(I do sometimes wonder if that’s what I was like when I was her age. I must ask Mum.)

(Actually, on second thought, I’m not sure I want to know.)

So my new tactic when we go shopping is to tell Minnie that we don’t have any money. Which she kind of understands. Except then she accosts total strangers and says, “We don’t have any money,” in a sorrowful voice, which can be embarrassing.

Now she’s addressing Speaky, her dolly, in stentorian tones. “Put. It. Back.” She confiscates a packet of peanuts from Speaky and eyes the doll fiercely. “Is. Not. Yours.”

Oh God. Is that what I sound like?

“Talk kindly to Speaky,” I suggest. “Like this.”

I take Speaky and cradle her in my arms, whereupon Minnie grabs her possessively from me. “Speaky is crying,” she tells me. “Speaky need…a sweetie?”

She has a sudden mischievous glint in her eye, and I can’t help wanting to laugh.

“We haven’t got any sweeties,” I tell her, totally straight-faced.

“This is a sweetie?” She picks up the Toblerone uncertainly.

“No, that’s a grown-up boring box,” I tell her. “No sweetie.”

Minnie stares at the Toblerone, and I can see her little brain working hard. She’s never actually eaten a Toblerone, so it was a pretty good guess on her part.

“It’s not a sweetie,” I reiterate matter-of-factly. “We’ll buy a sweetie another day. Now it’s putting-away time.”

I can see Minnie’s conviction wavering. She might think she knows everything, but at the end of the day, she’s only two and a half.

“Thank you!” I take it neatly from her grasp. “Now, can you count the bottles?”

This was a genius move, as Minnie adores counting, even if she always misses out “four.” We’ve managed to get all the bottles back in the minibar and are just moving on to light snacks and refreshments, when the door opens and Mum appears, with Janice in tow. Both are flushed in the face, Janice is wearing a plastic tiara, and Mum is clutching a cup full of coins.

“Hello!” I say. “Did you have a good cocktail?”

“I won over thirty dollars!” Mum says with a kind of grim triumph. “That’ll show your father.”

Mum makes no sense. How will that show Dad anything? But there’s no point questioning her when she’s in this mood.

“Well done!” I say. “Nice tiara, Janice.”

“Oh, it was free,” says Janice breathlessly. “There’s a dancing competition later, you know. They’re promoting it.”

“We’re going to take a breather while you go out with Luke, and then we’re going to hit the town,” says Mum, waving her cup for emphasis. “Do you have any false eyelashes I can put on, love?”

“Well…yes,” I say, a bit surprised. “But I’ve never known you to wear false eyelashes, Mum.”

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” she says, giving me a meaningful look.

What happens in Vegas? OK, does she just mean false eyelashes or something else? I’m wondering how I can ask her tactfully if she’s all right or actually going off the rails, when my phone bleeps with a text.

“It’s Danny!” I say, feeling a lift of delight. “He’s here! He’s downstairs.”

“Well, if you’re ready, why don’t you go down and see him, love?” says Mum. “We’ll give Minnie her bath and put her to bed. Won’t we, Janice?”

“Of course!” says Janice. “Dear little Minnie is never any trouble.”

“Are you sure?” I wrinkle my brow. “Because I can easily do it—”

“Don’t be silly, Becky!” says Mum. “I don’t see enough of my grandchild these days. Now, Minnie, come and sit on Grana’s knee.” She holds out her arms for Minnie to run into. “We’ll have a nice story and play some games and…I know!” She beams. “Let’s have a lovely yummy Toblerone!”


SEVEN

I find Danny at a corner table in Bouchon, which is a posh, linen-tablecloths kind of restaurant. He’s deeply tanned (it’s got to be fake), he’s wearing a baby-blue biker jacket, and he’s sitting with a very blond, very pale girl with no makeup except deep-purple lipstick.