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nice chat with the girls over a bite.
     Lucky job Mrs. Gillie left a lot of meat pies behind the last time she was here.”
    “She always looks after us, Dad. Of course she made sure there’d be enough for everyone.”
    “I would have thought that would be your job.”
    Ah. Here it was. “I’m sorry. But the gang was getting together and I couldn’t very well miss my own welcome-home party.”
    “You might have invited the girls along.”
    “I did. Lissa, at least. But everyone was exhausted.”
    He just looked at me. I hate that look. Every time I’m cheeky to him or forget to do something he’s specifically asked me
     to, he gives me that look and I feel every bit as horrible as he thinks I am.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “They’ve come a long way to be with you. You might think about that next time.”
    “I know.”
    “It must be difficult, straddling two worlds like this.”
    Exactly what I’d just been thinking, but I wasn’t about to let him know that. “I’m a popular girl.”
    “I don’t think it’s about popularity. I see it as more a bridge between the past and the future. Are you planning to take
     your final two terms in America?”
    “St. Cecelia’s says not. Two exchange terms max. But don’t tell the girls that. They don’t know I’m not supposed to come back
     with them.”
    “Mummy and I can negotiate another term for you.”
    “You can?”
    “If your A-levels come in.”
    “What about uni?”
    “That would be up to you. I took a gap year and never regretted it.”
    “Shani’s boyfriend is doing that. Only he’s going off on some missionary thing to somewhere where there’s no running water.”
    He chuckled. “To each his own. I see you applied to a couple of American universities. St. Cecelia’s called me saying your
     transcripts had been requested and asked if I was aware of that.”
    “Thorough, aren’t they?” I buried my nose in my mug.
    “You could go to good old Edinburgh, you know. They have one of the best medical programs in the UK.”
    “Dad, we’ve talked about this before. I don’t know what I want to do yet, besides live a little and hang out here with you.”
    “Those sound like opposites to me.”
    “After living it up, a person needs this place to come home to.”
    “I don’t know for how much longer.”
    “What?”
    But at that moment the girls straggled in, more or less dressed. I peered at Lissa. “Are you wearing two jumpers—er, sweaters?”
    She looked down at herself. “Don’t they match?”
    “If it’s that cold in your room, turn up the fire,” Dad suggested. “I can’t have my guests freezing to death.”
    “She’s a fragile flower,” Gillian said. “In New York, we know how to bundle up.”
    “The Upper East Side isn’t
that
cold,” Shani said. “And you’re wearing long johns under that tunic sweater. I thought those went out with the Depression.”
    “Excuse me, I wear them skiing,” Gillian told her with dignity. “And they’re silk, so there.”
    “Any chance of a cup of coffee?” Lissa asked, her tone pathetic.
    “None,” Dad said. “But I can offer you a very strong English Breakfast tea.”
    “As long as it’s hot.”
    I got up and chucked some toast in the toaster, then sliced oranges and found some grapes. “Anyone for porridge?”
    Everyone groaned in a big chorus, except Carly, who said, “Yes, please.”
    “You are so weird,” Shani informed her.
    Then she looked at Carly more closely. So did I. Had she been crying? If so, I needed to find a moment alone with her to ask
     what was going on. Surely she couldn’t be missing Brett that much already.
    “She isn’t weird at all,” Dad said. “A girl after my own heart.” He got up, but I waved him into his seat again. “I’ll do
     it. I won’t eat the stuff, but I certainly haven’t forgotten how to make it.”
    So far no one appeared to be in any shape to make any comments about my behavior from last night. And after breakfast, during