“Hello, arsehole.” Saffi said languidly to Tristram as she came into the lounge room, having returned from school.
The small log cabin style house felt spacious because the lounge, kitchen, entry and dining spaces were open to each other under a high, pitched ceiling. The pine panelling contributed to the rustic feel of the house.
“Why am I an arsehole?” Tristram asked casually, not looking up from his book.
Saffi shrugged. “Because you got a day off school. How was being suspended? You’re not ‘Pope Tristram’ anymore now, eh?”
Tristram smiled. He got along a lot better with his sister now that they had reached their early teenage years. Saffi was very funny and Tristram was slowly learning to lighten up. Furthermore, they had an interest in each other’s friends.
Saffi had developed a
