She laughed and flopped back on the bed.

Sighing, I sat down next to her.

‘He was at some party-sounding thing in Rio.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Brazil.’

She whistled. ‘He lives a cool life.’

‘Yeah.’

Cookie came into the room. ‘Oi, lunch is served. Get your lazy asses off the bed.’

‘In a minute,’ Button mumbled, digging her face into a fluffy pillow.

I groaned off the bed and draped myself around Cookie in a full-body hug. ‘Hi, Cooks!’

‘Get off me, you freak.’

I nuzzled her ear. ‘But I loooove you!’

She broke into reluctant tickle-induced giggles and swatted at me with her tiny hands. ‘Oof, stop! Come eat.’

Laughing, I got off her and pulled the pillow out from under Button’s head. ‘Yeah, let’s.’

Uncle broke into a smile as the three of us entered the dining room.

‘Hi, Uncle,’ Button said, sliding into a chair.

‘We’ve invited ourselves over again, as you can see,’ I added, dropping into a seat beside her.

‘Good. I’m glad.’

‘Stop encouraging them, Baba. I already see more of these two than I want to.’

‘You’re not very nice to your friends,’ Aunty remarked, passing around the salad. Thoroughly enticed by the steaming bowls of chicken and lamb on the table, I passed it to Button without so much as touching the serving handle. She reluctantly put a cucumber and a single piece of lettuce on her plate. One of the maids caught me eyeing the chicken and made a move to start serving it.

Aunty stopped her. ‘Hold on, dear. Not till she eats some vegetables first.’

‘But, but, Aunty! Must I?’

She spooned a generous helping of salad on to my plate in response.

Uncle chuckled over his bowl of gazpacho. ‘The things we have to go through to get to the meat!’

‘Keep space for dessert, all of you. I’ve made chocolate mousse,’ Aunty said. Button and I let out loud whoops of joy.

Conversation turned to our plans for college. Uncle and Aunty wanted to know whether I’d decided on anything yet. I told them that I’d whittled down a list of places, but that the admission procedures would take close to six months. Only one thing was set in stone: I was going to America.

It was almost de rigueur for girls from The House to leave the country for a few years post high school, graduate classes scattered around the world and bring back art history and English degrees as proud souvenirs. A select few dispensed with the pretentions and went straight to Saks and Selfridges instead, getting a head start on putting together a perfect trousseau.

A maid brought out dessert. I felt like I could have eaten the entire mass of chocolate myself, but a memory of the image in Cookie’s mirror restrained me to a small dollop.