I slam to a halt in the hall, reaching behind me to close my art studio door and trap the shimmering black mist inside. William’s feet are planted on our black and white checked lino. His toy monkey hangs from his neck and those toddler hands dig into hips. There isn’t time for this.
‘Don’t tell Jacq about the mist, okay? She won’t leave if she knows, and she must go. It’s her destiny. I’ll explain when she’s gone.’
William appears torn between wanting to annoy me and assisting the sister he hero-worships. He nods before I get impatient, letting me weave past to the lounge. On the way, I whack his short-arse face with my Edwardian walking skirt. The beige fabric is enlivened by colourful birds and my wraparound blouse matches its teal leaves. I’m pleased with how my eyeshadow brings out the birds’ russet feathers.