The girl on the sofa to Lily’s left, one of the older children, introduced herself as Morven. She was fifteen, exactly as Lily had guessed. She was tall and broad with paper-white, almost translucent skin. Her mousy hair was tied in a braid that fell down over her shoulder, stopping just above her waist. She looked sensible, like she wouldn’t put up with any nonsense.

Next to Morven was a freckled auburn-haired skinny boy of the same age who called himself Cass. They held hands, and Lily wondered how long it had been that they had relied on each other. Cass looked at Jem with a kind of admiration that Lily had never seen before in the face of a boy or a man, not even Alf, who had always been the most affectionate fellow in Alder Vale. She wondered, for a moment, what it might mean.

Next were the two girls sitting opposite the fire, both of them squeezed onto a single leather armchair. They were small and identical, both with dark skin and heads bursting with bushy ebony curls. They were currently staring, unblinking, at each other, trying to convince the other to speak first. After a few moments of silence, Jem had to intervene.

‘Maeve, you go first please.’

The girl on the left spun her head around to glare at Jem, mortified to have been singled out. Her twin also glared at Jem, looking hurt not to have been chosen. They both looked at each other again, nodded, folded their arms and didn’t say a word. They sat there in protesting silence, until Jem had to give up and turned to Lily. ‘The one on our left, that’s Maeve. On the right is her twin sister, Brenna. They’re seven years old and they’re headstrong and independent, though they may not seem it yet. They will stop being so quiet and shy soon, I promise.’ Jem cast one glance back at them, their frowning faces already having softened. The one on the left, Maeve, caught Lily’s eye and winked. In reply, Lily stuck her tongue out at the girls, who burst into quiet giggles.

Last, there was the other boy that Lily had noticed earlier. He was sitting on the last sofa with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He had hair the colour of sea-soaked sand and sunken, blood-shot eyes. He also looked on the verge of tears. Jem looked to him and smiled with silent encouragement. ‘H-hello,’ the boy stuttered, trying and failing to meet Lily’s gaze. ‘I’m Glenn. I’m eleven.’ He looked down at his knees, clearly reluctant to talk anymore.

Jem wasn’t perturbed by Glenn’s quietness; instead he looked proud. Jem turned to Lily, who had just drained her teacup, glancing at the tea leaves that had formed shapes in the bottom. Alice had always snatched her teacup from her whenever she finished drinking and then would predict something from the myriad patterns. The memory caused an uncomfortable lurch in Lily’s chest, as if her heart had tried to give up beating. Jem must have noticed that Lily had drifted away momentarily, because he placed a light hand on her shoulder. She flinched and immediately regretted it as she felt Jem withdraw his hand, holding it instead in his lap.