Lizzie shook her head. “You sound a lot more comfortable with all this stuff than I am,” she said. “But seriously, I don’t really like feeling different, so I tend to push it aside and try to ignore it. It’s a bit of a guilty secret. Or it was,” she amended, “before Arthur and I had our moment. Now I guess it’s not secret anymore.”

Johnny was smiling too. “Don’t worry about Arthur,” he said. “He’s totally fascinated by you even if he’d like to deny it.” He stretched. “Besides, there’s no need to be uncomfortable about supernatural stuff. It’s a bit weird but then so is dark matter or string theory or whatever.”

“I suppose,” Lizzie said, wondering what string theory was. “How did you get to be so wise so young?” she added.

“I must have been born that way.” Johnny shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “Anyway, I’m weird too. Millie and I were psychic.”

“You and Amelia had a psychic connection?” Lizzie felt surprised then wondered why she would be. Perhaps it was because Amelia’s interest in the supernatural had always seemed fake. But then, she supposed she had rather unfairly dismissed Amelia as fake in every respect. She should try to be less judgemental, especially since she hated people judging her.

“Yeah,” Johnny said. “Millie and I had a gift. We could talk to each other in our heads. We’d always done it, right from as early as I can remember.” He shifted in his seat, clasping his hands together around the mug of chocolate. “Mum was totally into paranormal stuff so it never seemed strange to me, just natural, you know?”

Lizzie didn’t really know. Her experience had been very different, hiding her gift of psychometry from her father, from Kat, especially from Bill, who would probably have tried to turn her into a stage psychic if he had known about it. She had pushed it aside and kept it as a secret thing; she had been confused and almost ashamed of something that seemed so bizarre. She was already different; the child from the outrageously dysfunctional family. She didn’t want anything else marking her out.

“It was just Millie and me, though,” Johnny went on. “The other sibs couldn’t do it—Anna and Arthur, I mean. Millie and I were the only ones who could read each other’s minds. Anna was really cross that she wasn’t telepathic too.” He was hunched forward now and the line of his shoulders was thin and tense. “I guess that was why Millie and I were the closest,” he said, “although I love Arthur dearly. He’s the best.” He said it quite unselfconsciously and Lizzie’s heart clenched.

He loves you too, she thought, but she didn’t say.

“Shall we go through into the other room?” she asked. “It’s more comfortable there.”

Johnny got up and followed her through to the living room. Like most people he was drawn to the huge floor-to-ceiling windows like a moth to a flame. It was night outside now and the pinprick lights of London together made a tapestry of dazzling hues.