“Mum, we have some news,” Timothy said at dinner on Friday. He and Lucy were sitting across from Diane, eating the shepherd’s pie she had prepared.

He had unexpectedly called Diane a few days earlier to ask if they could come over and spend the night. Usually she had to plead and beg for Tim and Lucy to make it down to Tynebury for a visit. Not that she blamed them; they had a full and exciting life in London.

Diane’s heart started beating a little faster at Timothy’s words. Could it be…?

“We’re expecting a baby,” he continued. “It’s a little earlier than we had planned, but hey ho, these things happen.” The smile he sent Lucy as he was talking belied the reluctance of his words.

“Oh Tim, Lucy,” Diane said, her heart bursting with joy. “I’m so happy for you both.” She stood up and walked around the table to give Lucy a hug, her eyes welling up. “How far along are you?”

“Three months,” Lucy said. “I’m just about starting to show.”

“You look radiant,” Diane looked Lucy up and down. “I should have known something was up when Tim called to say you wanted to come over.”

“Oh Mum,” Tim said, taking Diane into his arms for a hug. “You know we’ll be down here all the time once the baby’s here—free babysitting and all that.” He released Diane from his embrace and gave her a wide grin.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Diane said. “This calls for some Champagne, don’t you think? A small glass won’t hurt you, Lucy. Goodness knows I had the occasional tipple when I was pregnant with this one here”—she pointed at Tim—“and he seems to have turned out just fine.”

Diane hurried to the cellar to fetch a bottle from the wine fridge. She took a moment to steady herself. She was going to be a grandmother. She could hardly believe it.

She returned to the dining room, stopping by the kitchen to pick up some flutes.

“Here, darling,” she said, handing the bottle to Timothy. “You do the honours.”

He popped the cork and poured out three glasses.

Diane picked hers up and held it in front of her. “To you, Lucy, for giving me my first grandchild. May there be many more to come.”

“Mother,” Timothy said laughing, “let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ll start with one and see how that goes.”

“All right, all right,” Diane conceded.

They drank from their Champagne and sat back down at the table.

“Have you told your father yet?” Diane asked.

“No,” Timothy said. “We wanted to tell you first. But we’re going over there tomorrow to give him the news.”

“I hope your news doesn’t give Debbie any ideas,” Diane blurted.

Timothy and Lucy guffawed.

“Mum,” he said, clearly amused by her comment.

“Sorry, darling. I shouldn’t say things like that.” Diane looked at him apologetically. “But she is about the same age as you. Her biological clock must be manifesting itself.”

“I know,” Timothy said. “I still find it hard to wrap my head around sometimes. Can you imagine Dad having a kid with Debbie? He or she would be younger than ours.” He looked quite appalled at the whole idea.

“I would rather not think about that, dear,” Diane said. “But I have to hand it to your father, he was always very good with you when you were a baby. He definitely did his share of the night-time feeds and nappy changing.” She paused. “That doesn’t mean I can imagine him doing it all again now. Anyway, I don’t think you need to worry. Debbie doesn’t seem like the type who’d want to sacrifice her figure, not even for a child.” She winked at her son.

After they had finished dessert, Lucy went to bed in Timothy’s old bedroom which now served as a guest room. She was tired from the journey down and, Diane suspected, she wanted to give Timothy some alone time with his mother.

Diane came into the living room carrying a teapot and a couple of cups on a tray. She put the tray down on the low table in front of the sofa.

“Would you like a biscuit with this?” she asked him as she poured them each a cup. “I think I have some in the pantry.”

“This is fine, Mum. I’m so full from dinner. You know I can never stop myself having seconds—or thirds—when you make your shepherd’s pie. It’s the best.” He smiled at her.

Diane did an internal dance of triumph at her small culinary victory over Debbie.

“It’s so nice to have you down. I really hope you meant it when you said you’d be here more often once the baby comes.”

“I promise”—Timothy put his hand on his heart solemnly—“that we will come and see you all the time. You’ll wish we stayed away more.”

They drank their tea in silence.

“Have you never thought of trying to find someone new?” Timothy asked after a while.

Diane almost spat out the tea in her mouth, so unexpected was this question coming from her son. She swallowed and replied, “I have thought about it, of course. It would be nice to meet someone to share things with.” She paused. In the immediate wake of the divorce Diane had harboured many thoughts of finding a dashing, successful man she could show off to spite Lawrence. After a while the thought of spiting Lawrence had faded and Diane had simply hoped for a companion, dashing or not.

“The thing is,” Diane said, “I don’t even know how I would go about meeting someone.”

“Aren’t there any eligible bachelors at the club?” Timothy asked. “How about Lionel?” He sent her a cheeky smile.

Diane picked up a cushion from the sofa and threw it at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But, seriously, Mum,” Timothy said. “If you want to meet someone, there are ways. Have you tried making yourself a Tinder profile?”

Diane scoffed. “That’s even more ridiculous than the idea of dating Lionel.”

“I’m serious. Most of your time is occupied either by work or the golf club. You’ll never meet someone new if you don’t move out of your comfort zone. If internet dating is not your thing, how about going on an organised trip, or a cruise? There must be dozens of travel companies who cater to people in your exact situation. The grey pound is big these days.” He grinned at her.

Diane waved off his suggestion. “I told Isabelle I might go to Florida with her next time she flies over. Maybe I can meet a rich American retiree when I’m there. And that’s the end of this conversation.”

Timothy picked up the teapot and refilled their cups.

“I have made a new friend,” Diane said. “Or at least I think we’re becoming friends. It’s Tamsin, the new pro at the club.”

“Oh yes,” Timothy said. “Dad mentioned there was a new professional starting soon. How is she?”

“She’s very nice,” Diane replied, her lips expanding into a smile. “I took a lesson with her yesterday. I already feel like I’ll be able to lower my handicap very soon.”

“After one lesson?” Timothy looked slightly incredulous. “Now that would be efficient teaching.”

“Anyway, I talked to her quite a bit at the season opening dinner.” Diane chuckled. “Old Lionel tried to make a pass at her after dinner.”

“Oh no, competition for you.”

“Stop it,” Diane said. “Anyway, from what I hear, she wouldn’t be interested in Lionel, him being a man.” She paused. “On a more serious note, have you spoken to Rob recently? He must be cut up that Matthew didn’t get accepted to the club.”

“Rob tried to call me a few days ago,” Timothy said, “but I missed his call. I was thinking of going over tomorrow, since I’m in the area.” He sighed. “That’s really terrible. I know the club’s old-fashioned and traditional and all that, but I didn’t think it was that bad.” He thought for a few seconds. “Is there anything we can do? Is there some kind of appeal procedure?”

“I don’t think so,” Diane said. “He’ll probably need to wait until the next application period and try again. Which I’m not sure he’ll do. Tynebury might have been Rob’s home club since he was a child, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to find somewhere else that will accept them both, gay or not. And the RTGC really shouldn’t drive away its younger members.”

“Very true,” Timothy said. He put down his cup on the tray and stood up. “On that note, I think I’ll go see if Lucy has settled in. I’m pretty knackered.”

Diane stood as well and embraced her son. “Sleep well, darling. Thank you for making me so happy tonight.”