“Oh well, looks like you can go and have some fun in the Otherworld, anyway,” said Octavia. “I hear they’re all going about like animals now. It was in The Liminal just the other day. They can have cats’ ears if they want! Imagine that!”

“I’ve seen it,” said Effie. “It looks really nice.”

“Pah,” said Octavia. “You young people can do what you like. Put any kind of fashion on me and it would just look ridiculous.”

“I bet you’d suit cat ears,” said Effie. “Maybe white ones.”

“Oooh, do you think?” Octavia looked happy, and fluffed up her hair. “I wonder where you even get them.”

“I think you have to sort of grow them,” said Effie. “They’re very real.”

The door tinkled and Octavia turned to see who had come in.

“Excuse me,” she said to Effie. “I’ll be back with your bun in a minute.”

Effie’s eyes followed Octavia as she went over to the table in the corner, where a blond man was joining the woman with the book. They greeted each other with a kiss on both cheeks and then started speaking in low voices. Effie recognized the switch from English to Rosian and let the voices join the pleasant stream of jazz going into her ears. It was so nice and cozy in here, and so warm, and so safe. For a moment, a tiny moment, all Effie’s problems seemed to fall away. And then she suddenly felt that she was once more on the threshold of the new feeling she’d had in the market. That if she could just relax a tiny bit more she might get that tingling, tickly, joyous sensation back. But as soon as she concentrated on it, the moment passed.

Octavia delivered Effie’s cinnamon bun and hot chocolate but then seemed to have to rush straight back to the kitchen. Effie heard a loud hissing sound and the splash of something boiling over. Octavia Bottle was clearly trying to do Lexy’s job as well as her own.

The couple switched to speaking Milano, which Effie recognized, just, but didn’t understand. “Blah, blah, blah . . .” The burbling of their voices was still pleasant. The woman looked over and so Effie picked up her bun and pretended she wasn’t listening. And she wasn’t planning to listen, either. Why would she? Her bun was as delicious as always. Soft, dense and full of cinnamon, with thick swirls of crisp white icing on the top. Effie savored every mouthful.

But then, among all the unintelligible Milano, Effie heard a word she recognized. “Blah, blah, blah, blah, Diberi.”