Things have settled down at the manor by the time we're back. There's a low and jolly buzz about the house, but it's coming from upstairs; when Magnus holds the door open, the incoming wind makes a whistling noise as it blows along the empty hallway.

Once the door's shut behind us, Jono's quick to make his exit, announcing that he's got a couple of calls to make and he'll be back down before dinner, but not before pressing a quick kiss to Kitty's cheek. Her lips tighten into a frown as he does, and I'm certain that under her bug-eyed sunglasses she's rolling her eyes.

"Right well, please make sure you wash up before you come down. That study absolutely reeks of mildew." She's already rounded the corner into the kitchen before Jono can respond, but his chuckle is resigned to the point of amusement as he jogs up the marble stairs.

"Yes, darling." With a grimace, and a 'good luck', Pip trots up the stairs too, to his room, leaving me alone with the ice queen. She flashes me one of her thousand smiles - this one's moulded and self-assured – and when she turns and heads down towards the kitchen, Louboutin's clicking beneath her, I get the feeling that I'm supposed to follow behind her. It's what everyone else does when she moves.

The girl pip pointed out as his sister Nelly is there, leaning against the island, working her way through a piece of cheesecake, its face crumbly and golden brown with some caramel-coloured sauce drizzled over it in a sticky zig zag. It looks and smells so good that I think I feel my mouth moisten on sight. Shit, have I eaten today?

"Now, Nell-nell," Kitty tuts, her voice taking on a low, babyish intonation, "supper's not far off – are we sure we need to be snacking?"

She's doing that thing Babe's mum does, saying 'we' when she means 'you', except with her faux comforting voice and insulting implication, she comes off as a lot more disparaging.

When Nelly's apathetic gaze meets her mother's disapproving one, her smile is sarcastic, and obviously so.

"Hiya, Mummy. Oh, my afternoon? It's been splendid, thanks, and yours?"

I mask my half-escaped chuckle with a little cough, but luckily Kitty's displeasure is the loudest thing in the white-tiled room.

"Oh, darling, you know I hate when you speak like such a shrew – I'm only trying to help. We can only get away with 'baby weight' for so long, Nells; I mean, the twins are almost 3."

By 'shrew', Nelly's already stuck her fork back into the buttery mound, and once Kitty's finished with what I sense is a regular tirade, Nelly looks up at me with narrow eyes.

"You're Auby's new girlfriend." Nothing about her expression implied that she was asking a question, but an expectant silence follows, and I feel obliged to fill it with a nod and a nervous clearing of my throat,

"Um, yeah, I'm Evangeline."

"Nelly," she pats an irritated hand on her chest and her stiff smile reappears, except it's slightly less spiteful this time, "care for some cheesecake, Evangeline? It's honeycomb."

Honeycomb's my favourite! ...Although I don't know if that'd be prudent to say at this moment.

As dramatic as it sounds, under both Kitty and Nelly's eyes I feel like I'm trapped in a chunk of frost, with the ice queens on either side. If I take Kitty's side, I don't get much; however, if I take Nelly's...

"I-I'd love a bit," I say shyly, approaching the glass dome of cheesecake on the island, "thank you."

I extend a smile to Ana too, whose hard, unrecognised efforts no doubt went into the gorgeous dessert. She's stood, in the corner, as awkwardly as I was, unsure of whether or not she's supposed to leave the room for the tiff, but when I smile at her, appreciation is clear in her big brown eyes.

"A bit..." Nelly says, and she looks at me with an eyebrow raised an amusement sparkling in her gaze. She says with a malice of sorts, like a joke that I don't quite understand.

Kitty's back is turned as she pours herself a glass of something, but even without seeing her face, her remark and the sharp breath exhaled through her nose are clarity enough.

"Evangeline's mother's regional..." She turns and sips from the clear glass in one fluid motion, catching Nelly's eye with the same amused look, "Northern Irish."

"Ah."

When I finally catch on, the realisation feels like a gut punch – she's mocking the way I speak.

From the moment I met Freddie I knew I didn't speak like a Macklin would. Eric's accent is a mingling of a handful of sounds – general Londoner, slightly posh, but not excessively so for an English teaching assistant. His family, however, say things like 'chap', and 'golly', and never ever drop a 't' like I just did. I suppose that's what Nelly found so amusing.

"I was born here." I find myself blurting before I have the chance to ask myself what exactly I'm saying.

"I was born in Aldwych, I mean." As soon as I've said it, I hate myself for it. I don't need justify the way I speak to anybody. I'm proud to be 'common'. I'm proud to be half-Irish. I am my mother's daughter through and through, and I am proud. I don't say any of that part out loud, though. It's shame-affirmingly silent as the knife glides through the cheesecake.

"Oh, Mummy, isn't that where that brasserie is? The one with the really good duck confit?"

"God, of course! I've got to call Jeremy and get us another private breakfast – Nel, that Eggs Arlington, my goodness."

And just like that, the stomach-churning moment has passed. It's over so fast I want to butt in and take it back, but they've already moved on to breakfasts and brasseries, and I'm left with my slice of cheesecake, embarrassment and overwhelming urge to phone up Mum and tell her I love her.

I kinda wish something would just swallow me whole or swoop in and save me, and then, at the perfect moment, the sound of barefoot bounds down carpeted marble steps reminds me of Reason 1,036 why I love Eric: he's always there when I need him. Always.

"Mum. Nelly." He comes into the kitchen in dark twill shorts and a silver dog tag, and his skin's lightly tanned in a way that makes him glow, and my Eric looks as though he's just returned from sitting poolside somewhere in North Italy. He nods gallantly towards his mother and sister, my wonderful gentleman, and when our eyes meet, his rose lips curve into an intimate smile,

"My love." He addresses me with the same matter-of-fact tone, and something about his certainty about me, about us, sets off the flutters in my chest and makes me feel light as air and at home all at once. He stops behind me, sliding his arms around my middle, his hands clinging to my abs as he kisses my cheek and breathes me in. When he calls me his love, his voice is warm, and genuine, without malicious amusement or ulterior motive.

"Hi." I giggle quietly, his nose tickling my neck. I like, no, sod that, I love how unashamed he is; I love how even those I can feel the blush rising to my cheeks, I feel so...right. We feel so right.

"I've missed you." Rich-voiced, he whispers it right in my ear before standing upright to address his mother, though his hands never leave my body. "Decided to abduct my girlfriend last minute, Mum?"

"Abduction is such an ugly notion, Auby, not to mention an incorrect one. I'd say impromptu inveigling."

"Subterfuge?" Eric fires back in an instant. Kitty ponders before rewording.

"An... unpremeditated introduction."

"A misrepresented inquisition."

"Are you calling me Janus-faced, Auby?"

"Perhaps if Janus had more faces."

"And to think, for all my faces, you inherited your father's. What a shame."

I gasp instinctively, a little horrified, but a quick glance at everyone's faces makes me reassess the situation: Kitty looks tickled at best, and Eric's wearing a charming, challenging smirk, and oh, shit, they're kidding. Eric looks down at me with a grin and wink. Christ, now I know why he's so witty and quick. Having Kitty as a mother would sharpen anybody's senses – I'm out of breath from just watching.

Without so much as a clearing his throat, Eric moves from one mode of dreamy to another, stooping to inhale the sweet caramel scent of the cake,

"Mm, that smells good..."

"Doesn't it? Ana made it," I smile, "d'you want some of mine?" I slide my plate to my left so that he can reach it, but he slides it back in front of me, wrapping his arms more firmly around my mid-section, and resting his chin on my shoulder.

"I'm afraid my hands are occupied. You wouldn't mind, would you?" He pouts waggishly, glancing between the plate and me. I laugh and roll my eyes, separating a little angular piece of the slice with my fork.

"Evie, that's minute!"

"Ah! Beggars can't be choosers."

He tuts playfully and opens his mouth wide, letting me fly the fork in, and it takes all my restraint to not make a stupid aeroplane noise as I do. He bites down hard on it, squeezing my sides at the same time, making me squeal slightly. In my periphery, Nelly rolls her eyes, but now that Eric's here, I couldn't care less.

"Mm!" He hums with sparkling eyes. "Ana, this is absolutely amazing! Evie, my love, you have to try this."

Ana blushes, and her sweet, shy eyes drop in modesty. Eric reaches his hands out in front of me, taking my fork to feed me a piece, as though it wasn't my slice already. The thought makes me chuckle as he moves the loaded fork carefully into my mouth, watching my lips intently. When my eyes widen in delight, his do too, and he nods his head,

"See!"

"Eric!" I gasp. "This is Biscoff!"

"Christ, I thought I recognised the taste – are we going to have to hide this from you now, Evie?" He teases.

"What's Biscoff?" Nelly asks, wielding her amazing ability to look wholly disinterested by any and all things as she inspects the fork that she's licking clean.

Eric chuckles before he starts to explain, and my heart flutters in pride; we're a couple, a real one, with things and in-jokes and ways of living – a world that's ours, away from here.

"They're these Belgian biscuits, Evie absolutely adores them." The squeeze he gives me feels subconscious, and the thought that the familiarity of our world is somewhere deep in his innermost self makes me grin and lean back into him. Kitty's watching, too – intently – and I hope she can see it: we're our own universe. "She's utterly obsessed – makes us get them every time we pass a bloody Sainsbury's."

Stabbing his bicep with the blunt end of my fork, I roll my eyes,

"You're not doing them justice! They're the most delicious things ever – caramel biscuits with cinnamon and nutmeg and all these other spices – and the taste is just, ugh, heavenly."

Eric laughs behind me as I carve another piece of the cheesecake off, and let it melt on my tongue with closed eyes.

"Need I be jealous, my love?"

"No use – me and this cheesecake have too torrid a love affair."

"Is that what this is, Ana?" Kitty remarks, and the sharpness of her voice cuts through the playful atmosphere. She's stern-faced as she motions to the dome of cheesecake with a limp, offended finger, with her glower trained on Ana.

"M-ma'am?" Ana's face screws in genuine confusion, as lost as everyone else watching. Except, Nelly. Nelly just looks bored.

"Don't stutter. Did. You. Buy. This. Cake. From Sainsbury's?" Each word is tight and terse, her lips barely parting as she speaks them.

Ana's lips quiver, but she stills them before she answers, careful not to stutter,

"Only the biscuit on the bottom, ma'am. I use it for the base – it's easier that way, ma'am."

The way she calls her 'ma'am' doesn't sit right with me. With Eric and me, she's so free, so smiley, but she can barely meet Kitty's eyes. Why can't she meet Kitty's eyes?

Kitty's closed fists are on the table, and her ice queen eyes are shooting glaciers at the little woman.

"Ana," she begins, and Ana clings to the tip of her broom, "I'd like to make a suggestion." Her eyes narrow, homing in like those of an assassin, and I have a feeling that whatever she says next will be far from a mere 'suggestion'.

"If you plan to continue making desserts that I did not ask you to make, I strongly suggest that you have the reverence to not serve us lowbrow filth." Her countenance changes again, fast as a lightning bolt, and now her gaze is on me, and her smile is a mean-eyed smirk.

"Evangeline is our guest..." As fast the lightning flashes, it disappears, and with villainous volatility, her glare resurfaces when she whips her gaze back to Ana, "and our guest says it tastes like something out of Sainsbury's. Do you think that's acceptable, Ana?"

Oh my God. This is my fault. I have to say something.

"Oh, no, Kitty, I didn't mean to insult the cake, I just meant it tastes like one of my favourite foods from home; this is delicious, really, I think Ana did a wond– " It all comes out at once, in a hurried, confused explanation, until the she shoots me the glower, and it shuts me right up. Eric's hands move from my stomach to my shoulders and tighten, and his grip is one of restraint, rigid like he's holding himself back.

"Mum, that's quite enough." He says, his clipped tone interrupting her before she can say another word to Ana. She moves slowly and resentfully, standing upright to look at her son with owl eyes. Eric's not afraid.

"Ana's made this wonderful cake. Everyone's enjoying it. Can we let everyone enjoy it?" He might look most like his father, but his stern face is a copy-and-paste of his mother's; just like her, he asks the question with the certainty of an instruction. The bass in his voice sends chills through me, the good kind and the bad kind all at once. I've never seen him so firm. I suppose, he's never had to be. I've seen him grab a room with his smile and wit, but never like this – never so... powerful.

I can only assume Kitty feels it too; she scoffs, disgruntled, and her dark tresses whip behind her when she turns and storms off. The clacking of those Louboutin's is starting to become my least favourite sound.

I cast a sympathetic look Ana's way, and my heart sinks a little when she shrugs with glazed eyes, like it's nothing she hasn't seen before.

With her fork between her teeth as she reaches past Eric and I, Nelly garbles like nothing's the matter at all,

"Second helpings, anybody?"