‘I’m not being funny. Something weird is happening. It feels like I’m having some kind of bad trip. Only I can’t remember taking anything and I don’t know why I’m here, and you’re here, and tiny Meg is wearing school clothes.’

‘Take a deep breath, Evie. You’re okay,’ Ben said, rubbing his thumb soothingly against her palm.

But Evie couldn’t calm herself; her whole body was shaking as her mind scrambled to make sense of what had happened.

‘What can I do? Do you want a cuppa?’ asked Ben.

‘Ben, tea won’t fix this.’

Ben feigned shock. ‘But tea fixes everything!’

‘How old am I?’ Evie asked desperately.

Ben frowned, looking at Evie with real worry. ‘Twenty?’

Evie inhaled sharply. She couldn’t believe what was happening. Ben had been at her thirtieth just a few weeks ago. She started pinching her arm furiously, sure she was about to wake up.

‘Evie, what’s going on? Are you drunk?’

‘What? No!’ Evie said, dropping her arm and resting against the doorframe, trying to steady herself. ‘At least, I don’t think so.’

Her mind raced. Time-travelling was something you read about in novels and saw in films. And when it happened, it felt lovely and coquettish and romantic like in About Time and Time Traveller’s Wife, but this just felt terrifying. This couldn’t be happening to her.

‘Yeah … I’m sorry. Um … I’m okay. I’m just feeling a bit sick—’ she said, coughing. ‘I’m, ah … going to have to skip class today. I have to go back to bed. Do you mind taking notes for me?’

‘Do you want me to stay here with you?’ asked Ben, kind as ever.

Evie shook her head, unable to speak.

When Ben finally left, Evie closed the door and stood still, frozen by shock. Please tell me I am not living with my parents again, she thought, despite the sound of them arguing in the kitchen.

This kind of thing just did not happen outside of films. And even if it did, there is absolutely no way I can go through my twenties again! The stressful decision-making, failed relationships, her parents’ divorce, not to mention the endless hangovers.

Urging herself into action, Evie raced back upstairs to her bedroom and went straight to her wardrobe. She took three deep breaths before tentatively peeling open the door and looking into the lopsided mirror. She gaped at her reflection, her hands flying to the messy fringe she’d immediately regretted having cut after her twentieth birthday—it had taken her forever to grow out. She scanned down her body, taking in her fresher, firmer complexion and slightly narrower frame. Even her posture seemed more upright, less dragged down by responsibility and poor decision-making.

This was definitely not the body she went to sleep with.

This was not happening.

Evie would not let this happen.