Does Molly not want Danni to know she’s a minor internet celebrity? Or does she not want Danni to look her up for another reason?

I realize, too late, that this might very much be the case. If Molly’s new friend doesn’t know what happened in Amsterdam yet, perhaps she’s hoping to keep it that way for the time being. I may not have many lines I wouldn’t cross when it comes to stirring someone up, but even I know Amsterdam is off-limits.

“It’s not a secret, it just didn’t come up.” Molly’s tone is about as tense as I’ve ever heard it, and I must not be the only one who notices, because Danni jumps in with a hasty subject change.

“So, everyone here is from, like, a mega-rich family?” she asks.

Eleanor and I exchange an incredulous glance. Even Molly cracks a reluctant smile.

“Quite,” I say faintly, and Eleanor chokes on her laughter.

Molly jumps in. “All Rose means is, surnames are how we figure out our mutual connections. It’s not all snobbery.”

“Only ninety percent or so,” Eleanor adds with a mischievous grin.

“Like,” Molly goes on, “Eleanor’s a Kowalczyk, and half the families at school are represented by Kowalczyk and Nought. The law firm,” she adds, when she notices Danni isn’t following along. “Or Alfie over there. His mum’s Helen Paget-Harrington, and the Harringtons are one of the oldest families in the country.”

“And the Pagets are … nobody in particular,” Eleanor says. She shoots me a guilty glance—she is, after all, talking about close family friends of mine—but I give her a curt nod of agreement, so she continues. “Alfie’s dad immigrated from London ages ago and clawed his way up the ladder here.”

Danni gives an uneasy laugh. I’ve only just met her, so it’s possible I’m misreading her expression, but she appears to be studying Eleanor and Molly as though they’re an alien species. “Huh,” she says. “I don’t even know what most of my friends’ parents do for work.”

Molly touches her arm gently. “You don’t need to know this stuff. You’re not getting quizzed on it or anything.”

Danni tilts her head. “I guess I’m pretty much like a Paget. My last name doesn’t really mean anything.”

“Maybe not,” I say with a shrug. “Best to share it anyway. You’ll stand out less that way.”

She locks eyes with me so sharply I wonder if she somehow forgot I was sitting here. “Fine,” she says. “Whatever. Then I guess I’m Daniela from the nobody-in-particular Blythes.”

“Well,” I say, “it would seem you’re now Daniela from Bramppath. That’s something, at least.”