I still can't really believe there's going to be a baby at the end of all this. It still seems completely unreal, even though I've been here twice before. A whole new person invisibly getting on with growing, ready for D-Day. It's extraordinary. The midwife says we're already on the top bit of the chart for growth, and all my tests so far have been fine. But it still doesn't seem real.

I'm standing with my hand across my tummy when Elsie comes upstairs.

'I'm putting the kettle on. Do you want tea?'

She's been pretty sniffy about Olivia's idea for a Saturday group so far, so any hint of an olive branch needs to be firmly grasped.

'Lovely. Thanks, Elsie. You haven't seen those cake plates we had in the window last year, have you?'

'I put them in the back of the cupboard under the sink, wrapped up in plastic for safekeeping. Dangerous having glass on those shelves they could fall off and hurt someone.'

'Oh, right. Great.'

I wish she'd tell me when she squirrels stuff away in the kitchen.

'How many teenagers do you think will be coming? Because you know what they're like they'll be up to all sorts, you mark my words.'

'Olivia's very sensible, though, don't you think?'

'That's as may be, but put them all together and they'll be drinking spirits before you know it.'

Boozing upstairs in a wool shop with Elsie downstairs? I'd like to see them pull that one off.

'I'll keep an eye on them this week and we'll see how it goes, shall we? And if you don't think you can manage then Gran says she's happy to come in for the next few Saturday afternoons.'

This is my trump card and now I've played I'm really hoping it's going to work.

'Oh I'm sure I can manage. There's no need for Mary to bother herself; I was only saying we need to be careful. We don't want to attract the wrong element. Some of them are terrible, you know, stealing cars and all sorts.'

'They don't usually want to learn to knit, though, do they, the ones stealing cars? And I think they're a lot rarer than you think, Elsie. Not much of a story for the papers, is it? Nice kids getting on with growing up and annoying their parents. The ones who nick cars make much better headlines.'

She sniffs.

'That Maxine just rang for you, by the way, said could you make it two-thirty today instead of two. I said you'd call her back.'

'Great.'

'I'll put the kettle on.'

I'm really looking forward to seeing Grace, and possibly Jean-Luc, although I didn't like to ask Maxine about it when we spoke. But Jane Johnson said there were crowds of press outside the gates again when she drove past yesterday so they must be pretty sure he's there.

'And the sink in the kitchen isn't draining properly again.'

'Okay, I'll have another go with the plunger.'

How nice. A spot of DIY plumbing before I'm off to Graceland.

There are cars parked all along the verge either side of the gates, and lots of bored-looking men with cameras, but thankfully Tom and Jerry have obviously been off to naughty-dog school and trot three paces behind Bruno as I get out of the car, responding to a series of clicks on a special plastic clicker. I wonder if I should get one for Martin to try on Trevor.

Maxine comes out of one of the side doors and takes me round to Grace.

'She's in the garden. Isn't the weather great? It's like being in the South of France. I bet you're taking your kids to the beach every day, aren't you?'

'Pretty much. Actually, we're having a birthday picnic on the beach this Sunday. From around six, if you fancy it.'

'Can I let you know?'

'Of course.'

'Maybe Bruno and I could come, if that would be okay. I think Grace will probably be busy.'

'I'd love that.'

'At least you won't have press abseiling down the cliffs trying to get shots of Jean-Luc'

'Oh, right. He's here then?'

'Oh yes, he's definitely here.'

The kitchen garden is helpfully surrounded by an old wall that shields people from long lenses. It's immaculate, with beds of flowers and vegetables mixed in with fruit canes, and what look like bunches of fledgling grapes hanging down from the vines over the huge wooden table. I've got no idea how many gardeners work here. They've got a contract with some big firm, I think, but there must be hordes of them to keep it looking this stunning.

Lily's having a lovely time in her paddling pool under a cream-linen awning, with Meg sprinkling water onto her from a baby watering can. Grace is lounging on a wooden steamer chair with cream cushions, wearing jeans and a tiny white T-shirt.

'Water or juice, Jo?'

'Water, thanks, Grace.'

'We're learning to ride for the film, so we've got horses in the stables now. Very Country Life, don't you think?'

'Very.'

Maxine hands me a glass of water, and nods towards the gate at the far end of the garden, where a vision in a billowing white shirt and jodhpurs is walking towards us. Dear God, I'm glad I'm sitting down. He's absolutely gorgeous. And he's even managing to look good in jodhpurs, which isn't easy.

'Did Sartre do a lot of horse riding then?'

'Sorry?'

He's getting nearer. Good God, if Jean-Paul Sartre had looked like that we'd all be existentialists.

Maxine smiles.

'No, Jean-Luc's doing Professor Emelius Browne in Bedknobs, Jo. They're looking for a big American name for Sartre.'

'Oh, right. I don't remember them riding horses in Bedknobs and Broomsticks.'

Grace smiles, one of her Diva smiles.

'They didn't. But there's all sorts of new stuff in the script. And trust me, when you see him on a horse you'll be glad there is.'

Maxine pours Jean-Luc a glass of water, as he leans down and kisses Grace on the cheek, and brushes a curl of hair from her face.

'Good ride, darling?'

'Yes, but it is so hot, I must change. I think I will swim. Do you need anything?'

His accent is divine. Do you need anyzing? Oh yes, I think we probably do.

'No thanks. I might join you later. Ask Sam for anything you want.'

He kisses her again and wanders back across the path towards the house.

Maxine sighs, which makes Grace laugh.

'The read-throughs have been great so far, brilliant for chemistry, Angela Lansbury, eat your heart out. Although they're getting him a voice coach so he'll probably end up sounding like bloody Hugh Grant.'

Maxine's collecting up plates and putting them on a tray.

'Somehow I don't think that's going to matter.'

'Probably not. Is she getting fed up, Meg?'

Lily is busy throwing plastic boats out of her paddling pool.

'A bit. Shall I take her in now?'

'Please. And Max, ask Sam to bring us out some more juice, and ice, would you?'

'Sure.'

Sam arrives with a jug of juice, and a plate of fruit.

'Thanks, Sam. Is he in the pool?'

'Yes. And he wants a coffee. Shall I go for decaff?'

'Please.'

He smiles, and walks back towards the house.

'I'm cutting down on his caffeine, slows him down; otherwise it's just too exhausting. So, what do you think of the garden?'

'It's fabulous. You're a very lucky woman.'

'Lucky? I worked bloody hard for all of this.'

'Sorry.'

'I was joking. Jesus, why doesn't anyone ever think I'm joking? Although getting them to cast Jean-Luc was lucky, I'll admit that. Stroke of genius, actually.'

'So is he French, in the film, I mean?'

'Kind of. He's more heroic than in the old version, ex-Army, half-French, evacuated from Dunkirk. And then I meet him and he forgets all about the Resistance.'

'I bet.'

'We start shooting in a couple of weeks. Has Maxine given you the dates?'

'Yes. I'm really looking forward to it.'

'They want me to knit, in the film. Did she say? So we've said you'll come up with something suitably wartime. They all knitted socks, didn't they?'

'Yes, or balaclavas. My gran's got loads of vintage patterns. I'll bring some over if you like.'

'Sure. They'll pay you, for research. Max has already sorted it.'

'Really? That would be great, if you're sure.'

'Talk to Max, she's got the details. Fuck, who's that?'

The phone is ringing on the table.

'Fine, put him through. Hi, Ed ... because I don't want to. I'm having a quiet English summer. If I wanted to be in fucking LA, that's where I'd be. Okay, but bring them down here. Sam can do a lunch or something.'

She puts the phone down.

'They're up to serious money now.'

'What for?'

'A picture of me and Jean-Luc. Triple if we're shagging. Bastards. Ed's on the case, so we'll do a dinner in London, or Paris maybe. Max is sorting it out now.'

'Don't you mind?'

'Part of the job, darling.'

'I suppose so, but '

'There's no but. It's the job you do it, or you don't. But you can't whine about it. You can sue them if they cross the line, but the rest of it is how you earn your money.'

'Cross the line?'

'If they go after your family.'

'Right.'

'I finished Lily's cardigan, by the way, the wrapover one, and she loves it. I thought I'd make her another one, in that olive green you were showing me. Was that cashmere?'

'Cashmere and silk.'