I am back in Alice’s flat, sitting on the bed like nothing’s happened, except that when I check, the package has gone from my bag and the doors are not opening again…
So I am standing there, still not quite believing what I am seeing, when this little guy – I swear the one who gave me Toothless’s number – appears from nowhere, tips his bowler at me while picking up the wrapped package and POP! he’s gone.
‘Right,’ I mutter and grab the brown package. ‘Interesting,’ she smiles as she takes if from me, ‘and have you read this?’ she asks as she turns and heads for the sleek kitchen area.
I am following her now like a dog, my mouth open, trying to rationalise this – I am not quite panting, but nearly. Suddenly she stops, spins, and I nearly walk straight into her cos I am too busy looking around. I stumble; she catches me…
And then, as she claps her hands, the velvet wall drapes part behind her and we are in this amazing loft space – not dissimilar to my own home – well if it was like, bigger… a lot bigger and fancier and bright with great windows looking over the maze of London roof tops...