She’s like a snail, I think, in fascination. Every time you touch her, she retreats. But the point is, snails can be tamed.

Actually, can snails be tamed? OK, she’s not a snail, she’s a … tortoise. No. A meerkat? No. Oh, fuck knows what she is. The point is, this picture seems to have gripped Luke. I can’t tell if he’s gazing at the sea or the boat or Elinor’s revolting outfit, but something has got to him.

“Minnie would love it there.” He glances up at me. “So would you. It’s a magical place. The sand, the sea … You wouldn’t believe it.”

“You could easily charter a boat,” puts in Elinor.

“Minnie should learn to sail.” Luke has that gleamy, distant look he gets when he’s making plans. “Becky, you need to learn to sail too.”

Luke’s mentioned the whole sailing thing quite a few times in our marriage, and so far I’ve managed to avoid it.

“Can’t wait!” I say brightly.

The oven pings and we all jump. It’s as though we’ve come back to life. For an awful moment I think Luke’s going to snap back to his cold, angry self and tell Elinor to leave. But instead he looks up from the photo and surveys each of us in turn. He walks over to the window, heaves a deep sigh, and rubs his face with the flat of his hands.

I know it’s all going on inside his head. He hates to be rushed; we just have to let him get there. Elinor is following my lead. She’s standing absolutely still, barely even breathing.

“Look … maybe this has gone on long enough,” Luke says at last. “I’d like to … start again.”

As the words leave his mouth, I practically collapse in relief. Elinor doesn’t move very much at all, but I’ve learned to read her too. The two lines at her jaw have relaxed, which is the equivalent of her going Phew!

“I would like that,” she says in a low voice. “I meant what I said.”

“I know. And I didn’t mean what I said.” Luke smiles, a rueful boyish smile that makes my heart constrict. It hasn’t been easy for him, losing one mother and loathing the other. “Come here.” He pecks Elinor on the cheek. “You’ll stay for supper?”

“Well …” Elinor shoots a questioning look at me, and I nod.

“May I have the key back now?” Luke says to me.

“I suppose so,” I say teasingly, and hand it to him.

“And you must meet Minnie,” he adds to Elinor. “She won’t be asleep yet; I’ll get her up. Minnie!” he calls, unlocking the kitchen door. “There’s someone for you to meet! You haven’t seen her since she was a baby,” he adds to Elinor as he strides out. “You’ll get such a shock.”

Minnie.

Shit. Minnie. As far as Luke is concerned, Minnie and Elinor are strangers. Elinor and I meet eyes, and I can tell we’ve had exactly the same thought.

OK. Don’t panic. It’ll be fine. I just need to think quickly. I need to head this off. Think … think …

I can hear Minnie pattering down the stairs, and Luke following her and saying, “Now, Minnie, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Surprise!” replies Minnie. “Present?”

“No, not a present, a person, and here she is.…”

The kitchen door opens and Minnie stands in the doorway, a tiny figure in her frilled white nightdress and rabbit slippers. “Ladeeeeee!” she cries joyously.

“This is your grandmother!” says Luke with a flourish. “Minnie, this lady is my mother. Would you like to say hello?” Minnie isn’t listening. She rushes over, flings herself at Elinor’s legs, and then starts trying to open her bag.

“Ladeeeeee!” she says. “Daddy, is Ladeeeee!” She finds a puzzle in Elinor’s bag and pulls it out in triumph. “Puzzle, Ladeee! Do it at the table,” she enunciates carefully as she climbs onto a chair. “At the table.”

Luke is staring at them both in utter bewilderment.

“She … knows her,” he says. “Minnie, darling, do you know your grandmother?”

“Not gran-mudder,” says Minnie scornfully. “Is Ladeeee.”

“She knows you.” He addresses Elinor directly. “How could she know you? She hasn’t seen you since she was a baby.”

“She doesn’t know Elinor!” I say quickly. “Don’t be ridiculous! She’s just being friendly.” But my voice sounds false to my own ears.

I can see the truth dawning on Luke’s face.

“She used to talk about seeing a lady,” he says slowly. “We didn’t know what she was talking about.” He whips round to me, suddenly pale with fury. “That was my mother, wasn’t it? Becky, what have you been doing behind my back? And no more lying.”