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armchair; the generous wings gave her something to rest her head against. It was gloriously comfortable and within seconds her eyes shut. She was having a hazy day dream, halfway between sleeping and waking, when a sudden rush of cool air woke her up. It was as if an external door had been opened and then closed on a cold day. The cold air dissipated quickly in the warmth of the room. Katie looked at the door and the window but they were both still shut. Besides, it was so muggy outside that you couldn’t get a cold draught without an air-conditioning unit. The smell of pipe smoke made her sit up and look around again. There was nobody there, but she would’ve sworn that someone had just lit a pipe. Her grandpa had smoked a pipe and she remembered the rich, almost-sweet tobacco smell, utterly distinct from cigarettes. No matter, Zofia would still go mad. She had a hatred, not for smoking especially, but for guests that didn’t obey the rules of the hotel. Was really funny about it, actually. Katie thought about going to find the perpetrator, but then sank back into the cushions. She was too tired.
    Another blast of cold air forced her up and out of the chair. She was shivering, now, and every hair on her bare arms was standing up. The smell of smoke was stronger, the sweetness no longer comforting, but sickly. Katie felt as if someone were actually blowing pipe smoke directly into her face. She held her breath and looked wildly from side to side, narrowing her eyes as if that would help her to see.
    Nothing. There was nothing in the room. Nothing and nobody. She was just tired. The door opened suddenly and a teenage boy and his father walked in, arguing loudly. The father stopped speaking abruptly when he saw Katie.
    She plastered on her work smile and swept past them into the warmth of the reception hall. Katie stamped on the feeling that she’d just been rescued and went outside into the sunshine. She took several deep breaths, banishing the pipe smoke with the scent of freshly cut grass.
    *
    Katie had been visiting her aunt Gwen at End House on a Tuesday night since she was fourteen. They’d missed sessions, of course, for birthdays and holidays and when one of them was sick, but for seven years it had been a constant in her life. Pushing open the gate and hearing its familiar squeak and the thick scent of lavender as she walked up the path soothed her nerves. Things might not be perfect, but they weren’t terrible, either. She’d decided that she wouldn’t tell Gwen about passing out. It was probably because of the heat and the shock of finding Mr Cole and she was fine now. It would only worry Gwen and that was something she never wanted to do. Not again.
    She could tell Gwen about her bad dream, though, and the weird feelings would go away; a problem shared and all that. And if not, Gwen might be able to give her a spell to make sure she didn’t dream about Mr Cole again.
    Cat jumped down from the garden wall and began winding around her feet. Katie bent to pet him and heard raised voices from inside the house. Gwen and Cam were in the kitchen and the back door was open, probably to let air through.
    ‘It’s not my fault,’ Cam was saying.
    ‘Are you saying it’s me?’
    Katie straightened up quickly. She shouldn’t be listening; this was private. She wanted to announce her presence but couldn’t make herself call out. She felt weirdly guilty even though she hadn’t done anything wrong. Cat ran on ahead, squeezing through the gap in the door, making it swing open.
    ‘I want this just as much—’ Cam broke off as the door moved.
    ‘Hello!’ Katie called in a cheery voice. ‘I’ve brought ice cream.’
    Gwen was standing with her back to the sink, her face drawn and unhappy. Cam was at the opposite end of the kitchen. He smiled at Katie but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘Mint?’
    ‘Yep. And dulce de leche.’ Katie unloaded her bag onto the table, not looking at Gwen or Cam. After he’d