A blond-haired toddler is clutching his leg and, as I watch, Tarquin gently prizes his fingers off.
“Ernie,” he says patiently.
Ernie? I feel an almighty shock. My godson, Ernest? But last time I saw him he was a tiny little baby.
“Wilfie looks like a girl!” Suze is saying to Tarquin, her brow crumpled in that familiar way. “And Clementine looks like a boy!”
“My sweet, they both look exactly like babies in christening robes,” says Tarquin.
“What if they’re both gay?” Suze is looking anxiously at Tarquin. “What if their hormones got mixed up when they were in the womb?”
“They’re fine!”
I feel ridiculously shy, hovering by the door. I don’t want to interrupt. They look like a family. They are a family.
“What’s the time?” Suze tries to consult her watch, but Ernie is now clinging to her arm, trying to jump up. “Ernie, sweetheart, I need to do my lipstick! Leave Mummy’s arm alone… Can you take him for a sec, Tarkie?”
“Let me just put Clemmie down somewhere… ” Tarquin starts looking around the room as though a cot might magically spring up out of nowhere.
“I’ll take her if you like,” I say, my voice catching in my throat.
Suze whips round.
“Bex?” Her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. “Bex?”
“We’re back!” I try to sound cool. “Surprise!”
“Oh my God! Oh my God!”
Suze thrusts the baby at Tarquin, who manfully does a kind of juggling act with the two of them. She races toward me and throws her arms around my neck.
“Bex! Mrs. Brandon!”
“Mrs. Cleath-Stuart!” I return, feeling tears prick at my eyes. I knew Suze wouldn’t have changed. I knew it.
“I can’t believe you’re back!” Suze’s face is glowing. “Tell me all about your honeymoon! Tell me every single thing you—” She breaks off suddenly, staring at my bag. “Oh my God,” she breathes. “Is that a real Angel bag?”
Ha! You see? People who know, know.
“Of course it is.” I swing it nonchalantly on my arm. “Just a little souvenir from Milan. Er… I wouldn’t mention it in front of Luke, though,” I add, lowering my voice. “He doesn’t exactly know about it.”
“Bex!” says Suze half reprovingly, half laughing. “He’s your husband!”
“Exactly.” I meet her eye, and we both start giggling.
God, it’s like I never left.
“So, how’s married life?” asks Suze.
“The African headdress one?” says Suze, flushing. “Er… I don’t know!”
I give her a piercing look. She’s hidden her mum’s hat, I know it.
“Caroline!” Suze’s father’s voice comes resounding through the air, and the next moment he’s coming into the hall, dressed in a paisley silk dressing gown over a pair of pin-striped trousers. His hair is white and bushy, and his nose has become a lot redder in the year since I last saw him. In fact, it’s practically purple.
“Hello, Sir Gilbert,” I begin politely. “How are you—”
“Caroline!” he repeats, totally ignoring me. “Fella says we could have a lion in the front paddock. He’ll ship it over, do all the paperwork. What about it?” Sir Gilbert’s bright blue eyes flash with excitement. “That’d add a bit of spice to life, eh?” He gives a sudden lionlike roar, and I jump.