Later, I get an email from Crow.

‘The overcoat men are in London for the shows. I’m seeing them on Saturday. What is a Senior Vice-President of Talent and Staffing Strategy? Cause I’m seeing one of those too. Oh, and Isabelle called to cancel her dress. She sounded like she has a bad cold. Is she OK? Hope New York was good.’

So she’s decided to go to this meeting by herself, without asking me along. Fine. No problem. I should have expected it. As for her questions, I don’t know the answers to either of them. One I can look up on the internet. The other I can only guess at. And I’m guessing a No.

At least Crow’s talking to me. Which is more than I’ve done to her since I got back from New York, I realise. I send her back a quick message, telling her about Jenny and the song, and Harry and my big mouth. I’d forgotten she’d already started designing yet another dress and now, thanks to me, it won’t be needed. I wonder what the new design was going to be? I suppose that now I’ll never know.

I’m desperate to say more. To ask what happens next and find out what she’d do if she had to choose between going to New York and going back home to Uganda. After Liam, she’s the person I’d most like to be here right now, sitting on my floor, even if she’s not saying anything. I miss her borrowing my books. I miss her annoying shrug and laid-back attitude. I miss her ever-increasing afro and never being able to guess what she’ll have decorated it with today. I miss watching her take a few scraps of fabric and turn them into a work of art.

But that’s the point, really. Because she’s so good at it, I have to let her go. Like Jenny, she’s got a gift. I’d just be selfish if I told her how much I wanted us to stay together. Better if I pretend I’m fine with how things are. As Edie says, I’m good at lying.

When I’ve sent the email, I Google Jenny, to see if there are any updates about the show to take my mind off things. Usually there’s a snippet or two about her, but today the internet’s gone crazy. Suddenly, Jenny is headline material. There are stories about her everywhere.

‘JACKSON WARD DISCOVERS BROADWAY STAR’ ‘WARD’S COPPER-HEAD BOMBSHELL’ ‘BROADWAY’S NEW BRIT BABY!’

Someone has ‘leaked’ the clip of her singing onto YouTube, where it’s already got over ninety thousand hits. I can’t bear to watch. Jenny’s anguished face is not exactly designed to cheer me up right now. However, it’s having the desired effect. The advance ticket sales for The Princesses are breaking records. Even though there are still months to go, it’s the most anticipated opening on Broadway.

I print out the story to use later. Liam’s suggested making a scrapbook about Jenny. It’s something Mum did for Crow years ago, when she first got her design career going. It’s fun to find little snippets about the show and put them in, alongside Jenny’s Vogue pictures, the Miss Teen advert of her with the elephant and the Taj Mahal and her reviews from the play, the movie (the better ones, anyway) and Annie. The plan is to take it round to Gloria at the weekend. Working on it is the best way of taking my mind off . . . everything else. Except my boyfriend. He is wonderful and I don’t mind thinking about him at all.

By Sunday, the scrapbook is ready. When Liam comes round to pick me up and take me to Gloria’s, as agreed, he finds me at the kitchen table with my miserable brother. Harry still hasn’t forgiven himself for what he’s put Isabelle through. He’s cut down on his own work because he’s so upset.

‘You going out?’ he asks.

I explain about the scrapbook.

‘Tell Gloria get well soon from me,’ he says. ‘Will Edie be there, by the way?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘You couldn’t ask her about volunteering ideas, could you? I’d like to do something useful. See if she can suggest anything.’

I promise I will. He’s obviously trying to make himself feel better. I wish I could do a scrapbook for Harry too. However, I’m not sure what a break-up scrapbook would look like. It’s probably not something he wants a memento of.

When I get to the flat with Liam, Gloria is sitting in a chair in the kitchen and Edie’s bustling round her, making coffee. Gloria looks slightly more like her old self, with her hair up in a loose bun and a little more flesh on her bones. It’s hard to say what’s happened, exactly. Maybe it’s the shock of being in hospital, or the medication they gave her, or how well Jenny’s doing in New York, or just her brain chemistry, but something has altered her mood. She smiles when she sees us and cries when she sees the scrapbook, poring over every page.

‘Thank you for looking after my girl,’ she says to me in a weak voice, and holding out a hand towards me. I take her hand, noticing the boniness of her fingers, and her shakiness as she reaches out.

‘Pleasure,’ I say. ‘New York’s amazing. You really must go.’

And then I remember that she can’t. Jenny said something about travel insurance, and she looks too frail to go. I feel silly, but Liam rescues me.

‘I like your flat, Gloria. Very homely.’

Gloria smiles at him gratefully. ‘It’s Edie who looks after it for me.’ She beckons him closer and he leans in towards her. ‘Edie saved my life, you know.’

‘Oh, don’t be silly!’ Edie says, fiddling with the cafetière and going pink. The way she bustles around reminds me exactly of her mother, except a taller, geekier version, with better hair.

‘She did,’ Gloria says earnestly, looking deep into my boyfriend’s gorgeous blue eyes. ‘More than once. Many times.’

Edie laughs. ‘What do you mean, many times? I only called one ambulance. And that was just . . . well . . . you know, anybody would’ve.’ She’s so embarrassed. But Gloria shakes her head.

‘Not anybody. Who else would come over in the middle of the night?’

‘Coffee?’ Edie asks, trying to change the subject.

‘And think of all those other times you came,’ Gloria continues, ignoring her. ‘You didn’t know if you were helping me or not, but you did it anyway. And it cost you your place at Harvard. Don’t tell me it didn’t, because I know.’

Edie looks horrified. She probably doesn’t remember telling Gloria about the stresses of last term, but she was here every day, chatting away. Some of it must have slipped out.

‘Well actually,’ she says, ‘it didn’t cost me a place, Gloria, so don’t worry.’

‘Yes it did,’ Gloria insists. ‘I know you think you were just overworking, but if you hadn’t been here every morning, you’d have had more time . . .’

‘It’s not that,’ Edie interrupts. She plonks some mugs on the table and starts pouring coffee into them. ‘I got in. I found out last week.’ Then she slumps into a chair beside me. ‘In fact,’ she admits in a stunned sort of voice, ‘I got a scholarship. Look.’

She takes an extremely creased piece of paper out of her pocket and spreads it out on the table. It’s obviously been folded and unfolded many times, but Edie hasn’t mentioned it up to now. Sure enough, it’s a letter from Harvard, congratulating her on her scholarship. We all stare at it, Edie hardest of all.

‘I still can’t believe it,’ she says. ‘The head says she gave me a great reference from school. And they took into account all the work I’ve been doing over the last couple of years. And my test results were good. But even so . . .’

Liam by now is looking at me.

‘Nonie!’ he says, sounding concerned. ‘You OK?’

‘Fine,’ I say. ‘Just thinking of Edie going off to Boston. Congratulations! Boston! Wow! America! Fantastic! Yaaay!’

I’m wittering. I know it. I just know how much I’m going to miss her. And Jenny. And Crow . . .

Oh my God. Crow’s MIMO meeting was yesterday. She hasn’t called or emailed to tell me about it. Does that mean they offered her a job and she doesn’t want to tell me? Or they said no after all, and she doesn’t want to tell me that either?

Edie coughs and looks embarrassed.

‘Well, actually,’ she says, ‘I’m not going. I’ve already called them to say no.’

‘WHAT?’

We all say it together, including Gloria.

Edie smiles. ‘I haven’t changed my mind since Christmas. Harvard isn’t for me. Nor’s Boston. You knew it all the time, Nonie. I’d hate living so far away from home. And I don’t want to spend my life travelling. I want to work here. In London. I want to be a psychiatrist, I think.’

Gloria sighs and reaches a bony hand out to Edie, who takes it. Edie always did want to fix Gloria for Jenny. If it takes her a whole career to do it, she’ll keep trying.

‘I’m applying to University College London,’ she goes on. ‘I’ll be just down the road from the two of you. If I get in. Crow’ll be pleased. She always said she hated the idea of us all breaking up and going our separate ways. Even though Harvard is amazing, obviously . . .’

She chats on for a bit more, but suddenly I’m not listening. I’m thinking.

‘Excuse me,’ I butt in. ‘I’ve just remembered something. Got to go. Sorry. Great to see you, Gloria.’

And I’m grabbing my bag and going, with Edie looking astonished and Liam following in my wake.

‘What was that about?’ he says as soon as we’re outside.

‘You keep telling me I need to talk to people,’ I say. ‘Well, I need to talk to Crow. Right now. I need to know what she’s going to do. Even if it’s bad news – well, good news for her, obviously – I’ve just got to hear it. And there was something that Edie said . . .’

‘I’ll come with you,’ he offers.

But some things I have to do on my own. I let him kiss me good luck and promise him I’ll let him know what happens. Then he finds me a taxi (he is the perfect boyfriend), and lends me the money so I can get there as quickly as I can.