Nineteen Lottie’s mum answered the door, her big owl glasses poking around the gap. She looked – and dressed – exactly the same as she did when I was eleven. “Evie? Is that you, darling? I haven’t seen you since you were yay high.” She opened the door and Amber and I pushed past the beaded curtain, setting off five wind chimes as we did so. “How are you, Ms Thomas?” I asked as she pulled me in for a hug. She smelled of hemp – I think. I’d never really smelled hemp before. I was proud of myself for remembering the “Ms”. Lottie’s mum always refused to be called “Mrs”, despite being married. “I’m good.” She released me then waved her hand around my body – cleansing my aura. Yep, just like when I was eleven. I remembered then why I used to be scared of going round. “And this must be Amber.” She pulled her in for the hug treatment and Amber’s hair practically obliterated Ms Thomas’s face.
