“It’s called irony, Grooty.” Vectra swung the band around her wrist and then pointed to the print of the T-shirt she wore underneath her hoodie. “You really think I look like a Star Wars fan?”

Esther had no reference as to what a Star Wars fan looked like. Box office numbers suggested they were everywhere, lurking under perfectly normal facades.

“I, er, so you don’t want to go and see an MM tribute band with me?”

Vectra curled her perfect, plum-tinted lips. “And party with the fat forty-year-olds who still think that kind of thing is current? No thanks.”

When the next person walked into the spotlight, Vectra turned back to the front, while Esther stared up at the bar where Susan, McGraw, and Ed Gemmell were all laughing at something far funnier than student stand-up.

Walking back from the House of Zoise, Daisy scrolled through her phone, frowning at just how many missed calls from Granny she’d accrued. Weeks ago, such a thing would have been unfathomable. Voicemails were listened to, calls returned by a diligent granddaughter who missed her home.

Perhaps it was an indication of just how far she’d come since she signed up with the Brethren. She had a new family, with cookies and tea and yoga. She didn’t need Granny anymore, in the same way she didn’t need Susan and Esther. The Brethren of Zoise was where she belonged.

At least . . . it was supposed to be.

If we cannot share, we cannot belong.

What else was she supposed to share? She’d recruited two new members and gutted the contents of her bedroom. The only thing she’d yet to do was move in to do the cleaning and—judging by Jasper’s comments—do all the things that the residents would expect from a parent.

When Daisy had yearned for a family, she hadn’t envisioned that she would be the parent.

As she shoved her hands deeply into the pockets of her coat, Daisy’s fingers closed around the two badges she’d made for Susan and Esther that she’d never had the chance to give them. Once she’d thought they were the best mums ever . . . but would they even notice if she moved out?

Needing the reassurance that the Zounds of Zoise provided, Daisy slipped on her headphones as she trudged back toward her dorm.

“. . . move through the physical, on through the emotional and into the spiritual . . . 100g of dark chocolate (at least 70 percent cocoa), two tablespoons of golden syrup . . . groceries delivered to 21 Tuttlebury Avenue would be great . . . mix the dry ingredients in a bowl . . . don’t trust your friends, trust your Brethren . . .”

When Daisy reached her room, she sat down in the dark, still in her coat, and opened her laptop to order groceries to be delivered to the House of Zoise.

Once the last comic died onstage, Susan asked the two boys if they’d come and sit with her.