'Okay, and I want to make something for Max, for her birthday. There's a cardigan in that book you left me that's perfect for her. I've marked the page tell me the colours and you can get that for me as well. I want to customise it, though the sleeves are awful ... Fuck, it's hot out here. Let's go in.'

'When's her birthday? I'd like to get her something too.'

'Next month sometime, but don't knit her anything. I want mine to be the star gift.'

'Of course.'

She smiles.

'You could get her a jigsaw. She loves them.'

'Really?'

'When Sam and I want to annoy her we hide a couple of pieces. It drives her crazy. She's quite obsessional; has to be, doing her job. She's always putting things in straight lines, and rearranging flowers. If you ever need another assistant in your shop, go for someone who's bossy and likes everything neat.'

'I've already got one of those, thanks. I don't think I could handle two.'

'Do you fancy a swim?'

'No, thanks. I haven't brought my costume.'

And even if I had I'd pay serious money rather than appear in front of her and Jean-Luc wearing it.

'Sure?'

'Yes, but thanks.'

'Pick up the book before you go, and call me about the colours. Thanks, Jo. Lovely to see you.' She heads towards the pool.

I'm looking through Gran's collection of vintage knitting patterns on Saturday, waiting for her to arrive to look after the boys so I can go into the shop for Olivia's first knitting group. There seem to be lots of wartime patterns for balaclavas and gloves, and a rather fetching child's vest with matching body belt, presumably for keeping your pocket money safe. Gran says wool was rationed for ages, and used to come in skeins rather than balls, so we'll have to get that right for the film, and she remembers making Aran socks for sailors as well as scarves and gloves, and she and Betty knitted themselves swimming costumes, only they tended to sag rather dramatically the minute you got in the sea, which must have been a worry. Only since most of the beach was covered in barbed wire, with the Home Guard marching up and down and shouting at anyone who tried to have a paddle, it probably didn't really matter how baggy your costume went.

Lots of the pattern booklets seem to have been given out free when you bought the wool, although there are some baby-clothes ones which cost 3d, and a few American ones for glamorous dresses and jumpers; since wool wasn't rationed there the colours are much more varied, and I'm rather drawn to a bed jacket with ruffles. I wonder what the boys would say if I appeared at the breakfast table wearing a jacket with white lace frills over my nightie: nothing terribly polite, probably. I think the perfect choice for Grace in the film will be air-force blue wool for a scarf, or maybe a balaclava.

I'm sorting out a few possible colours when Gran arrives, with a cake for tea.

'You look tired, pet. I'll just go and say hello to the boys, shall I? Put the kettle on.'

I'm feeling completely knackered, actually: I didn't sleep very well due to a combination of the baby twirling about for half the night, and a rather rude dream involving Jean-Luc, who somehow morphed into Nick at a crucial moment, which had me waking up with quite a start, and then staring into the darkness for ages having a panic attack about exactly how I'm going to do everything. And then just as I got back to sleep Jack came in all shaky because he'd had his dream where he can't find me and he's in a boat that's slowly sinking. He hasn't had it for months, but I think Gran going on about the baby's room yesterday unsettled him.

Reg arrives while we're drinking our tea, with some wallpaper samples: Gran's sent him to B & Q with strict instructions to bring back a nice range of colours and patterns. Oh God.

'We need to get a move on, pet. You want everything sorted before the baby arrives.'

'Yes, but we've got until October. There's no need to worry about it right now.'

'I've got one of those mobile things, by the way. I meant to tell you.'

'I thought you used Reg's.'

She tuts.

'For over the cot. It plays a tune, with little rabbits. It's ever so sweet, isn't it, Reg?'

He nods. Actually, I think he's quietly excited too.

'Amazing what they can do now. You just press a button and it plays a tune, and Martin says he'll help me with the floor. Messy job that, but he's got a sander so it won't take us long. We thought we'd sand and then seal it, and then we thought a white wax, soften them down a bit, if you're sure you don't want a carpet?'

'That sounds lovely, Reg, but '

Gran puts her cup down.

'And Tina from the hairdresser's was telling me about those baby showering things they have now, so she's organising one with Elsie. They were thinking about one of your Thursday nights. Isn't that nice? Only I think they want to surprise you, but I know what you're like with surprises so I thought I'd better warn you.'

Right, so that's floorboards, painting and wallpapering, and a surprise baby shower: nice and low-key then, just how I want it.

'I don't want a fuss, Gran it only makes me nervous.'

'No pet, what'll make you nervous is when you come to your senses in a few weeks' time and realise you've got nothing ready.'

'I've knitted a blanket.'

'I know, pet, and it's lovely.'

'I'm not in denial or anything, Gran, but I've done this before, you know, and they never go in their cots for the first few weeks anyway. All you really need is a Moses basket and a car seat.'

She looks stricken.

'Car seat. I never thought of that.'

'Gran, it'll be fine. Please. I'd love it if you want to do the room, but it'll be okay if we haven't got every single thing ready.'

Reg puts his arm on Gran's shoulder.

'She's probably right, Mary.'

'And Gran?'

'Yes, pet?'

'If you could help me sort out the boys' rooms too, particularly Jack's, maybe we could do a bit of painting for them as well so they don't feel left out.'

'That's a lovely idea.'

She's off, getting the boys in.

'Me and your mum and your Grandad Reg are talking about painting your bedrooms. What colours would you like?'

Jack looks worried.

'I don't know. Mum, what colour should I have?'

'What about blue and silver like Marco's?'

'Yes, please. Can I have moons and stars on my ceiling too?'

Gran nods.

'And before you start, madam, you're not climbing up any ladders.'

'All right, Gran.'

Archie's hopping.

'And I can have Superheroes, can't I, Mum? Or sharks. I quite like sharks.'

Shark wallpaper. How relaxing.

Reg is making a list. Me and my big mouth.

Olivia's tidying upstairs and putting out glasses when I get to the shop.

'Everyone's bringing a drink.'

Oh God, maybe Elsie was right.

'We couldn't decide on water or Cokes and stuff, so everyone's bringing their own. Are there any more spare needles?'

'In that box on the top shelf.'

'Elsie was quite cross when she arrived.'

'She'll be fine.'

'And Lady Denby's been in. She says she'll be back later.'

'Okay.'

'Oliver Benson and Matt Lewis might come too, only I've told them they've got to knit. It's all right if boys come too, isn't it?'

Teenage boys. I wasn't really counting on that. Some of them are huge, at least the ones I see getting off the bus, with their ties off and their shirts untucked, busy flirting or having mock fights with their massive backpacks slung over one shoulder.

'Sure.'

'Oliver really fancies Polly, like there's any hope we'd go out with boys in our year. That's so not going to happen. But he's all right, and Mart's quite nice.'

'I'll look forward to meeting them.'

I only hope they're medium-sized boys, because I'm not sure the chairs will stand up to any large teenager activity. If they're anything like Jack and Archie they'll be leaning backwards and rocking, shortly before the chair legs snap.

An hour later Polly and Sophie are busy knitting while Lauren and Gemma are still trying to cast on, and Olivia's showing a girl called Clare how to purl. Oliver and Matt are sitting at the far side of the table, struggling to remember which way to put their wool for a knit stitch. They've given up trying to cast on after Sophie took pity on them and did it for them, and now Oliver's giving Polly the occasional longing look, but she seems oblivious. Poor thing, he's trying ever so hard; when she put some lip gloss on earlier I thought he was going to pass out.

'Excuse me, Mrs Mackenzie.'

'Please call me Jo, Sophie.'

She seems quite pleased with this.

'Is there a loo here, Jo?'

'Straight down the stairs on the landing.'

'Thanks.'

'How's it going, Gemma? Need a hand?'

'Yes, please.'

Oliver puts his knitting down.

'Me too. Jo.'

Polly glances at him, and he reddens.

I help Gemma pick up a dropped stitch and then move round to Oliver.

'You're getting the hang of this really quickly.'

He smiles.

'It's quite good, when you get going. I might make something for my mum, for her birthday, a scarf or something. Do you think she'd like that?'

Everyone smiles.

'I'm sure she would.'

Polly takes a sip from her bottle of water.

'I'll help you choose the right colours and stuff if you like.'

'Great.'

What a triumph; he's thrilled, and looks so pleased I'm tempted to give him a hug. It must be tricky being a boy surrounded by such sophisticated girls with their shiny hair and lip gloss. They seem much more confident than I remember being at that age, and I'm not sure many of the boys I knew would have been able to handle spending the afternoon knitting.

Matt looks at Gemma and grins, which seems to fluster her.

'Would you help me get something for my mum too?'

'Course. What do you want to make?'