“Ooh—gossip!” Sophie clapped her hands in excitement. “Lulu’s been on a secret date!”

“Imagine it, Charlie,” said Lulu. “Living with this, week after week, year after year. Are you sure you’d have liked to have had sisters?”

“I’m waiting, Lulu,” said Emma. “Rosie said he was tall, with glasses and lightish brown hair, wearing jeans and a blue shirt. Who was he?”

Cornered, Lulu sighed. “Tom,” she said. “Happy now?”

“I knew it!” Emma slapped the table in triumph.

“Who’s Tom?” said Sophie.

“The lodger, Sophie,” said Lulu. “He’s still living in Emma’s old room, and Emma is just beside herself with delight to have discovered that he and I had lunch together on Friday.”

“The lodger?” said Sophie. “Isn’t he a bit old for you?”

“Thank you, Sophie,” said Lulu. “At last, some words of sense, and from you, no less. Yes, you are correct, he’s a nice guy, but in terms of going on a date, he is not a bit old, but very much indeed too old for me.”

“He’s not that old,” said Emma. “He’s twelve years older than me.”

“Twelve years older than you?” said Sophie. “He’s older than God.”

“Keep talking, Sophie,” said Lulu. “Maybe Emma will listen to you, because she’s made it plain that she won’t listen to me.”

“But it does happen,” said Sophie then, thoughtfully. “There was Emma and Mr. Knightly. And Maria and Captain Von Trapp. And did you see that movie with Scarlett Johansson and that really old comedian?”

“Will you all shut up?” said Lulu. She ratted her hands through her hair, sending it spiraling in wild curls. “Since you’re all so interested about this, I happened to bump into Tom when I was walking down the Caledonian Road, and as it happened to be lunchtime, we happened to have lunch together at Carroll’s. I had a bacon sandwich, he had the full English breakfast, and he puts Tabasco sauce on his scrambled eggs, which I still think is weird. It’s entirely possible that in the course of the forty minutes tops that we spent together, he said something that made me laugh, because he’s actually quite an amusing person once you get to know him. But he’s not my boyfriend, okay? I don’t have a boyfriend, and, to tell you the truth, right now, I don’t even want one, because as far as I can make out, relationships are more trouble than they’re worth. I’m happy for you, Emma, and I’m happy for you, Charlie, and Sophie, if your grinning, beer-bottling Rupert keeps you happy and out of my hair, then I’m happy for all of us. But I am really—really, truly, and seriously—not looking for a boyfriend, and I really wish you’d all accept that. Okay?” She got up from the table and returned to the oven. “Now, who wants me to start sausages with their vegetables, and who wants to wait for poached eggs?”

The next afternoon, when Lulu was finishing her shift at the pub, her mother called her.