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that looks like me is moving now; moving quite quickly through puddles. Mr Morlis has picked Miss Mint’s bag off the floor and hands it to me and for appearance’s sake I take it but I keep thinking I’ll wake up in a minute and Miss Mint will want it back so I don’t put it on properly, just hold it.
    She’s standing in front of me now and her hair’s messy, mossy. Frightened eyes, brave mouth.
    “Can we talk?”
    Dad used to laugh when he’d play voicemails I’d left and I’d freak out ‘cos they didn’t sound anything like me. It’s like that, only worse.
    “Yeah.” Only that’s not what Miss Mint would say, I realise. “Yes ... Lisi. Let’s talk.”
    Leaving everyone’s hard, though. The play’s still going strong. Water plays chase down the drains and the sun’s come out and there’s the weirdest cloud shapes happening but although all I want to do is ring Mum and cry, part of me wants to watch the play. I mean everyone else is and I don’t know if I can cope with talking to myself and if I am going to I want to get my head in gear. Miss Mint’s head in gear. I need to think.
    On stage, Olivia and Malvolio are talking.
    “Some are born great ...”
    “Ha!”
    “Some achieve greatness ...”
    “What sayest thou?”
    “And some have greatness thrust upon them.”
    It’s the bit of the play Dad got excited about when I told him we were doing Twelfth Night on the phone. I’ve no idea what it means but I’m utterly and completely scared. The coat I’m wearing is from Reiss and Miss Mint’s engagement ring is on my finger but to be honest, “greatness thrust upon me” is not what I want.
    Olivia is laughing. “Why, this is midsummer madness.”
    Yes, Olivia. Yes, it is.
    * * *
    Olly Goddard lumbers up, acne all wet like it’s spilling off his face and I can see my expression throws him.
    “What’s up, Miss?”
    “I ... Nothing. What can I do for you, Olly?” I’m looking around wildly and then I’m ... Lisi’s ... there.
    “When d’weyaff to be at the coach?”
    He’s chewing. Lisi, aka Miss Mint says, “spit it out,” and without moving his eyes, Olly flicks her a V-sign, thinking I can’t see.
    “Shake-spearmint?” I ask mildly, in Miss Mint’s voice. I move my hands when I speak like I wouldn’t but she would.
    It bloody works. He goes fuchsia and spits in his hand.
    “Miss, I need to see you.” The girl who looks like me sounds stiff and she’s twisting her mouth like I always do. I nod and Mr Morlis is asking with his eyebrows if I’m ok and I give him a thumbs-up which makes him smile and I go with this girl who I will have to call my own name to the cloakroom.
    “Leese, where ya going?” Ignoring the cackling from girls like I should be, like I want to be, I follow.
    She won’t come in the disabled toilet which I know from experience is the best plan if you need to talk privately; in fact, she looks horrified and that look on my face makes me giggle so I can’t breathe. But we find a wide windowsill — wall sill, really — and sit.
    “What’s happened?”
    We say it at the same time but the eyes I’m used to seeing in the mirror shut me up. It’s pure fear.
    Miss Mint, in my body, starts to tremble.
    “Lisi, I have no idea. But this can’t be a dream: we’re both awake, in London, on Monday. And we have to get home.”
    Her beautiful boots are all squidged under me but she doesn’t seem to notice. I stretch my legs out, to admire them; she’s looking beyond me now, at the class of idiots I go to school with.
    “You’ll have to take us home,” Miss Mint says in my voice.
    I know what she means: the coach and everything. We can talk after that: it’s no good now. We’re freezing and so is everyone else. Taking into consideration my drenched friends and at least three people throwing up whelks on the way back, sitting up front with Mr Morlis, who’s really good at taking your mind off things, doesn’t seem a horrible idea to me. Plus Miss Mint