‘Damn it!’ Evie rolled her head in a full circle before putting it in her hands and wondering what to do next.

She resumed her Googling, trying ‘Psychic’ and ‘Seer’, ‘Maximilian’, ‘London mediums’ and anything else she could think of, but Maximilian was as elusive as ever.

She stretched out on the couch, closed her eyes and wished, more than anything, to return to the future she had not so long ago wanted nothing more than to leave. She racked her brain, and her backlog of movie knowledge, for ways she could skip forward in time. A strong sleeping pill? Freezing herself? DeLorean? Hot Tub? Closet? Enchanted Dust? Magic Clock? Time Turner? Eric Bana?

All of a sudden, it hit her. Like a perverted, body-encompassing reverberation. Of course! The way to return to the future was the same debauched way she’d been sent back to the past in the first place. The problem was, this time, Evie had nobody to help her … release. Hugo was still asleep, and she was hesitant to put it on him after everything that happened last night.

But then, like a comforting lullaby, the words of the great Chrissy Amphlett from the Divinyls came to mind. Evie didn’t need a man to get her off. She was a modern woman, after all! She listened out for any stirrings upstairs, grabbed a blanket and fluffed the pillow behind her head. Reclining on the couch, she screwed her eyes shut, shoved her hand down her pants, and visualised her well-worn fantasy: Hugo lying naked on the bed and calling over to her, ‘Come here, my love.’

Ohhhh. He brushed a slick of hair away from his face and then gave her the most smouldering sex eyes she’d ever seen.

Then, out of nowhere, Evie shot up from the couch. That had never happened before. As she’d melted into the pure visual pleasure of her fantasy, it was Ben, rather than Hugo, who was calling her from the bed.

It must be because of that stupidly adorable card. Let’s try that again.

Evie took a deep breath to relax herself, closed her eyes again, and conjured images of Hugo. But the deeper she got into her imagination, the more Hugo’s face kept transforming into her best friend’s. She tried a different angle, flipping onto her stomach to rest on a pillow; she hit play on the Henrietta’s Gift audiobook in the background, and she even seriously considered going upstairs to watch Hugo sleep so she could really nail the visuals. But every time she let herself unwind, Ben appeared in her mind. So eventually, Evie gave in.