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He winced. ‘Was it as bad as I think I remember?’

‘It didn’t sound good.’

‘Crap. I guess I need to grovel and apologise as well.’ He sighed. ‘Mimi, could you please send me Amrita’s number?’

‘On its way. Just do me a favour?’

‘Sure.’

‘Try not to annoy her any further. I know you’re not usually antagonistic…’

‘I didn’t try to annoy her the first time.’

‘I think you managed it anyway.’

‘I know. I didn’t mean to, but she went after my designs, Mia.’

‘I know. And I understand how sensitive you get about them – even more so now I know they’re linked to your magic…’

‘I hear a but…’

‘But Amrita’s not usually the type to say things without reason. She’s a brilliant neuro-physiotherapist and great at her job.’

‘That’s what bothers me,’ he admitted. ‘I think she might be right, but I’ve no idea why. Whatever she saw, I’m obviously missing it, and that’s driving me crazy.’

‘Good luck then. And like I said, try not to annoy her any more. She’s great with patients and an all-round lovely person, but I’m not sure she doesn’t scare me a bit! She can be pretty passionate when something grabs her focus.’

‘Yeah, I noticed.’ Jamie rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll do my best, but no promises. At this point, I’m slightly worried that me just existing might be enough to wind her up.’

‘Well, you certainly wind me up some days. Laters, J.’

He was still laughing as she hung up. He took a deep breath and called the number that had just popped up in his messages.

‘Amrita Kapoor.’

‘Hi… umm… Am… I mean…’ The gibbering idiot returned, taking control of his tongue as his magic fritzed on him again. This was not supposed to happen – for the thirty-odd years since his magic had started animating his childhood drawings, his magic had been reliable, solid, and safely confined to the lines he drew – it had never fizzed through his veins like this, making his heart pound and his tongue trip him up.

‘Is it something medical you need?’ Her voice cut through his thoughts. Sort of.

‘No, I mean… yes?’

‘You don’t sound very sure. Can I ask who’s speaking please?’

‘Sorry. It’s Jamie. Collins. We met last week?’

‘Did we?’

‘Yes. At Sylvie Griffiths’.’

‘Oh, right. Mia’s architect friend.’ If she’d said the words stinking manure pile, she couldn’t have sounded less impressed.

‘Yes. That’s me.’ He somehow dragged his thoughts together and convinced his tongue to behave. ‘Listen, I can’t help thinking that I may not have made the best of first impressions.’

‘If you’re waiting for me to disagree, it might be a long wait.’

‘I wasn’t. I was trying to apologise. For being a bit of an arrogant know-it-all architect.’

‘Actually, I think it was an “architect with lofty ideas”. But, in my defence, you were being quite abrasive. And that was before things took a real turn.’