'Well, good, because they'll all be in complaining if it's not up to scratch.'

Broadgate won the silver medal in the Seaside in Bloom thing last year, and the shop window got a mention from one of the judges, so practically everyone on the Parish Council has been in reminding me how vital it is that I pull out all the stops.

'I bet you'll win gold.'

'I doubt it. Whitstable is in our group this year, and they win everything. Lady Denby's furious about it; she reckons money's been changing hands.'

Lulu heroically offers to go next door with Gran to have another floral moment with Mrs Davies and her buckets of flowers, while I worry about what Mum's going to say when she sees the wallpaper in the spare bedroom. I'm trying to take my mind off it by putting in another order for the cheap cotton when Lord Denby wanders in, looking even more vague than usual.

'Morning, my dear. Haven't seen my wife, have you? Meant to be meeting her somewhere, only I'm damned if I know where, and there'll be hell to pay if I don't track her down. Could I wait here? Think she said something about wool.'

'Of course. Would you like a cup of tea while you're waiting?'

'Delightful.'

I'm handing him a Rich Tea while he tells me about his battles with the greenfly on his roses when Lady Denby comes in, looking flustered, dragging Algie and Clarkson in her wake.

'George. I thought we agreed you'd wait in the car?'

'Did we, my dear? Completely slipped my mind. Been having a lovely chat with Moira here.'

Lord Denby calls everybody Moira. Nobody really knows why.

Lady Denby gives me an apologetic look.

'Would you like some tea, Lady Denby?'

'No thank you, very kind, but we must get on. George, you're worse than the dogs, always begging for food. I do hope he hasn't put you to any trouble.'

'Not at all, we've been talking about roses.'

Lord Denby puts his cup down.

'Charming girl offered me a cup that cheers as soon as I set foot in the place. No begging involved, Pru. Absolutely delightful.'

Lady Denby smiles at me.

'Now there was something I wanted to say to you. What was it? Oh yes. I hear congratulations are in order. Lot of that sort of thing in the war, you know.'

'Sorry?'

'Unmarried mothers. Hordes of them. Still, times have changed nobody's business but your own now. As long as you can support yourself, can't see any problem with it myself, so don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Far too much gossip in this town, in my opinion. Hope you're feeling well. Felt ghastly with all of mine.'

'Yes, fine, thank you.'

'Good. Excellent. Noticed the new display in the window glad to see you're keeping up to your usual standards. We'll give them a run for their money. That's the spirit. We'll fight them on the beaches, what?'

Clarkson is now edging forwards trying to lick my flip-flops until he's yanked backwards.

Lord Denby stands up.

'Thank you so much for the tea, Moira. Must remember to pop in here more often, and remember, soapy water, that's the thing for greenfly. The buggers hate it. Good afternoon.'

He winks at me as he opens the door, and there's a tangle of dog leads and they end up wedged in the doorway for a moment until Lady Denby manages to release them.

'Blasted dogs, you'll stay in the car if this is how you're going to behave.'

I get another wink from Lord Denby and a wave from Lady Denby as she shepherds them all back towards her ancient Volvo; I must remember to tell Elsie he might be popping in for a cup of tea and calling her Moira: she'll be absolutely thrilled. Maybe we can teach him to knit, and then he can sit upstairs making dog blankets while Lady Denby goes shopping. He did have a reputation for pinching people's bottoms, according to Betty, but I think he's well past that now. At least I hope so.

Vin and Lulu have gone to collect Mum and Dad from the airport while I get the boys from school. Actually, what I really need now is a nice little lie-down, with someone else being in charge of supper, rather than Mum and her Comments.

'Oh great, here comes Annabel.'

I'm treated to another disapproving sideways look at my stomach as she hands us the latest communique about the Summer Fayre. Connie smiles at her, which Annabel ignores as she trots off in search of other people stupid enough to have got themselves landed with doing a stall. The latest missive from mission control has decreed that we all have to appear in Victorian costume behind our respective stalls, and today's proclamation informs us that a sub-committee is meeting to coordinate outfits.

Houston, we may have a problem.

'I bet she'll have told them to put us down as chimney sweeps.'

'We shall ignore them, yes? I will be Queen Victoria, I've got a long black dress, and Mark says he will make me a crown. She will hate that, I think?'

'Brilliant. And I can be Albert she'll hate that even more. A heavily pregnant Albert.'

'Or we could make beautiful dresses like Anna in The King and I?'

'I don't think they make crinolines that big, Con. And anyway, I don't know how to waltz.'

'I will show you.'

We're having a quick practice as the kids come out.

Jack and Marco are shaking their heads.

'Can we go home now, Mum? I want to see Mariella.' Mum insists the boys don't call her "Gran", and has adopted Mariella as her name since they've been living in Italy.

Trust Jack to bring me back down to earth with a jolt.

I'm putting a vase of tulips on the chest of drawers in the spare bedroom when Jack thunders upstairs yelling, 'They're here, they're here.'

I'm trying to take deep calming breaths, but it doesn't seem to be working. Brace, brace, brace.

'Good journey, Mum?'

Vin's standing behind her rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

'They lost Mum's suitcase.' He's trying not to laugh.

'Oh dear.'

'Oh dear? It's much worse than that, Josephine. My wedding outfit was in that case, and if they think they're going to get away with this then they're very much mistaken. I do have connections, you know.'

Vin sniggers.

'With who, Mum? The Mafia won't cut much ice with British Airways.'

She gives him a furious look.

'Thank you, Vincent, so helpful as usual. Josephine, I need you to make some calls. Start with your friend Ellen.'

'Ellen?'

'Once they know the press are involved they'll soon buck their ideas up. And could someone please make me an infusion I've got some herbal mixtures my little man has given me. He says my stress-levels are extraordinary and this is hardly going to help. Derek, where did you put my rescue remedy?'

By the time I've persuaded her that Ellen isn't likely to run a story about her lost suitcase on the six o'clock news, and I've called the lost-luggage number what seems like hundreds of times and listened to the annoying music only to be told that they're still trying to locate the bag and will call us back when they have an update, Mum is in a major sulk. The boys have tried to introduce her to Trevor the Loony Lurcher, but she wasn't terribly impressed, so I'm helping her unpack while everyone else is outside in the back garden playing football. Luckily all her herbal sachets appear to be in Dad's case, so at least I won't need to be tracking down an emergency herbalist.

'So what do you think of the house, Mum?'

As soon as I've asked her this I wish I hadn't; she's doing one of her Tactful Faces.

'It's got potential, but it needs lots of work. Why on earth did you paint the hall that terrible colour?'

'It's only magnolia, Mum. I had lots of tins left over from all the decorating I did in London, but it's a start. I'd love you to tell me what colours would work best.'

'I'm far too exhausted to start decorating, Josephine.'

'I didn't mean '

'And if you don't mind me saying so that dress is terribly unflattering.'

'Gran made it for me. It's been really hot.'

'Hot? It's barely warm. You should try a summer in Venezia if you want heat. Actually, are you feeling all right, darling? You do look rather bloated.'

Bloated. Great. Just the look I was going for.

'A bit tired, that's all. The boys are very excited though, about the baby.'

'Well, I'm pleased for you, you know that, darling, if you're sure this is what you want. But perhaps this might be a good time to take stock.'

'Of what?'

'You can't stay stuck in that dreadful shop for ever, and now might be a good time to move back to civilisation. I'm sure you could afford it if you tried. Get a job in television again, a proper career. So much more suitable.'

In other words much more suitable for showing off to her friends about her daughter who works in television.

'I know, but I like it here, Mum. I know you didn't like growing up here, but it really works for me and the boys.'

'Well, I can't imagine why. Don't you find it terribly stifling? That's one of the lovely things about Venezia so much freedom, and artistic spirit. Surely you don't want to stay stuck here for ever?'

'I don't know, but for now I do. The boys are really happy; they love their school and being near Gran.'

As soon as I've said this I realise it's exactly the wrong thing to say. She stiffens, and refolds a T-shirt.

'Yes, well, of course, as far as she's concerned Broadgate is the centre of the universe.'

'Where shall I put this, Mum?' I'm holding up a long green kaftan, with what look like parrots appliqued on to the sleeves in purple. Dear God, I hope she won't be wearing it at breakfast or I'll have to gag Archie.

'On the chair, please.'

'I really want you to see the shop I've made quite a few changes, you know. Gran's bringing Reg round for tea later, and then we've got our Stitch and Bitch group tonight, so if you fancy coming along to that everyone would really love to meet you.'

'Perhaps tomorrow I'm far too stressed today. Are there any more hangers? Wooden ones, please I want to hang your father's suit up. Why you use these dreadful wire ones is beyond me. Nobody in Italy would dream of using them.'

'Sorry.'

'I think I've got one of my heads starting.'

I know exactly how she feels.

'Oh dear. Is there anything you need?'

'Draw the curtains, please. If I lie perfectly still I might stave it off. Perhaps you could bring me up something light. Have you got any broth?'

Broth? Dear God, she'll be asking for calves-foot jelly next.

'I've got some tins of soup, if that's any good. I'll go and have a look.'

'Never mind.'

Vin and Dad are at home waiting on Mum, who's consumed a tin of Scotch broth and two slices of toasted cheese and was agitating for cake as Lulu and I were leaving for the shop. She managed to come downstairs briefly to meet Reg, before retiring back to her bed; Reg didn't seem to mind, and was very solicitous, making a huge fuss of her, which went down well, but I could see that Gran was annoyed, and a little bit hurt.

Lulu's putting the cups and saucers out on the workroom table while Connie arranges biscuits on a plate; Mark's been experimenting with biscuits over the past few weeks, and they've all been delicious. Tonight we've got chocolate shortbreads and almond macaroons, so things are definitely starting to look up.

'So, your mother, is she coming later?'

'No, Con, she's at home sulking. She thinks she's got jet-lag.'

'From a two-hour flight?'

'Gran brought Reg round and I think the strain of having to be nice for more than five minutes finished her off.'

'But you are all still coming for supper tomorrow night, yes?'

'Please.'

'Mark is making something special. He says it will be a pre-wedding banquet. And the wedding cake is nearly finished. Your gran had a picture of one with three layers, but Mark thinks she was worried it would be too difficult for him, so she chose a smaller one. But he has made one with four layers, as a surprise, and the people on top, they dance.'

'That sounds brilliant.'