She had just settled Marie and Cyril in front of the television and was standing in the kitchen doorway, giving Mr Spence a pursed look. (She clearly doesn’t think much of the way you can see his hairy legs through the holes in his tracksuit bottoms either.) Mother was late in, so I had time to say, ‘Have you heard about this man Mother’s giving French lessons to?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, isn’t it good, dear?’

‘No, it’s not.’ I was whispering because of Mr S. ‘He’s not very nice.’

‘Constance!’

‘He just isn’t. He’s…’ I lowered my voice even further. ‘He’s seeing other women.’

Enid took a sharp intake of breath. I’d got her on a raw spot. (She’s never recovered from Jack’s treatment of Mother.) ‘Poor lamb. Widowed at such an early age and then shackled to such a disaster of a man…’

This distracted me. I always feel I need to stand up for Jack when even his mother’s horrible about him. I said brightly, ‘The fish thing doesn’t seem to be going too badly,’ but she just sniffed, as if she could smell it from there. I said, ‘Anyway, can you have a word with her about this bloke Bert?’

She shook her head. ‘I really don’t think it’s my place. Sssssh.’ Mr Spence had materialized at my shoulder.

He said, ‘Sorry to disturb your little confabulation, but if it is all right with you two lovely ladies, I need to move, to redeploy, my ladder.’ Now he’s more relaxed around our house – he should be, he bloody well lives in the place – he keeps putting on silly voices like this.

I raised my eyes to the ceiling and moved out of the way, and after that I didn’t have a chance to say any more, because Granny E. realized the time and left, but at least I’ve planted a seed.