I found my great-grandmother running a busy household in Lancashire. With her beautiful long silver hair, smooth skin and a perfect set of teeth, she looked great for someone who had died in 1967. I never expected to meet her at all, but here she was caring for a complete generation of my third cousins who ranged in age from a podgy baby to a teenager triumphant at having just passed her driving test. My great-grandmother told me all about her early life as the eldest of fifteen siblings and of Willow, her favourite brother. I admired the antique pictures on the wall of her modern house and wondered if I might eventually inherit any of them.

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KT would kill me. I’d accidentally leaked out the news of her £6 million lottery win.