When I got back home, rushing along the empty back lanes, nearly out of breath, I found the house empty. Mum was still out, and I was happy about it, I needed a few moments to collect myself.

I raised my eyes to the large mirror hanging on the wall above the narrow table by the front door, as I put my keys on its smooth, marble surface. Shaking my head at my reflection, I remembered, with a shiver, the strange sensation I couldn't shake off while I had been outside. I had felt... as if I had been watched, followed by someone I could not see... You are going mad, I mouthed at myself now.

Taking a calming breath and pushing the strange feeling away, I removed my shoes and took the fox's food into the kitchen, stirring Lily's curiosity when I approached the cabinet containing her dog food.

Seeing that the fox wasn't in the garden at the moment, I donned my now dry slippers by the back door and walked outside to recover its plate, mum's tiny dog in tow. Kicking the slippers off, wet again, as soon as I re-entered, I went to rinse the plate into the adjacent utility room, where Mum kept the washing machine and the dryer. I left it there, next to Lily's bowls, ready for the following morning.

My washed clothes were still inside the dryer but already dry, so I decided to carry them into my room; Lily, surprisingly, following me up the stairs. Feeling too tired to fold the washing and put it away, I dumped it all in my reading armchair, placed by the window overlooking the garden.

Finally, I removed my coat and the skirt and spread them to dry over the back of the armchair. They were both damp from my stroll in the melting snow. The skirt was so long that its hem, sweeping the ground as I walked, was completely drenched. Even the leggings I was wearing underneath got wet from touching it. Lia is right, floor-length skirts are not among the most practical clothes for winter in London, I mused. I'll need more of them, so I have at least one clean and ready to wear at all times.

I changed into a clean and dry pair of grey leggings, which I grabbed from one of my drawers, then sat on my bed. Yawning, I watched Lily jump up next to me and settle down in the bottom corner of the bed. She usually did this with Mum, but never with me. I raised my eyebrows at the fluffy creature in a silent enquiry, but she ignored me, sighing contentedly and closing her eyes. And I was feeling too tired to argue with a dog.

It's only lunchtime, how can you be so exhausted? You've become too lazy over the year spent in the castle, I scolded myself.

Lazy or not, there was nothing urgent for me to do at the moment, so I could take a nap. I needed my book, though, I wanted to hold it, to keep it close to me.

I went back to the window and took it out of the handbag, which I had buried under my clean clothes. On a second thought, I grabbed my phone, too. You must let Lia know that you booked the table, I thought, crawling under my quilt, careful not to disturb the sleeping dog. But I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow, before I could compose the text, curled around the book, my quilt covering me up to my chin.

I woke up to the sound of voices coming from downstairs. The room was dark, illuminated only by a wedge of weak light making its way in from the corridor, through the door standing ajar. The dog was gone, I noticed, surely it had abandoned me as soon as Mum had arrived...

"Come on in!" Mum invited someone. "You might need to wake her up; she has slept the whole afternoon. I'm off. Just tell Samara that I'm out with Julian, please. I left her a note on the kitchen table. Thank you, and have fun, girls."

"Thanks, and have a nice evening too, Mrs. Marlowe." Lia's voice was followed by a low thud and a soft rattle of the panes of stained glass when she closed the front door.

I sat up slowly, feeling stunned from the long sleep, listening to my friend unzipping her jacket and removing her shoes, then running up the stairs.

"Did you book us the table? You never replied to my texts! Are you all right? And aren't you a bit too old for that quilt?" Lia flipped the switch by the door, flooding me with light and questions as soon as she entered my room. She was sitting on the bed next to me even before I could gather my wits and open my mouth to start responding.

"Lia, slow down. And don't shout, my head hurts," I begged her, bringing my hand to my forehead, to shield my eyes from the strong light. "Why are you even here? Weren't we supposed to meet by the pond..."

"As I've already said, you haven't read my texts. I've been worried. And, you really are old for a Harry Potter blanket. You and this 'Always'. Just how many times is that silly word repeated on this quilt... what does it mean again? It has a 'deep' meaning in that story, you told me..." Lia trailed off, grinning.

"Lia, you're annoying. Read the books yourself and leave me alone. You've seen the movies with me, you know the story. You're just making fun of me again."

"Come on, Sam, sorry, you always get so serious and passionate, and... funny when you explain Snape's endless, undying love." She giggled.

"Lia! Just because you don't believe in love, let alone endless, or undying, it doesn't mean such a thing doesn't exist!" I exclaimed, feeling my exasperation rise. Lia's talk of never-ending love was taking my mind to dangerous grounds, fast. I couldn't afford to talk about love now, as for me, the word had become a synonym of the name of the man I knew I could not think about, not without starting to cry.

Feeling the corners of my eyes starting to prickle with tears I didn't want to shed now, I continued, "If you want me to go out with you tonight, you must give me something for my headache and wisely remain silent until it passes."

Lia laughed. "So you did book us a table!"

"Of course. I meant to send you a text, but I fell asleep. My head is killing me, and I just feel... drained, most of the time."

"Hmm... How interesting."

Standing up, I rolled my eyes at her.

"I left my bag downstairs. And your mum said she had left you a note in the kitchen. Let's go down, and I'll give you Paracetamol for your head," she proposed.

"I need something stronger than that, Lia."

"Nope. No way."

"Whatever, I have no energy left to argue with you. Just give me a moment," I said, walking towards the pile of my washed clothes, to get my green skirt. I wanted to keep the grey one for work tomorrow. "I need the bathroom, then we go down."

"No jeans?" Lia asked, watching me walk past her again on my way out of the room.

"Never again," I mumbled, exiting the room.

When I got back, I found my quilt straightened nicely, and my Dracula laid on top of my pillows. Lia is more of an order freak than mum, I thought, reaching for the book.

"Do you always carry it around with you?" Lia asked from the armchair where she was folding down my clothes. "And you forgot to put make-up on again."

"Lia! I'll do that myself later. Let's go," I said, grabbing my handbag and sliding the book inside carefully, then switching off the lights.

"What about the book?" she insisted as she reached me in the corridor.

"Yes, I do carry it in my handbag, and no, I didn't forget about the make-up. I just don't want to wear any," I said, sighing impatiently. My best friend could be extremely tiring sometimes.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Lia declared, assuming her perfect Alice in Wonderland expression, making me laugh as usual. With her long blonde hair and the big, curious eyes, she could pass for little Alice anytime.

"So what have you done today?" Lia asked as we descended the stairs and headed for the kitchen.

"Slept, mainly. I just went out for half an hour this morning to book us the table at Luigi's." I told her distractedly while I skimmed through Mum's note.

Lia walked across the large room to caress Lily, who slept in her nest of pillows and blankets by the back door.

"Your mum said she was going out with Julian. Who is he? You should have seen her; she was wearing that silk and lace princess dress. The burgundy one she never wants to lend you. And I bet that there were new highlights in that strawberry blonde mane of hers," Lia informed me, smiling.

"Julian is her painting teacher," I said, feeling confused. "Yesterday she spent the whole afternoon cooking for Dad, and today she goes out with Julian..."

"Well, maybe she's finally had enough of your father's behaviour. You said yourself it hasn't been smooth between them lately," Lia said.

"That's true." I shrugged. "As long as they are both happy..."

"Well said, Samara. You shouldn't worry about them; they're the more experienced adults here. Hopefully, they know what they're doing. Let me get you your pill, and then let us go out, I'm getting hungry," Lia said, walking out of the kitchen to retrieve her handbag.

She was right. My parents had to make their own decisions and live their own lives. I had enough problems with solving my own life at the moment, without trying to fix theirs.

We are all old enough to deal with the consequences of our actions, I thought, taking the Paracetamol from Lia's proffered hand only to please her, knowing it wouldn't help anyway.

Realising that I had left my coat upstairs, I wore my green jacket again. It needs to be washed, too, I thought, noticing a few stains left by the long journey to Romania and back. Don't think! I ordered myself, reaching for a scarf as I remembered how cold it had been outside in the morning, then ushering Lia out of the door and locking it.

Lia laced her arm through mine and dragged me down the road towards the river, refusing to walk through the maze of empty and dark lanes, which I preferred.

Despite the cold weather, the streets of the village were filled with traffic and people, as on every Saturday night. Some of them, all dressed up for their night out, were waiting for buses which would take them to other, livelier parts of London, full of cinemas, theatres or clubs. Others, like us, were simply strolling along the river bank before going for dinner to one of Barnes' pubs or restaurants.

When Lia and I finally reached Luigi's, a small, lively, shabby-chic Italian restaurant by the pond, I was exhausted from answering all the curious questions my friend kept shooting at me. She was tireless and became more intrigued by every answer I produced. Lia was definitely getting at something, but I couldn't really tell how much of the truth she would be able to guess.

I smiled when I saw her pulling out a notebook and a pen from her handbag, the moment we were seated at our usual table overlooking the picturesque pond.

As always, my eyes were attracted by the breath-taking view behind the glass, making me forget Lia momentarily. The bright lights of the village, spreading on the other side of the pond, were reflecting on its surface and growing into shimmering spirals on their way towards us, across the water now agitated by light wind and the movement of numerous ducks and geese.

Reluctantly, I tore my gaze away from the flickering, distorted lights adding so much beauty to the atmosphere of the little restaurant, and forced myself to look at my friend, who was still scribbling.

Lia never went out without her notebook, and I knew it was full of her notes on what she considered the most strange, curious cases, illnesses, conditions, and situations she encountered. Apparently, I had become one of them as well.

I'm not sure that's something to be proud of, though... I mused, giggling, as I finally removed my jacket, making Lia look up at me enquiringly.