunty Lyssa will know all about those in a few weeks.’

From behind my mother’s shoulder, Pip catches my eye. He gives me an approving look.

‘I thought it would be fun,’ I say rather lamely. I can only hope that I’m right.

Everyone else has gone, except my sister. She somehow persuaded her husband to take the children home without her—primarily on the pretence that she was going to stay here and help me clear up the mess. Her children have eaten me out of house and home, so clearing up mainly involves drinking the dregs of wine from the half a dozen bottles we managed to open.

I’m washing up some serving dishes that are too big to go into the dishwasher. Edie has her feet up on the kitchen table, glass of wine nestling on her chest.