But instead of arguments about their parentless state, the school secretary came running up to the counter saying, “There you are. I bet you’re the McCready children, aren’t you? Your teachers have been told you’re coming. Your great-aunt registered you last week. We thought actually we’d see you yesterday but, silly me, I forget about jet lag. All the way from Borneo, my! I’ve never been farther than Vancouver. I bet you needed at least a day to get yourselves in the right time zone, now, didn’t you? Dear, if you’re Fiona, I know your great-aunt said you’d be going to St. Mary’s Secondary and that’s across the street. I’ll see to your sisters if you want to hustle over there.”

“We were wondering about a school bus?” said Fiona.

“Well, your great-aunt said she’d be taking you both ways,” said the secretary. “Or, oh gosh, I forget, she passed, didn’t she? I’m so sorry. Did your family get here in time for the funeral?”

“Um, no,” said Fiona, while the other three looked uncomfortable and tried not to express the panic they were feeling at their parentless state being somehow any moment found out and their hopes and plans coming to nothing.

“That’s a shame but it was sudden as I recall. Well, I’ll sort the school bus. No problem. You’ll all be on the same one. Both schools share the two buses. There’s one that goes west and one that goes east. You’ll be on the westbound, which leaves from the secondary school parking lot. Most kids are on the eastbound, which leaves from our lot, so don’t forget and get on that one. I’ll make sure you’re on the list and a stop is put in for you. It’ll all be arranged by the time school is out. Just tell the driver you’re the McCreadys and you’ll be his last stop in case he forgets. Imagine you living way out there at Miss McCready’s place on Farhill Road. She’s got a lovely heritage farm. Or did have. Although, I guess she never did much farming. A fisherman, wasn’t she, really? But such a beautiful old farm she bought there. They’re always the loveliest, aren’t they, the old ones? It used to have quite the apple orchard but I guess she doesn’t do much with the apples anymore, does she? Shame.”

“She doesn’t do much with anything anymore,” whispered Marlin to Natasha.

“As far as we know,” whispered Natasha back because she’d been taught everyone went to heaven and she figured you must do something there. You didn’t just sit around and twiddle your thumbs.

Fiona gave them both a hard look for whispering.

“Oh gosh, there I go again. On about the apples. I do love heritage apple trees. And she’s got a bunch of different kinds of old fruit trees, not just apples. That’s really all I know about her. She kept to herself I believe.”

“At least we’ll have free fruit,” said Natasha, and Marlin nudged her with her elbow. The secretary didn’t seem to notice as she went to her desk to put down her papers.