Interludes for more gossip.

Day 8. Monday.

Not even out of bed yet and a text from Vera. I always put my phone on quiet, but my sister, Sonya, nosey as ever, opened an eye.

'Who’s that?'

'Vera.'

'Why?'

'Can I pick up her Financial Times? Seems they forgot to include it this morning.'

How can such an irrelevancy spark off the imagination of an eleven-year-old?

'Have you seen the heap of papers poor Georgie has to lug up to the House every morning?'

'She’s a big strapping lass. I’m sure she can cope.'

'Aren’t we related to her somehow?'

'Our mums share the same great grandmother.'

There was a pause while Sonya let that filter through her sleepy brain. I found I was dressing rather slowly.

'And the girl in the stores is related to Georgie somehow, so she must be related to us.'

'Too complicated. Sonya.'

'Shouldn’t you be hurrying or something?