Lexi nodded. “I just have to do this and then I can go home,” she said, seemingly more for her own benefit than for Kate’s. She wiped her hands on her uniform skirt and stared at the keys.

Kate sat forward in her seat. Christ, why am I so nervous? she thought. “Okay, Carole King, show me what you’ve got.”

Lexi’s performance left her speechless. Pride welled inside her as she listened to every practised note. Lexi gave her everything. Kate bit the insides of her cheeks and willed herself not to cry. She’d loved this year, these students—she’d probably never be as close to a cohort ever again. St. Joan’s fostered a magic found nowhere else and now, the year was reaching its grand finale.

When she was finished, Lexi’s hands remained on the keys as she stared at her opened songbook, as though just then realising she could have used it.

Kate sat forward and pressed her pen to the report line where a graded letter belonged. “Well,” she said, marking the page, “I think I just felt the earth move under my—”

A choked sob broke across the room and Kate’s eyes snapped up. Lexi swivelled on the piano seat and with her back to Kate, burst into tears.

Just watching the much-anticipated performance had been nerve-wracking for Kate—she could only imagine how overwhelming it had been for Lexi. She moved across the room. Gently, she placed her open report book on the baby grand. “Why are you crying, Lex?”

Sobs slowing, Lexi drew her hands over her face. “Because I’ve been practising for months and I needed to do well and I wanted to impress you and now it’s over.”

“So you’re relieved?”

“No.” The tears stopped. With red-rimmed eyes, she looked at Kate. “Maybe.” She swatted at her cheeks. “I’m just worried that I’ll never get another chance.”

Oh, honey. Kate slid her book across the lid of the piano.

Curious, Lexi’s eyes darted to the book, then to Kate, and back to the book. Puffing air from her cheeks, she reached out and pulled it toward her.

“Still want that second chance?” Kate asked.

Lexi grinned.

Kate swallowed over the tightness in her throat. She nodded toward the door. “Go on,” she said, “it’s time to get out of here.”

With her toiletries bag already filled to the brim, in the dull light of the bathroom, Kate slowly packed half a dozen half-empty shampoo and conditioner bottles from the bathroom cabinet into a calico shopping bag. There was no other way to distract herself from the low feeling that came from farewelling the girls at the pier. She’d finished writing Lexi’s report to mail on Monday, packed two suitcases worth of clothes, the four boxes of her books were ready to go, and Tilly had insisted that she didn’t need help dicing vegetables for their dinner.

The bathroom door and window were both open to clear the steam after Tilly’s evening shower and over Tilly’s monotonous chop-chop and an episode of Masterchef on TV, Kate could hear the closing notes of Silent Night drifting from the chapel across the road. Earlier in the evening, the choir from St. Gerard’s had come to rehearse for Christmas Eve mass with the sisters of St. Joan’s. Now, after a light, midsummer’s night supper in the quad, they were back at it again.