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I’m at Fenwick department store on the High Street. It was recommended by a well-dressed woman in town, and she was right – there are lots of lovely things here.

I take a net basket from a young assistant and click around the homeware department, imagining how much better I’ll feel when Elizabeth has some lovely ornaments on display.

Most likely, I’ll get no thanks for it. All Elizabeth ever does is criticise.

‘I was in your shadow,’ she says. ‘You made me feel invisible.’

Perhaps now she realises how difficult it is being a parent.

Elizabeth never excelled at school. Didn’t tryhard enough. In truth, she never applied herself. Tom was top of his class in London, so maybe my grandson will be the one to make me proud.

As I’m examining a china cat with a lace collar, a smiling grey-haired assistant approaches. She has dreadful makeup. Eyebrows far too heavy.

‘Oh, that’s one of my favourites,’ she says. ‘It looks just like my cat, Sherbet.’

I slide the cat back on the shelf.

‘Shopping for something in particular?’ the assistant asks.

I notice her neck, loose with wrinkles.

‘Things for my daughter,’ I say, with a grand smile. ‘She’s just moved into a new home.’

‘Oh, that’s nice,’ says the assistant. ‘Is she married or single?’

I pull my smile tight. ‘Married,’ I say. ‘Her husband is a champion snowboarder. And she has a little boy. Tom. My grandson. He’s a bonny little lad – very well-behaved. A model pupil at school.’

‘Not like my grandson then,’ laughs the assistant. ‘He’s a terror, but we love him all the same.’

I smile kindly. ‘Maybe it’s the school that’s the problem. My grandson goes to Steelfield School. They’re really on top of discipline there. The headmaster is very ambitious.’

The assistant shudders. ‘I’ve heard about that place. Kids quiet as mice. Teachers so perfect they’re like robots.’ She glances at me then. ‘Sorry to speak out of turn, it’s just what I’ve heard.’

‘Oh, I think you can tell a lot from the inspector reports,’ I counter. ‘The official people who assess the schools know what they’re talking about.’

‘I always think the most important thing is that the kids are happy.’

I wander towards a colourful collection of cookware, but it’s far too bright. I’ll never understand this modern trend for childish, primary colours. What happened to elegant florals?

The assistant is tailing me. ‘How old is your grandson?’ she asks.

I catch a glimpse of myself in a hanging frying pan. I look a good fifteen years younger than this assistant, although I’d guess we’re around the same age.

‘Eleven,’ I say. ‘He’s very bright. The teachers think he’ll pass the grammar school exam.’

‘Oh, that’ll be good,’ says the assistant, not really understanding.

‘My daughter Elizabeth went to grammar school,’ I say. ‘She passed her exams and studied at Cambridge University. She’s a qualified doctor now.’

‘Well done her,’ says the assistant. ‘Does she work part-time? Now she has her little boy?’

‘Oh, she doesn’t work,’ I say. ‘Her husband takes care of everything. She doesn’t have to lift a finger. She even has a cleaner.’

‘Wish I had one of those,’ says the assistant, winking. ‘In my house, I’m the cleaner.’

‘Elizabeth is a wonderful daughter,’ I say. ‘We’re best friends. She’s always inviting me over. Or taking me to lunch.’

‘Sounds lovely,’ says the assistant, with a kind smile.