Henry laughed. ‘Don’t be such a grump! I love it. All the glitter and tinsel and twinkling fairy lights – it’s magical. And in this life, we must take the magic where we can find it. Besides which, if they waited until December, by the time they’d finished it would be time to take it all down again!’

The air inside St Pancras was chilly and seated at his piano, Henry was cosy in a tweed woollen coat, mustard felt beret that matched his customary bow tie, and fingerless knitted gloves.

‘So, my dear – are you all set to meet the mysterious Madame Burova?’

Billie had told Henry about the second letter she had received and today was the day of the rendezvous. She was nervous, excited and wishing that she’d worn more comfortable shoes. The metallic DMs had been an impulse buy, and although they looked great with her bowler hat and the rest of her carefully chosen outfit, the inside seams were rubbing, and she could feel a blister threatening. She sipped her cappuccino and emerged from her cup deliberately sporting a foam moustache. Henry smiled.

‘Nice deflection, but tell me honestly, are you okay?’

Billie wiped her top lip with the back of her hand. ‘Honestly? I’ve no idea. But I have to go. I need to find out what I can. If all else fails, I can always ask her to read my palm. Maybe I’ll get some answers that way.’

Henry’s expression was serious for once. ‘Try not to judge her before you meet her, Billie. I knew her once briefly, a long time ago. She was a good woman.’

Billie was gobsmacked. ‘You never said anything when I told you where I was going. What do you know about her?’

Henry shook his head. ‘Very little. Of course, I know she has a booth in Brighton – it’s on the prom. But I haven’t seen her in person for many years. All I’m saying is don’t think the worst. Wait and see what she has to say.’

Billie finished her coffee, kissed Henry on the cheek and left him playing ‘That Old Black Magic’. She was sure he did it on purpose. Passing the flower stall on the way to her platform, she stopped and, on impulse, bought a posy of yellow roses and purple heather. As she reached the bottom of the stairs the Brighton train was just pulling in and she managed to find a window seat facing in the direction that the train would be travelling. Perhaps it was a good omen.

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