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and Gil, cuddling on the bench under an umbrella. Cally and Gil, kissing.
    Her mum had been different these past three weeks.Happy. When Isis got home from school the flat was clean and the windows open. There were cooking smells wafting from the kitchen. Cally sang while she did things, and when the phone rang she ran to answer it. If Isis scrambled across the sofa, getting there first, it was always Gil.
    “Hello, Isis. Can I speak to your mum?”
    No. Go away.
    “Yes, she’s just here.” Handing the receiver to Cally.
    “Gil!” A smile curving Cally’s mouth, her voice softening and filling with laughter.
    I should be happy for her, Isis thought every time.
    But all the years of darkness, all that misery! And now Cally just threw it off, for
him?
The best Isis could manage was a sourish ache. She’d wanted things to change, but this wasn’t what she’d imagined. Now everything was about Gil, even things that weren’t. Like the letter. It had arrived this morning, and was waiting on the doormat when Isis got up. It stood out a mile from the bills and junk mail.
    “Oh!” She ran across the living room, picking it up. A thick cream envelope, addressed to
Calista Dunbar
in careful, flowing handwriting. It looked special, and Isis held it up to the light, but the paper was too thick to see through, and the back was sealed shut, with no way topeek inside. Definitely special, and she couldn’t wait until her mum woke. So she took the letter into Cally’s still-dark bedroom, yanking open a curtain. Daylight blasted over Cally, messy-haired under the duvet. She groaned and held her hands out against the light.
    “What? What time is it?” Her eyes opened in sleepy confusion.
    “Look at this letter for you!” said Isis, holding out the envelope. “Who’s it from?”
    Cally reached out a hand over the scrunched bedding, heaving herself up. She stared at her name on the envelope, frowning as she ripped it open and pulled out a thick sheet of paper. It was neatly scrawled with the same flowing script, and Cally’s pupils darted as she read. A slow, open smile formed on her lips, and she turned the letter over, searching for more.
    “What does it say?” asked Isis, trying to read the back.
    Cally’s eyes were wide. She let out a laugh.
    “I’ve been invited to join the Welkin Society!” She held the letter up, pointing to the signature. “Look! It’s from Philip Syndal himself! He’s really high up in the society – he’s one of the best psychics in the world! His tours are always sold out.” She read aloud from the letter. “
I have
heard extremely exciting reports from your seances, and the committee has agreed to consider you for membership.
” Cally stood up, feet still in the folds of her duvet. “Isis! This is it!” She was dancing with the letter, bouncy and happy on the bed. Isis got on too, jumping about on the squeaky mattress, laughing and holding her mum’s hand.
    Then Cally cried, “I have to ring Gil!”
    And Isis stopped bouncing.
    “He must have spoken to Sondra, he must have sorted everything out!”
    Isis got down off the bed and walked out of Cally’s bedroom, even as her mum was tapping into her mobile phone. From the living room, she could still hear Cally’s excited voice.
    “I just had to thank you for sorting things with Sondra, for getting me invited into the Welkin Society… oh, didn’t you? Well you’ll never guess, a letter arrived from them this morning!”
    They were going to be over at his place in a couple of hours, but Cally couldn’t wait that long.
     
    “Let’s all go to the park!” Cally said when they’d got to Gil and Gray’s house. Like Isis and Gray were five.
    “The weather’s really horrible,” said Isis.
    “It’s only a bit damp.” Cally was smiling at Gil like she couldn’t stop.
    “We could go to the cinema,” suggested Gray, “then you two can snog in the back row.”
    “Gray!” snapped Gil. “When you start paying, you can