The bell rang and she went to let in the reporter from the local TV station, a young woman called Stacey, and the photographer, who prowled around looking for angles.

‘I just can’t get over anyone being married sixty years,’ Stacey said, awed.

‘It was different in their day,’ Pippa said. ‘People married for life. And I think Grandpa was courting her for a long time so he wasn’t going to let her go easily.’

‘Long courtship,’ Stacey muttered, making notes. ‘Good, that gives me something to go on.’

At last everyone was there: Mark and Dee’s children and grandchildren, cousins, in-laws, a representative from the local hospital where Dee had once worked.

‘Quiet everybody! They’re coming.’

The photographer got into position at the bottom of the stairs, ready to capture the stars of the evening as they appeared above: Mr and Mrs Sellon, Mark and Deirdre, known to everyone as Dee. They were in their eighties, white-haired, thin and frail-looking, but holding themselves erect, with smiling eyes.

They descended the stairs arm in arm, seeming to support each other equally, until the moment Dee stumbled and clung to her husband for safety.

‘Careful, my love,’ he said, guiding her to a chair. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing; I tripped on the carpet.’

‘Are you sure you’re all right? You’d better have a cup of tea.’

‘Tea?’ she said in mock outrage. ‘Today? I want a good strong sherry.’

He hurried to get her a glass and Lilian regarded them with delight.

‘Look how he dances attendance on her,’ she sighed. ‘After all these years. So many husbands become indifferent.’

‘I’ve never known Grandpa indifferent,’ Pippa said. ‘In fact, he sometimes smothers Gran with his concern. He’s so scared that she’ll go first.’

‘You know the saying. There’s always one who loves and one who lets themselves be loved,’ Lilian reminded her. ‘No prizes for guessing which is which with those two.’