Of course, I’d told my mother that I’d been practising my tennis swing indoors, and the racket had slipped from my hands – an especially unbelievable story, since a racket was never found.

It was as I was reliving this painful memory that a heavy wooden door opened, and a priest came out and said, ‘Mrs Ackerman, what a pleasure to see you again. And this must be Susannah Simon. Come in, won’t you?’ He ushered us into his office, then paused, and said to the boy on the couch, ‘Oh, no, Mr McTavish. Not on the first day of a brand-new semester.’

Adam shrugged. ‘What can I say? The broad hates me.’

‘Kindly do not refer to Sister Ernestine as a broad, Mr McTavish. I will see to you in a moment, after I have spoken with these ladies.’

We went in, and the principal, Father Dominic – that was his name – sat and chatted with us for a while, asking me how I liked California so far. I said I liked it fine, especially the ocean. We had spent most of the day before at the beach, after I’d finished unpacking. I had found my sunglasses, and even though it was too cold to swim, I had a great time just lying on a blanket on the beach, watching the waves. They were huge, bigger than on Baywatch, and Doc spent most of the afternoon explaining to me why that was. I forget now, since I was so drugged by the sun, I was hardly even listening. I found that I loved the beach, the smell of it, the seaweed that washed up on shore, the feel of the cool sand between my toes, the taste of salt on my skin when I got home. Carmel might not have had a Bagel Bob’s, but Manhattan sure didn’t have no beach.

Father Dominic expressed his sincere hope that I’d be happy at the Mission Academy, and went on to explain that even though I wasn’t Catholic, I shouldn’t feel unwelcome at Mass. There were, of course, Holy Days of Obligation, when the Catholic students would be required to leave their lessons behind and go to church. I could either join them, or stay behind in the empty classroom, whatever I chose.

I thought this was kind of funny, for some reason, but I managed to keep from laughing. Father Dominic was old, but what you’d probably call spry, and he struck me as sort of handsome in his white collar and black robes – I mean, handsome for a sixty-year-old. He had white hair, and very blue eyes, and well-maintained fingernails. I don’t know many priests, but I thought this one might be all right – especially since he hadn’t come down hard on the boy in the outer office who’d called that nun a broad.

After Father Dominic had described the various offences I could get expelled for – skipping class too many times, dealing drugs on campus, the usual stuff – he asked me if I had any questions. I didn’t. Then he asked my mother if she had any questions. She didn’t. So then Father Dominic stood up and said, ‘Fine then. I’ll say goodbye to you, Mrs Ackerman, and walk Susannah to her first class. All right, Susannah?’