Fate," Blue replied, glowering at her mother, "is a very weighty word to throw around before breakfast.

Sean, as always, gets by on one word while everyone else needs five or six.

My chest ached, my body speaking a language my head didn't quite understand. I waited. But Grace, the only person in the world I wanted to know me, just ran a wanting finger over the cover of one of the new hardcovers and walked out of the store without ever realising I was there, right within reach.

It matters, like this: I belong to Malvern, you don't.

"It's OK," Puck says. She has a quick way of hiding her disappointment. If you're not looking for it, she's put it away somewhere before you know it was there. "You're busy." "No," I tell her. "No, I'll think about it. I'm not sure if I can get away." I don't know wheat I'm thinking. I cannot find the time to get away. I'm not a good dinner companion. But it's hard to think of that. Instead I'm wishing that I'd spoken sooner, before I'd seen her disappointment.

He didn't like to see either of the women in his family disappointed; it ruined perfectly good meals.

Then I picked my book back up again and stroked her hair and read to the soundtrack of her breaths.