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‘Where are my favourite page boys?’ Hebe asks Henrietta.

‘In the fitting room, driving Elizabeth mad,’ Henrietta replies with a broad smile. ‘They’re so excited and wriggly that it’ll be a miracle if we get out of here without her accidentally stabbing one or both of them with a pin.’

At that moment, my six-year-old twin nephews burst through the curtain at the back of the store, followed by a harassed-looking older woman. They both look absolutely adorable in matching dark-blue suits, with white shirts and dusky-pink ties to match our bridesmaid dresses.

‘Look, Mummy!’ Edward, the slightly shorter one, exclaims. ‘Do you think we look smart? Elizabeth says we do.’

‘You look just perfect,’ Henrietta assures them. ‘What do you think, Hebe?’

‘Gorgeous,’ Hebe agrees. ‘I’m the luckiest auntie in the world, because I’ll have the best-looking page boys at my wedding.’

‘My shoes are pinching, Mummy,’ Frederick, the other twin, complains, pointing at the black patent leather lace-ups on his feet.

‘They will a bit, because they’re so new,’ Henrietta explains. ‘But you can wear them around the house this week and they’ll be comfy by the weekend.’

‘Can we wear them to school?’ Edward asks. ‘I want to show them off to my friends.’

‘Absolutely not!’ she tells him. ‘Patent leather does not mix with playgrounds.’

‘What’s happened to your hair, Auntie Athena?’ Frederick asks. He’s obviously lost interest in the shoe argument and is now staring at me. ‘Did you get really old suddenly?’

‘Frederick!’ Henrietta scolds. ‘How many times must I tell you that it’s rude to make comments about the way people look?’ She turns to my mother. ‘He asked a woman in the supermarket when her baby was coming the other day. She wasn’t pregnant, just on the large side. It was mortifying.’

Frederick is evidently unwilling to let the subject drop. ‘But Mummy,’ he continues. ‘This isn’t the same thing as that fat woman at all. Auntie Athena’s hair is grey, like an old person’s.’

Henrietta sighs and looks at me. ‘He’s got a point. What happened?’

I can see my mother start to open her mouth, doubtless to repeat to the world at large how irresponsible I am, but I just manage to get in before her.

‘I fancied a change of colour,’ I tell her. ‘Do you think it suits me?’

‘I do,’ Andrea chips in, running her hand through her raven-coloured locks. ‘And we’ll be a brilliant contrast to each other, don’t you think?’ She kneels down to face the boys. ‘Maybe we should dye your hair to match,’ she suggests with a wink. ‘One black and one white, like us.’

‘Boys don’t use hair dye,’ Edward shoots back.

‘Yes, they do,’ Frederick contradicts him. ‘What about Mr Richards, at school?’

‘That’s not hair dye, that’s a wig,’ Edward tells him defiantly.

‘Maybe he dyes his wig?’ Andrea offers.

‘Why would he do that?’ Edward looks confused. ‘He could just buy one that was already the colour that he liked.’

‘I think we’re getting off topic,’ Henrietta cuts in before the conversation can get completely out of hand. ‘Nobody is going to dye your hair, boys. Andrea was just joking, and please tell me neither of you have said anything to Mr Richards about his wig, if it even is one.’

‘It’s definitely a wig,’ Frederick replies. ‘That’s why everyone calls him Wiggy Richards.’

‘What do we think about the fit of the suits?’ Elizabeth asks as Henrietta rolls her eyes at my mother in a long-suffering way. ‘I’ve left plenty of room in the legs and shoulders, so they don’t feel restricted, but hopefully without making them look baggy.’

‘Stand still, boys,’ Henrietta commands and, to my surprise, they comply instantly.

‘Yes, I think that’s perfect, thank you, Elizabeth,’ Hebe says after examining each twin carefully.

‘Excellent.’ Elizabeth is almost sagging with relief as she turns to the twins. ‘I’m going to ask your mummy to help you out of the suits, and remember to be careful, like I told you.’

‘Because of the pins,’ Edward says to her.

‘Exactly.’