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stiff.
    Sprinkle cornflour, ½ teaspoon vanilla, and vinegar, and fold in.
    Spread the meringue on an oiled or silicone baking sheet, in a circular shape. Make a slight well in the middle.
    Bake the meringue for around 1 hour and 15 minutes, until a pale eggshell colour.
    Turn oven off, but DO NOT REMOVE MERINGUE! Open the oven door very slightly to allow the meringue to cool in the oven. Expect cracks.
    Plate the meringue before serving.
    Whip cream with remaining ½ teaspoon of vanilla until peaks form.
    Spread cream over cool meringue and cover with fresh fruit.

Five
     
    ‘I told him,’ Clemmie whispers in her mother’s ear as she reaches up to kiss her cheek. ‘Mum, this is Luke.’
    Grace steps back to greet Luke with an extended hand and an approving smile. He is handsome and sweet, bearded, with the bloom of youth that instantly makes Grace feel old. Too old. She shakes her head to dislodge the thought, pleased that her daughter has such good taste.
    ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Luke.’
    ‘It’s lovely to meet
you
, Mrs Chapman. Are you having a good time?’
    Grace laughs. ‘We just got here, but I’m sure it will be a wonderful evening.’
    ‘Not for Dad,’ Clemmie says, turning to Luke. ‘He detests small talk, but he’ll be fine if everyone is pandering to his every whim.’ The three of them turn their heads to see Ted, surrounded by acolytes, playing up to them, enjoying the adulation.
    ‘See?’ Clemmie says. ‘He’s fine. Give him a drink and he’ll be even happier.’ As they watch, someone comes over and places a glass of Scotch in Ted’s hand. The three of them burst out laughing.
    ‘How’s Ellen?’ Clemmie says, her face suddenly serious. ‘I feel horrible that I haven’t phoned her.’
    ‘She’s refusing to stop working for us,’ Grace says. ‘She has so much on her plate with her poor mother and trying to organize the move, but, bless her heart, she’s still helping us manage the chaos of our lives. Our assistant.’ She turns to Luke, explaining. ‘She just moved to Florida to look after her mother and we haven’t found a replacement yet.’
    Clemmie frowns. ‘Have you advertised on Craigslist?’
    Grace nods. ‘I think we just haven’t been on top of it. I’m going to have to try and find someone soon, though. Your father goes nuts when I forget everything.’
    ‘I still love you, Mum,’ Clemmie says, putting an arm around her mother and squeezing, the two of them tilting their heads together, mutual love and affection flowing between them, making Luke smile.
    ‘Oh dear.’ Grace looks up. ‘Your father needs me. Make sure you come over and talk to us after dinner.’ Blowing them a kiss, she glides over to where Ted is furiously beckoning her, taking a deep breath as she slips into the persona of Grace Chapman, wife of Ted, mother, occasional celebrity-by-association and friend.
    T he dinner is long and arduous. Not that you would ever be able to tell by looking at Grace. Her face is animated and interested. Her eyes sparkle as she makes sure she has conversations with each and every person at the table, excluding no one. This is who you become, she thinks, married to a difficult man. Ted’s moods, his manners are so unpredictable, she has become her name personified, Grace. Gracious. Graceful.
    Grace.
    She has trained herself to consciously compose her features in order to appear happy, whatever her state of mind. She is charming, asking questions, staring deeply into people’s eyes, making them feel as if they are the most important person in the room. It isn’t that she
isn’t
interested, but that she recognized, long ago, how awful it was to be talking to someone, particularly someone you admire, and see their eyes constantly moving, searching for what else is going on, who else they would prefer to be talking to. It may not have been that Ted particularly wanted to be talking to anyone else, but that’s the impression he gives. Grace knows how that