In the post-breakfast kitchen she found herself in danger of reverting to anxious hostess, bustling and uttering inanities, when outside she’d been approaching what was, these days, a much-improved, because of being comfortable with herself, normality.   ‘Stop it’ she told herself, ‘take a deep breath, he’s the same generation as your children, will have a different set of assumptions, NOT ones which my generation would think of, and anyway he’s different.’



‘How do you like…