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really,’ said David. ‘He had a cold on the morning of the assessment and so he only scored “approaching gifted”. I’m thinking of going back and having him reassessed.’
    â€˜It’s two hundred and fifty pounds, darling,’ I pleaded.
    â€˜Yes, but I think it’s worth it, just so that we know where he is in his development and what sort of school and tutors we should be thinking of.’
    Sarah glanced anxiously at her husband, who failed to make any reassuring eye contact. ‘So what is this institute exactly?’
    â€˜Have you not had Cameron assessed yet?’ said Ffion, frowning.
    â€˜It’s the Cambridge Institute for Child Development – I can give you the number,’ I said.
    â€˜Is it in Cambridge?’
    â€˜No, that’s just the name. It’s in Balham. The lady who runs it specializes in testing brighter children,’ I explained. ‘She talks to the child, watches him play and looks at his drawings and then sends you a comprehensive report and grading.’
    â€˜It’s just a posh woman in a house taking lots of money off gullible parents to tell them that their children are clever,’ William sneered.
    â€˜Well, I think it’s vital that parents know how their children are progressing,’ said David. ‘Even if she did get it a bit wrong first time.’
    â€˜She assessed you as “approaching gullible”. If you goback again, she re-grades you as “exceptionally gullible”.’
    â€˜Shut up, William,’ said his wife. She turned back to me. ‘He’s only joking. Don’t let me go without getting the number off you.’
    â€˜And here’s the timpani drum – who’s the big drum, Alfie?’ Alfie didn’t respond.
    â€˜Alfie!’ said David slightly too crossly.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Who does the timpani drum represent?’
    â€˜The hunter,’ he said sulkily.
    â€˜Er, Philip?’ called William, a little mischievously. ‘I think the herbivores are forgetting their place in the food chain again’ – and he gave a mock-concerned nod in the direction of the prehistoric landscape of our coffee table, where a Roman centurion came swooping in from the arm of the sofa and attacked with a sword.
    â€˜It doesn’t matter, Philip, stay outside.’ Ffion bristled.
    â€˜Of course, one shouldn’t stifle their imagination too much,’ shrugged Philip, stamping on his cigarette and returning indoors. ‘He does, of course, know that the dinosaurs were extinct by the time of the Romans … What happened to the dinosaurs, Gwilym?’
    â€˜Their eggs stink!’
    â€˜You see?’ said his father with a proud smile.
    â€˜Would anyone like to listen to Peter and the Wolf again?’ offered David.
    I had met David when we both worked in the City; I was a PA and he worked in banking. By the time we were married he had given up trying to explain exactly what he did. People who had never worked in international finance always struggled to understand how it was possible to ‘buy and sellmoney’. Perhaps David didn’t understand it either; maybe that’s why he got the sack. After that he set himself up as a freelance financial consultant, which he said was the best thing that could ever have happened because working for himself would give him more time to be at home with the children. And he said this as if it was a good thing. Now my husband managed to pull off a scam in which he advised people what to do with their money while taking a large chunk of it off them. We remained sufficiently prosperous for me not to understand all the extra lines of numbers on the National Lottery draw.
    I still worked full time as a PA, but now to three children called Molly, Jamie and Alfie. (No one had told us that the -ie/-y suffix wasn’t actually compulsory.) I organized their diaries, made sure they had the correct