‘Well, we just turned up,’ I say apologetically. ‘Sorry.’

The door swings open and a woman with chestnut hair bounces in. She has merry dark eyes and is wearing a stylish blue swingy top over jeans, covering the teeniest little pregnancy bump.

‘Hi!’ she says, coming straight up to me. ‘I’m Faith. You’re Rebecca, right? Erica just told me we had a newcomer in our midst.’

She has a gorgeous lilting Southern accent which to my ear sounds as though it’s from Charleston. Or Texas. Or maybe … Wyoming? Is that Southern?

Do I mean Wisconsin?

No. No. That’s the cheese state. Whereas Wyoming is …

OK, the truth is, I have no idea where Wyoming is. I must do Minnie’s United States jigsaw puzzle and actually look at the names.

‘Hi, Faith.’ I smile back and shake her hand. ‘Lovely to meet you.’

‘Are these girls looking after y’all?’

Y’all. I just love that. Y’all. Maybe I’ll start saying ‘y’all’.

‘They sure are!’ I say, putting a little twang in my voice. ‘They surely are!’

‘What we want to know is, how did she get a place?’ Carola appeals to Faith. ‘She walks in here off the street, writes the cheque and she’s in. I mean, who does that?’

‘Didn’t Queenie put in a good word for her?’ says Faith. ‘Because she was British? I think Erica said something about it.’

‘Ohhhh.’ Carola exhales like a deflating balloon. ‘That’s it. OK, now I understand. You were lucky.’ She turns to me. ‘That wouldn’t happen to everybody. You need to thank Queenie. She did you a big favour.’

‘Sorry, who’s Queenie?’ I say, trying to keep up.

‘Our President of the PTA,’ explains Sydney. ‘She has a daughter in the Toddler Program, too. You’ll love her. She’s so sweet.’

‘She’s super-fun,’ agrees Faith. ‘She’s British, too! We call her Queenie because she talks like the Queen of England.’

‘She organizes awesome social events,’ says Carola.

‘And she runs a moms’ yoga class on Wednesday mornings. Knocks us all into shape.’

‘It sounds amazing!’ I say enthusiastically. ‘I’ll definitely come!’

My spirits are higher than they’ve been since we arrived in LA. At last I’ve found some friends! They’re all so welcoming and fun. And this Queenie sounds fab. Maybe she and I will really hit it off. We can compare notes on living in LA and share pots of Marmite.

‘How long has Queenie lived in LA?’ I ask.

‘Not too long. A couple of years, maybe?’

‘She had quite the whirlwind romance,’ puts in Faith. ‘She and her husband met on a Tuesday and were married by the Friday.’

‘No way!’

‘Oh yes.’ Faith laughs. ‘It’s a great story. You’ll have to ask her about it.’ She glances out of the window into the car park. ‘Oh, here she comes now.’ She waves and beckons at someone, and I sit up expectantly.

‘Queenie!’ exclaims Carola as the door opens. ‘Come meet Rebecca.’

‘Thank you so much for helping us—’ I begin, as the door swings further open. And then my words dry up on my lips and I feel my entire body shrivel. No. No.