WHEN they got home, Lina’s father had a nap and Lina changed into her old clothes to help Nonna in the kitchen. When the family asked about how the meeting had gone, Pa answered on Lina’s behalf. ‘They didn’t want the story. Maybe next time.’ And the steely look he gave them was enough to warn them not to press Lina further.

Lina had no time to dwell on her awful morning as she and Nonna were kept busy baking biscuits to take to Julia’s Christmas drinks.

Who cares if that awful Stella Davis doesn’t want my story? she told herself as she kneaded pastry dough and dipped Nonna’s famous crescent-shaped shortbreads into chocolate. She’s not going to stop me being a writer! Papa faced far worse trying to get his stories published in Italy. One mean old lady isn’t going to stop me! All the same Lina couldn’t help feel an ache in her heart, tender as a bruise, to know that someone she had once so admired had turned out to be so ruthless and unkind.

At 5 p.m. that evening, Lina pushed open the tall iron gates of 51 Peppercorn Crescent and the family stepped into Julia’s garden, arms loaded with baskets of Nonna’s biscuits and Pa’s homemade wine. Lina heard her nonna murmur about how unkempt it all was, but to Lina it looked just how she imagined an abandoned castle might look: rambling rose bushes, unruly wisteria and the whole front of the tall white building overgrown with ivy. It was the exact opposite to Mary’s neat lawn and the sensible concreted courtyards that Lina’s family preferred.

‘You’d think with all the money they have . . .’ Nonna grumbled until Ma hushed her with a glare.

Julia answered the door in a pretty pink dress and Lina was glad she had kept her green chiffon dress clean enough to wear again that evening.

‘Lina! Thank goodness you’re here! Bronnie has just burnt the hors d’oeuvres!’ Julia rolled her eyes and lowered her voice to whisper conspiratorially. ‘They love entertaining, it’s just the cooking they can’t stand.’

Lina giggled and they followed Julia down the long dark hallway. It reminded her a little of the grand hallways at St Brigid’s, except much messier. Leaning against the antique hall stands and narrow tables was all manner of clutter, from mismatched rubber boots to broken umbrellas. Lina even spied a golf club here and there. Along the gold and cream wallpapered walls, below the heavy wooden frames of the oil paintings, were scribbly children’s drawings in crayon. Julia caught Lina looking at them. ‘Dad doesn’t believe in stunting a child’s creativity,’ she said, with a wry smile. ‘You should see the walls of my bedroom!’

Lina smiled and skipped to keep up with her friend, while her parents and her brothers shuffled along self-consciously beside her, stiff in their tight-fitting good clothes and overpolished shoes.

At the end of the corridor, Julia opened a heavy wooden door onto an enormous room. Light and music spilled out over them.

‘Dad! They’re here!’ Julia yelled. ‘You might want to turn the music down!’

‘Oh!’ said Alfred, striding across the room on his giraffe-like legs towards the old gramophone, a martini glass in one hand. ‘I’m sorry!’ He lifted the needle gently from the record and suddenly the room fell quiet. ‘I just find it impossible to listen to jazz quietly. It drives my dear Bronnie bonkers, doesn’t it, my darling?’ he said gesturing to the woman who had just appeared in another doorway.

‘Helloooo!’ the woman drawled, tottering towards them in ankle-twisting heels. Lina heard her grandmother’s sharp intake of breath. Bronnie’s silvery-blonde hair was piled up high onto her head like fairy floss, and stuck with jewels and clips. Her fingers were covered with sparkly rings. Her dress was a mass of multi-coloured flowers, cinched with a wide sparkly belt, and even her stockings were threaded in silver. Next to Nonna’s sensible brown and her mother’s demure navy, Julia’s stepmother looked like some kind of crazy peacock who had swallowed too many jelly beans. Lina loved her at first sight.

It didn’t take long before Alfred had fixed them all up with a drink and even Nonna was eventually persuaded to accept a sherry with a festive paper umbrella hooked onto the glass. Soon the music went back on and in no time Alfred was regaling them all again with his stories until Lina’s parents were crying with laughter. Even if they weren’t able to understand all of his jokes, the way he told them made it impossible not to laugh. Everyone loved Nonna’s biscuits and Bronnie’s burnt vol-au-vents were happily tipped into the bin. Bruno and Pierino chased Enzo up and down the spiral staircase and Nonna was soon giggling like a school girl.

When the sun began to slip lower in the sky and the garden became invitingly mysterious, Lina and Julia snuck out the back door to hide among the lavender bushes.

‘You haven’t told me what happened today,’ Julia said, clutching Lina’s hand. ‘I’ve been dying to know!’

The memory of that awful morning in Stella Davis’s office came flooding back into Lina’s mind and she shifted uncomfortably on the little stone wall where they were sitting.

‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ Julia said, noticing Lina’s expression change. ‘Didn’t it go well?’

Lina sighed deeply, then told Julia the whole story, comforted to see her friend puff up in rage.

‘That’s awful! How truly awful of her! Imagine! She just wanted the story to herself!’

‘I know,’ Lina agreed. All her anger had well and truly left by now. Only the sadness remained.

‘I will never read her column again!’ Julia fumed. ‘And don’t take any notice of what she says about not getting published in the Age. Dad knows heaps of people there. Even the news editor who is way more important than her! Do you want Dad to send your story in? He loves your stories. He goes on about what a great writer you are all the time!’

Lina shook her head and smiled gratefully. ‘Thanks, Julia. Maybe another time. But I think I’ve decided that this isn’t really my story to tell anyway. I’m kind of relieved it didn’t get published now, to tell you the truth. I would have hated to get John into any trouble.’

‘John?’ Julia said, poking Lina in the ribs. ‘He has a name now! So, when am I going to meet him?’

Lina laughed, realising how easily she had let his name slip now that she was with someone she trusted. ‘One day. Maybe. Who knows? Now stop asking me about him. Anyway I have more exciting news for you. We go to see our new house tomorrow morning!’

‘Oh, that’s wonderful, Lina! I can’t wait to see it,’ Julia said, clapping her hands together.

‘Me too,’ said Lina smiling happily.