“They made me be a pageboy.” Johnny sounded disgusted. He looked down at his miniature three-piece suit with loathing. Lizzie could hardly blame him. It was horribly twee. “I hated it,” he said. “I’m six years old, not a baby.”

Lizzie smothered another smile. “Life lesson, Johnny. People are always trying to make you do stuff you don’t want to do. You have to stand up for your rights.”

“Arthur says sometimes you have to do what other people want to make them happy,” Johnny said.

“That’s true,” Lizzie acknowledged. She wasn’t great at putting other people’s happiness first. She’d had to struggle too hard for her own. She thought Arthur, whoever he was, sounded a proper goody-goody. “It’s complicated,” she said. “Next time, though, ask Arthur whether he’d like to be a pageboy instead of you.”

Johnny giggled. “Arthur’s too big to do that.” He cocked his head to one side. “Did you really see nothing in the crystal?”

“Not a thing,” Lizzie said lightly. She remembered now that Amelia liked all the flaky stuff, though with the amount of drugs she and Dudley took sometimes they didn’t need a crystal ball to see things. Lizzie didn’t do drugs. She’d grown up seeing her father offer Ecstasy to his dinner guests along with coffee and mints. No thank you.

“The crystal called to you,” Johnny said. “I heard it.”

OK, so he was an odd child, Lizzie thought, but then so had she been. She felt a tug of affinity with him.

“I thought I heard a harp playing,” she said, “but it must have been the wind. That must have been the sound you heard too.”

“There’s no wind today,” Johnny said.

“Then it must have been the band,” Lizzie said.

She saw Johnny watching her with those bright blue eyes and thought, He knows. He knows I’m lying. How can he? He’s only six.

“Amelia says that the crystal speaks to her,” Johnny said seriously. “Maybe that’s what you heard. She says it has healing powers.”

“That’s nice,” Lizzie said, wondering how many more of Amelia’s new age philosophies her little brother had absorbed. Not that she could criticise. She might not like possessing woo-woo powers but she could hardly deny they existed.

“Johnny?”

This time they both jumped. A man was crossing the hall towards them, young, tall, unmistakably related to Johnny with the same lean features and dark blue eyes. Where Johnny had ruffled blond hair, this man’s hair, however, was black, and unlike Johnny he looked good in a morning suit. Lizzie thought he also looked familiar and wondered if they had met before. There had been such a crowd in the church, and she knew so many people, but she couldn’t quite place him. Perhaps she’d seen him on a billboard; he looked like a model.

His gaze focused on her and Lizzie saw that he recognised her and, a second later, saw equally clearly, that he did not like her. It was a novel experience for her to be disliked. She worked hard to be sweet and appealing. There was no reason to dislike her.