For a little while, I just stand there by the well. I don’t really know what to say. That was certainly not what I expected to happen – I keep running into Felix Taylor, and every time he never fails to surprise me.

I shake my head again, smiling, as I heave my jug off the cobblestones and head for home. Icy water splashes my already-sore fingers, bitingly cold in the swiftly fallen night. The scorching weather in the daytime disappears so suddenly; you can burn and freeze in the space of a few hours.

My house is gloriously warm, enveloping me like a favourite blanket as I step inside. I take a deep breath, savouring the smell of roses that lingers in my hair and clothes after work and comes off on everything. I don’t know if I’ve ever liked somewhere I’ve lived this much before – there have been so many lovely places, but my little cottage feels like home in a way few others have. It’s a bungalow, with a living room, kitchen, bedroom and study leading off from the hall, and a tiny outdoor toilet. Each room has a colour scheme - the sitting room is green and bronze, the study light yellow, my bedroom blue and silver. All throughout, I’ve given my own touch to the furniture and skirting boards, carving scenes from fairytales and myths into the smooth amber wood. 

It wasn’t much to begin with - nothing more than a draughty hut that radiated despair and poor plumbing - but now it’s somewhere I can genuinely relax and live my life without getting dragged down by things I can’t change. And magic just may have had something to do with its sudden miraculous revival…

I sink into one of my armchairs, curling my fingers around a chipped ceramic cup of honeyed milk. (The mug is probably at least half a century old. I can’t get rid of it, but in all honesty it’s seen better days.) I take a sip of the steaming liquid, blowing on it to cool it down. It feels odd, to be sweating through everything I’m wearing in the scorching daytime and snuggling up with a warm drink in the glacial evenings. It’s not entirely unpleasant, sort of the best of both worlds. I’ve only experienced weather like this once before, and I’d rather not speak about where it was. Bad memories.

At that, I suddenly realise I haven’t had a flashback since I met Felix at the well. My head is wonderfully clear, free from the barrage of my past. It’s glorious. I have absolutely no idea why this is – but I’m not complaining. It’s like being held underwater for so long, and my head is finally above the mirrored surface. 

I look down at the face, the features slowly softening into Felix’s slightly upturned nose, bright blue eyes and big goofy grin. 

Oh, not again…