‘I couldn’t imagine my mum selling this place,’ Jenny says, sighing deeply on my behalf.

We’re sitting in her kitchen, where there’s a round, wooden table and an assortment of chairs that sort of go together, but look as though they’ve led very different lives. Gloria Merritt likes ‘eclectic’. Mum calls it ‘junk’, but it creates a cosy atmosphere.

I don’t reply. I’m glad that Jenny’s being so sympathetic, of course, but she’s been doing this for a month now, and I’d rather she didn’t. I want to forget about my house. I’d rather be talking about Stella’s three kittens, who are completely ADORABLE, and are nestled with their mother in a basket in the corner.

I was hoping I’d get to name them again, like I did with Stella herself, and I was going to call them Jean, Paul and Gaultier, but Jenny refused. She’s thinking along a musical theme, of course. I suggested Andrew, Lloyd and Webber, but she told me to grow up. (It doesn’t help that one of them’s a girl.) Edie thought of Macavity, Gus and Jemima, because they’re from Cats (musical), but invented by TS Eliot (poet, and therefore seriously good at thinking of names). Jenny said no: too obvious. Instead, she’s suggested a dozen names from 1950s musicals that we’ve never heard of. Right now we’re stuck.

Crow has stayed out of the whole naming issue, which is very wise. She’s restricted herself to making pom-poms for them to play with. She’s sitting on the floor next to them, happily winding pink wool around a piece of card like I used to do when I was six. For the moment, I think she’s forgotten she’s a Serious Fashion Designer. In fact, we haven’t talked Serious Fashion since I told her about the MIMO email and her eyes practically filled her face, they were so huge. Since then, it’s mostly been exams and panicking. Right now, she’s just a girl who’s got a friend with cute kittens, and who likes playing with wool. She’s already wearing a pom-pom necklace and I have to admit, I’m thinking of asking her to make one for me.

‘I must say, this place is looking a lot better,’ Edie says. I think she can sense I don’t want to talk about my room any more. She doesn’t always say the right thing, but she certainly tries.

‘Thanks,’ Jenny mutters. ‘Wasn’t that difficult.’

It’s true. The flat isn’t a rubbish tip now. It’s clean and bright and the perfect place to bring up kittens. Either Gloria’s feeling better, or Jenny’s been working hard on it in between exams. Which, thank God, are finally over. It gives us lots of time to sit in each other’s kitchens, wondering what to do with ourselves.

Gloria still seems to be avoiding us though. I can’t help scanning the cupboards, wondering if there are any vodka bottles stashed inside them. Does Jenny know? Does she look?

We all sit around in silence for a while, lost in our different thoughts.

‘Any more news from Jackson Ward?’ I ask, for the sake of something to say.

Jenny grins and goes pink.

‘Yes, actually,’ she says. I can tell she’s really excited but she’s trying to play it cool. ‘I heard yesterday. The producers have managed to get a theatre in Chicago. The show’s going to open in November. For six weeks. They’ve got this mega-incredible new director. And the cast is amazing.’

‘Including you?’ I check.

‘Including me!’

Edie and Crow both look up sharply. Even one of the kittens opens a sleepy eye.

Jenny continues, happily. ‘The workshop worked. They’ve got Carmen Candy as the star, so they can afford to have an igloo. Nope. Ingenius? Ingénue, that’s it. The new girl. Plus I was in that movie, so people have kind of heard of me.’

‘Wow!’ Crow says, at the same time as me.

Edie’s speechless for a bit longer, but eventually she says, ‘SIX WEEKS?’

Jenny nods, excited.

Edie’s still shocked. ‘SIX WEEKS? In November? What about your A levels?’

Jenny shrugs. ‘They’ll give me a tutor. But I’ll put exams on hold for a year. It’s the only way, really.’

Edie sits there, stunned. ‘Seriously?’

‘I think you mean congratulations,’ I prompt.

‘I certainly don’t,’ Edie says. ‘How will you get a work permit?’

‘Born there,’ Jenny says. ‘Remember? Dad was on tour, so I have a US passport. It’s the one thing I can be grateful to him for.’

‘Oh my God,’ Edie rushes on. ‘And what about Stella and the kittens? Is your mum OK to look after them for six weeks?’

Jenny looks embarrassed. ‘Actually, it’s more than that. We perform for six weeks. But there’s rehearsals too. And Jackson wants me to go back to New York first and work on my voice with a singing coach he knows, so I can handle so many performances. And learn the dance routines, because I’ll need more time on those than most people.’

I feel dizzy. It sounds as though everything’s organised and I can hardly get my head around it.

‘So when do you start?’

‘Any time I like,’ Jenny says. ‘Jackson says the more time we spend together the better. I can stay with him. And don’t worry, he’s not some pervy old man. He’s married to this amazing sculptress who’s famous too, and there’s Charlotte, his daughter – remember? She can’t wait to show me more of New York. He just wants to help me out.’

Edie looks as shocked as me. Crow’s got her head down, avoiding the conversation. I don’t blame her. ‘When exactly?’ I ask.

Jenny tosses her red curls. ‘In a couple of weeks. He’s got this to-die-for house. I’m sure you could come and stay too for a bit, if you wanted to.’

Edie keeps her voice quiet, but she sounds super-unimpressed. ‘I’m busy. I still have my personal statement to prepare for Harvard, remember? And essays. And more SATs. And my summer job. And it looks as though I’ll have to come over here to keep an eye on your kittens.’

‘Oh!’ Jenny says. ‘Would you?’

I don’t know if she’s deliberately ignoring the sarcasm in Edie’s voice, or if she hasn’t noticed. But she seems thrilled to think that someone’s going to look after the cats.

Edie says nothing. You could make the atmosphere into a thick blanket. I look across at Crow and laugh lightly. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to sound.

‘Well, it looks like I’m going to have one friend in America and another in the library all summer. Thank goodness I’ve got you, hey?’

Crow puts her pom-pom down carefully and tilts her face to look at me. Her expression is not promising.

‘My dad wrote to me last week. He’s worried about how I’m doing at school. And the family’s missing me. They want me to spend the summer with them in Uganda.’

I’m stunned. Crow’s known this for a week and she hasn’t told me until now. She is rubbish with important news. I do wish the girl would talk more occasionally. Well, sometimes her silences are lovely, but not all the time.

The kittens choose this moment to wake up properly and start crawling around, mewing gently.

Jenny, Edie and I use the excuse to grab one each and stroke them. We don’t talk to each other. We don’t look at each other.

My lovely, lovely, fashion-planning, friend-filled, exam-free summer is turning into a nightmare. And then my phone goes. It’s a text from Mum.

‘Just got your report. Come home now. Need to talk.’

The nightmare has just begun.