I’d thought her being a temporary teaching assistant at seventeen was challenge enough – and now she was school nurse for the afternoon. We’d gently crossed swords at breakfast.

‘It’s just a little young to have that much responsibility.’

‘It’s a primary school sports day, Mum, not a motorway crash.’

But now her shift was almost over – with no accidents at all – and soon she’d be out to join us. I was sure she’d be itching to leave that small stuffy medical room stuck at the top of the school.

I’d noticed at breakfast that she was wearing that red frou-frou skirt with a skimpy top and I’d told her it didn’t really look very professional but when did Jenny ever listen to my advice on clothes?

‘Just count your lucky stars I’m not in bumsters.’

‘You mean the jeans that hang around boys’ bottoms?’

‘Yup.’

‘I always want to go and give them a hitch up.’

She bursts out laughing.

And her long legs do look rather wonderful under the too-short, gauzy skirt and despite myself I feel a little proud. Though she got her long legs from you.

On the playing field, Maisie arrived, her blue eyes sparkling, her face one large smile. Some people dismiss her as a jolly-hockey-sticks Sloane in FUN shirts (long sleeves a different pattern to the rest) but most of us love her.

‘Gracie,’ she said, giving me a hug. ‘I’ve come to give Rowena a lift home. She texted me a little while ago, said the tubes were up the spout. So Chauffeur-Mum to the fore!’

‘She’s getting the medals,’ I told her. ‘Adam’s gone with her to get his cake. They should be back any minute.’

She smiled. ‘What kind of cake this year?’

‘An M &S chocolate tray-bake. Addie dug out a trench with a teaspoon and we took off all the Maltesers and replaced them with soldiers. It’s a World War One cake. Which is violent but fits with key stage two, so I don’t think anyone’ll mind.’