Eleanor admired the shiny green back of the big-eyed frog. It sat quietly in her lap blinking up at her. A zephyr of spring breeze ruffling the reeds. She sighed. It really was time she got out of the pond.

The meal was exquisite. The salmon had been a good choice; it was light and flaky and melted in the mouth. And the tender salad leaves had come fresh from the garden. The guests were impressed, she could see, and she smiled a satisfied smile. As she carried in the tray of individual chocolate mousses, garnished with glistening mint leaves, she looked up and glanced at Esmeralda. The smile froze on her face. She had just remembered that Esmeralda always, when presented with a chocolate dessert, turned the topic of conversation round to her bowel movements.

It was a glorious day for September. Light fluffy clouds drifted across the wide blue sky and the gulls swooped gracefully over the sea. Sylvia stepped out with a light step and a sunny smile. A smile of anticipated pleasure. A nice herring for tea. Sylvia liked a nice herring. She set out boldly and confidently along the sea front towards the fishmongers but the pavement was full of mischief and tumbled her, hurting her shoulder. She went back to the house and told her sister all about it. Her sister listened with concern; they were neither of them young. ‘Did you get the herring?’ she said.

Arthur placed the bone china cup of afternoon tea on the rosewood table. A fine patina of dust lit by the setting sun as it fell through the window made him tut quietly to himself. Another job for tomorrow. He reached gently across to pat his wife’s hand. He had learnt to be more careful when doing this since her finger had fallen off.

Alicia carried the bottle of lemonade through to the kitchen. She placed it next to the bottle of lemonade that had been delivered the week before. As she straightened up she realised that very soon it would be necessary to have another shelf for them. There were two dozen bottles now on this shelf alone. She didn’t like lemonade but didn’t like to tell the milkman to stop delivering.