That remark brought a proper laugh, but Nora managed to wind it back down.

“Ah, teenagers: who’d have ‘em, ey?”

Her face fell.

“Sorry, Maz. Didn’t think”

My lover simply smiled.

“Water and bridges, water and bridges. Got him back now, and not letting him go again. Anyway, got his sister to get through it in a few years”

“Swap notes then, love?”

“Indeed! Now, shall we embarrass both of them by joining forces?”

“Oh, indeed, but it’s too hot for popcorn”

I saw my chance, waving at a van from what looked like a local microbrewery, chairs and tables on the grass in front.

“Is it beer o’clock yet, ladies?”

“WINNY! COO-EE!”

A couple of obvious gestures made the point, and we were soon settled by the van, with ice creams for the smallest and cans of cold stuff for the six notional adults. I had waved at our boy.

“Beer, son?”

“Um, LLB, Dad?”

“Gwen?”

Ish twitched, but she was already at his shoulder.

“Could I have the same, please, Mr Rhodes?”

Nora waited till she was settled, then started the rounds.

“Maz and Mike, folks, and this is Winny, and his Mum and Dad, Manfred and Trudi. Gwen you know, and that’s Klaus with your tiny”

I waved at the older woman.

“Happy birthday, I hear!”

“Oh, Mike, not for three months. Just, well, this is when we could fit in the whole family. School holidays, work breaks, you know the thing”

“What do you do?”

“At my age? As little as possible, and the same with the old man there. Winny’s the wage slave”

Gwen’s father shrugged.

“Got two restaurants in Albany, Mike. One French, one Italian”

Maz was looking very confused.

“Gwen said your family’s Austrian”

Winny smiled.

“Eet izza no problem, or maybe, Ah ‘ave ze fass-eel-it-ay avec les accents”

I asked him if he was serious.

“No, mate, but some of my staff play the game. Keeps the tourists happy, ey? Got a pastry shop as well, Dad’s old place. What do you two do?”

I let Maz answer that one, as I was watching the grandparents, in between casting an eye towards the joint offspring, who were in obvious pairs, the littlest swapping licks of their ice creams. ‘Oma’ Trudi looked a little out of place, being the only one of us wearing long sleeves.

“Where are you from, Manfred?”

“oh, you’ve probably never heard of it, Mike. Little village near Innsbruck”

“I might; which one?”

“Place called Fulpmes”

I grinned at him, for once my memories of my first wife not coming with a stab of pain.

“But I do, mate. Went there with my first wife, caught the tram out of Innsbruck, just found a hotel on spec. Place made me laugh”

“How so?”

“Ah, it was the local tavern. Put their prices up at the weekends, for the Germans, they said”

“Ah! That will have been the Dorfkrug”

“I think you’re right”

He turned to his wife, with a slight frown.

“The city, and our village, they’re in a really narrow bit of the country, between Germany and the bit of the Tirol they gave to Italy. At the end of our valley, there is a glacier, with all-year skiing, so the weekends get busy”

I found his detailed explanation a bit odd, so smiled at his wife.

“You’re not from there, then?”

“No. Vienna, we think”

She sighed, looking at her husband, who shrugged, before she continued.

“Friedl here came out with his company, ey? Wood chipping machinery. Jumped ship and set up our bakery. I was in the office, secretary, all the clichés, and went with him. Been in the country a lot, lot longer”

Another shrug, combined with a wince.

“I suppose I was lucky… We looked your family up on the net, so no secrets, ey? I was adopted. Rest of my family…”

She reached down to pull up her left sleeve, just enough for us to see a really bad tattoo: a line of numbers. Oh fuck.

“I don’t like dogs, Mike. We… well, in the end, it was just me. We’d been moved, and I’ve read about it, how they wanted us kept ahead of the Russians, so it was the Brits who found us. I was so lucky; there were doctors there, two of them were brothers, and they just started collecting the kids, those of us that were left. Took us back to England, and then your lot started shipping orphans out to Australia. That’s me. They found me a family, and they were lovely, real parents, ey? Did the usual girl’s studies, ended up working for this great hunk of spunk here”

A little voice piped up.

“I like dogs. Did your place have a man with an axe?”

Trudi smiled sadly at LC.

“Yes, love. But, well, I think I want to talk about ice cream instead. Do you have a favourite?”

“MINT CHOC CHIP!”

“I like that as well, but my favourite is apple. Do you know if they have any here?”

Our girl was off like a shot, Gwen’s brother trailing in her wake. Trudi turned to me with a much more genuine smile.

“You’ll be treasuring every moment, then, you two?”

Ish called across, “And me”

Nora nodded.

“I am not going to ask what the little girl meant, Maz. My early memories are a bit, well, punctuated. It’s why I say I’m probably from Vienna. Anyway, tell us about the boy. I always say that treasuring them doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to embarrass them”

I did my best, but Nora was ready to add her own toppings.

“So, Mike: what’s this Pom girl of his like?”

“Clara? She’s lovely. Very shy, though”

Gwen giggled.

“Just like Ishy here!”

Maz chuckled at that, adding, “He’s not shy on the footy field. Hang on, darling, just need…”

She held her phone up to show that pro photo of the lad soaring in that college game, and both Trudi and Nora made appreciative noises, but it was Nora who added the little verbal cherry on top.

“My Winny’s got a bit frayed and worn over the years. Could I do a P-X? Part exchange?”

Gwen’s squeal of “Mum!” was painful, but ‘Winny’ was more serious in his response.

“What does she do, Ish?”

“She’s studying to be an English teacher, Mr Horvath”

“Long way away, England”

That was said with a little glance at his daughter, but Ish wasn’t biting.

“Yes, but we both want to get our studies out of the way before, you know, travel”

“Right. Have you thought of a 417?”

“A what?”

“I think that’s the number. Working holiday maker. There’s rules about type of work, and I know that because half of my staff are on them, along with at least two in our motel. As long as you keep ticking the right boxes, you can get up to three years here, between, I think it’s eighteen and thirty-five”

Our son looked at us, eyes shining, and Maz squeezed his arm.

“Studies first, love, and—”

“THEY GOT APPLE MRS OMA!”

Trudi turned to smile at her, clearly using secret grandmotherly skills not to wince at the volume.

“Who can fetch me one, then?”

I handed LC a ten dollar note.

“Take Ish with you, love, so he can carry it back”

She dragged her brother out of the chair, and as soon as he was out of earshot, a blushing Gwen almost whispered, “He’s really serious about Clara, isn’t he?”

Her Dad simply asked, “And you’re not serious about Andy? Better tell us now, if you’re not”

“Daaaad… I… Yeah. You know I am. Just, well, someone to talk to? Who’s my age? Is that wrong?”

She shook her head, before clearly remembering something important.

“He’s got scars on his back, Mr Rhodes”

“Playing rugby when he was younger, love”

“No, not those; these ones looked like cuts”

Maz grunted, then grinned.

“Embarrass the boy, darling? As you say, it’s traditional. Wait until he’s back, please”

Apple ice cream delivered, Ish handed me the change, such as it was, for two little people seemed to have acquired a scoop each. Maz pounced.

“Darling?”

“Yes, Mum?”

“Gwen was asking about the scars on your back”

“Studs in rugby, Gwen”

Maz was still purring.

“No, darling. The newer ones. The cuts”

I felt guilty as he blushed, but he still managed to stammer out, “Group of horrible women on a hen night”

Gwen asked, quite simply, “Whose hen night?”, and Ish shook his head.

“Got no idea. They tried to pull my shirt off, and they had those artificial plastic nails on. Cut me a few times. Had to sit with my shirt off till I stopped bleeding”

Manfred was the one to grin this time.

“This was in a pub, yes? What happened to the hen party?”

Maz was in mid-snort just then.

“They got thrown out, Manfred. What was that phrase from Marlene, darling? With extreme prejudice? You know, I really think gangs of drunk women are worse than men. Bear that in mind for your own hen do, Gwen. Bachelorette, whatever it’s called”

The girl’s blush was much. Much redder than our boy’s had been. Job done, Mrs Rhodes.