Evie was completely unnerved. Having barely slept a wink after their sitting-room confrontation, Evie couldn’t get Chloe’s words out of her head. Her accusations and Hugo’s devastation played on repeat in her mind. Evie tried to relate on some level. She remembered how she’d imagine exacting the worst kinds of revenge on Ever-Ready Freddy after he let her down time after time. But unlike Chloe, she would never have seriously considered following through.

Evie checked the time on her phone, careful not to wake Hugo. It was 9am; he was bound to be asleep for a little while longer. She slipped out of bed, grabbed her phone, dressing gown and slippers and went downstairs.

It was raining and dark—the day could easily be confused for night. Some Christmas this is turning out to be, Evie thought as she wallowed on the couch and tried to force her mind to go blank. She felt itchy, trapped in this decade. Everything had started to feel so complicated; so unreasonably confusing. It was like being locked in one of those kitsch Escape Rooms.

She suddenly felt a fervent need to figure out how to get back to the future. Having an escape route would literally solve all her problems. The only issue was, she had no idea how to track down the elusive man who’d got her into this whole damn mess in the first place.

Grabbing her laptop from her study and returning to the couch, Evie started Googling. Many months ago, she had tried to track down Maximilian, but he’d had absolutely no internet presence. Remembering where she had seen him last, she quickly did some digging, locating the catering company from the charity event. She wasn’t hopeful of an answer when she remembered it was Christmas day, but after ringing three times a woman picked up the line. Evie could hear her chewing gum impatiently.

‘Hello, can I please speak to Maximilian?’ Evie asked politely.

‘Er, sorry. No one by that name works with us,’ the woman replied, the sound of plates clashing in the background drowning out her chewing.

‘He definitely works there! He served me champagne at a charity gala not that long ago. He works as a psychic in his spare time. He’s short and a little spooky. You know?’

‘Um, no. I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone “spooky”,’ the woman replied, sounding miffed.

‘No. Not spooky. More, like, mysterious,’ Evie said quickly, struggling to find the right words to describe the man who had turned her life upside down. ‘He talks in riddles; he’s possibly a film fanatic? Surely you must know him!’

‘Look. I’m sorry, we have hundreds of casual workers, it would be impossible to work out who you’re talking about,’ the woman said, not sounding sorry at all. ‘Thanks for calling Tony’s Tasty Catering. Have a tasty day!’ she said chirpily before hanging up.