Page 11 of The Long Way Home

“Where is everyone, anyway?” I’m semi-miffed that my sister, my lifelong best friend and my new best friend are the only welcoming committee for my big London return.

I don’t know who else I was expecting. Christian, maybe? I haven’t spoken to Jonah since. Having Marsaili out here with some flowers and a banner would have been nice though, don’t you think?

“In here,” she nods at the dining room door, then stops. “Dinner’s on the table. You’re almost an hour late — so typical of you.”

I shrug, unperturbed. “Harley should have sent me the G700 then and not the Bombardier, and that’s just a consequence he’s going to have to bear.”

Taura stands in front of Henry and he slips his hand under her Get Back printed cotton-jersey jumper from the Stella McCartney x The Beatles collaboration.

“And what consequence might that be?” She blinks. “The potato gratin gets a bit cold?”

I frown at her playfully. “What’s a potato?”

Henry slings an arm around me. “It’s where vodka comes from.”

Bridget looks across all of us, blocking the path.

“So look, on the other side of this door is a lot of family drama…”

I roll my eyes. “Great.”

“Bushka isn’t talking to Marsaili—”

“—Why?” I interrupt.

“Because Marsaili won’t let her be a bridesmaid,” Taura tells me.

She spends a bit of time with Bridget, I’m told. That’s nice. I’m glad they have each other here in my absence.

“Mum’s new bottom’s here—”

“Bridget!” I poke her in the ribs. “If you insist on creating an acronym out of Boyfriend Of The Month, I beg of you, please, don’t say it phonetically.”

Henry starts laughing.

“Dad hates the BOTM…”

Henry tilts his head. “Interesting.”

“Keeps asking why he’s here—”

“Seems fair,” Taura considers.

“Then Mum is angry because Uncle Alexi’s hurt that he’s not invited…”

“Your mum’s brother is angry that he’s not invited to her ex-husband’s next wedding?”

Bridget shrugs, helpless. “I’m just here with the facts.”

“Wow.” I blink. “I really was the glue around here, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah.” My sister gives me a glib look. “That’s what it is.”

And then Henry pushes through the door.

My mum is first up.

Hands on both my shoulders, kiss-kisses each of my cheeks by bumping them with hers.