‘I’ve got feelers out,’ Elle said, more confidently than she felt. ‘I’m sure I’ll be able to find another job as soon as I get back.’ The fact she hadn’t had any feedback yet was a little disappointing, but there was no need to tell her mother that yet. Nor that because she’d discovered if she applied for a UK passport, being eligible through her grandmother, she could work as a resident if she chose to stay on a bit longer and find a job to support herself as she travelled.

‘I think you need to give returning to study serious consideration while you’re away. Things aren’t going to be the way they were here, now that Gran’s gone.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Come on, Elle,’ her mother said in that condescending tone Elle hated. ‘You never really had to face up to things while Gran was alive. You came home and moved in here. You had a place to live, which was how you managed to live comfortably on that meagre wage you’ve been making at Brown’s all this time. You’ll have to live in the real world once you get home, Elle. Gran’s not here to prop you up anymore. It’s time to grow up.’

Now, darling, Gran cut in anxiously, remember, she’s just trying to help. But it was too late. As usual, her mother’s aim had been a direct hit.

‘Grow up? Because that’s how you see me, isn’t it? As a kid, still. Just because I haven’t got some degree after my name like the others, it somehow makes me immature in your eyes.’

‘You have the ability to do more with your life than waste it away here.’

‘I don’t, Mum,’ Elle said, her voice straining. ‘That’s what I’ve been telling you my entire life, but you won’t listen because you can’t accept the fact that one of your children is less than perfect.’

She saw her mother shake her head in exasperation as she usually did during this conversation and her father tried to jump in and change the subject, but Elle refused to let it go.

‘I don’t have the ability to do what you want me to do. I just don’t. I know it. I’ve accepted it. Some people just aren’t academic. There’s no shame in that,’ she added pointedly. ‘I’m okay with not being book smart. I’m okay being average. You’re the one who has a problem with it. Heaven forbid Caroline Kinnaird has a child who doesn’t become successful in some important career.’

‘This has nothing to do with that,’ her mother countered. ‘This is about you and your future.’

‘This is about you. Please don’t insult what intelligence I do have by pretending it’s anything other than that.’