29Happy Ending?‘Let’s hope we never see Leo again,’ Milo said as he and Olivia made their way out of the garden. ‘I’ll keep an eye out in case he follows us.’Olivia nodded quietly. Her mind was far away – on those mornings when the sun would peek through the cracks of her turret shutters and she’d wake to see Ephemia staring solemnly at her from the next pillow. Or the times when she was little, playing court with her dolls and the nutcracker, Count Ostroff; she was queen and Ephemia was her lady-in-waiting wearing a doll’s apron as a robe. It was a magical time, and now –‘Are you all right?’ Milo asked.Olivia shook her head. ‘Ephemia. She’ll never . . . we’ll never . . .’ Her eyes swam; she took a deep breath. ‘I’ll be all right. Once this is over I can grieve.’ She looked over her shoulder one last time, to see the garden where she’d lost her oldest friend. ‘Milo.’He turned as well. ‘What?’The garden behind them was now of normal size; the tallest tulip would hardly touch their knees and the lilac bushes were trimmed the height of their waists.‘I recognise this garden,’ Olivia said.
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