Just before ten a.m. on Saturday, Sloane Sykes asked her roommate if she had a spare pair of riding breeches she could borrow. And a shirt and helmet and gloves, if possible, as hers were still at home, along with the elusive new horse that was due to arrive any day now. Although Jacinta hated riding, her mother had insisted that she have a complete outfit, just in case she changed her mind. This time Jacinta found herself handing over her belongings quite happily.

“You know, if you don’t like to ride, you should just say so,” Jacinta offered.

“It’s not that at all.” Sloane stood admiring her reflection in the long mirror behind their bedroom door. Certainly the outfit suited her.

“Well, there’s no shame in saying what you really think,” Jacinta tried again.

“I love riding and I’m very good at it,” Sloane said, almost too emphatically.

“Okay then, have a good time.” Jacinta pulled on her tracksuit pants and sat down to lace up her shoes. “I’ll see you after training.”

Sloane was halfway out the door when she turned back. “Does your mother come and take you out on the weekends?”

Jacinta looked up and frowned. “You’re kidding, aren’t you? I think your mother knows more about where my mother is from week to week. I haven’t seen her since Christmas.”

“Oh,” Sloane mouthed. “So I guess I won’t be able to meet her anytime soon. My mother was hoping they could have tea together when she comes to collect me for midterm.”

“Well, unless every last one of my mother’s friends suddenly wind up in the hospital or worse, I can pretty much guarantee that I’ll be staying here for midterm, so tell your mother that if she hoped to meet the oh-so-famous Ambrosia Headlington-Bear, she’s going to be sorely disappointed.”

Jacinta picked up her gym bag and pushed past Sloane. She was very glad she wasn’t going riding. Horses weren’t the only thing she found irritating.

Sloane was beginning to wonder what the point of being at boarding school really was. So far, she hadn’t met anyone remotely famous, and her roommate’s mother was turning out to be a huge disappointment. As for being invited away on holidays, she hadn’t any prospects yet. School was okay—the lessons were quite good and the teachers seemed to know their stuff—but what use was it if you didn’t get to meet the right people?

Her mother promised that boarding school would change her life. In fact, both Sloane’s parents had been thrilled when her stepgranny Henrietta had arranged for her and her brother to go to boarding school. The old woman didn’t have any children of her own, so when she married Sloane’s grandfather, Percy Sykes, rather late in life, she inherited Sloane and Septimus as grandchildren. When Percy died last year and left Sloane’s parents his grocery shop with the flat above, they sold the lot quick smart, even though Henrietta was supposed to be able to live there for as long as it suited her. In September’s opinion, Henrietta was both ancient and dotty, so she convinced her husband that the elderly lady would be better served in an aged person’s home. It hadn’t been too hard for them to shuffle her off to a place called Golden Gates. The nurses told September and Smedley that Henrietta kept asking to see her family. But Henrietta didn’t have any other relatives, so clearly, thought September, the old woman was losing her mind!

Sloane had started to wonder if her mother thought she was an inconvenience too, just like Granny Henrietta. She glanced at her watch and went to telephone her mother. September insisted that she call home every day for an update.

“Hello, Mummy.” Sloane sounded less than excited.

“Well, how are you getting on, then? Where have you been invited to?” her mother asked.

“Nowhere. It’s completely dull here and I want to come home,” Sloane nagged. “The girls are all so boring, and they don’t do anything fun. Jacinta told me her mother won’t even be coming to get her at midterm.”

“Well,” said September, changing tack, “try someone else, then. You know the little one’s parents are completely loaded. I think you’ll find they’re richer than the Queen—and most likely related.”

“Good grief, no. She’s the most painful Pollyanna I’ve ever met. She smiles all the time and she’s happy all the time and she never complains about anything, not ever. It’s just not normal,” Sloane grouched. “And when are you sending my horse? I’m going riding today and I have to borrow this horrid little pony—and I had to sponge Jacinta’s riding gear as well. If you want me to fit in here, I can’t be borrowing things all the time.”

“Sloane, you know we can’t afford a horse,” her mother whispered. “What with your grandfather only leaving us such a dreadful, cheap little shop and flat. But don’t worry; your father’s new business is going to be a license to print money. It won’t be long until we can buy you everything you could possibly want. But for now, you know there’s no harm in borrowing. If the girls offer, it would be rude not to.”

Sloane hung up the phone. In her opinion, life simply wasn’t fair.