Amelia was stacking her packets of Lebkuchen, roasted almond brittle and marzipan sweets on the makeshift counter of her stall. She tried not to check her watch for the umpteenth time. Ella had left for the lot more than an hour before and neither hair nor hide of her had been seen since. She hadn't even been on her phone, according to the "last seen" time stamp. It's not that Amelia was worried. On the contrary, she was excited.
The dream always started the same way: she was searching for something. She never knew what she was looking for, but the sense of urgency about finding it would not let her stop. Once she found herself in the maelstrom of a crowd, looking at people's feet until two clogs appeared. Another time desert dunes undulated before her eyes until she spotted an oasis beyond the mirage. Now she was looking at hats at the races: some were garish, others demure. The dull clip of hooves on the grass grew louder in her head and when she thought she might scream, she saw him, in his trilby, holding a single white rose.
There's no way to avoid it, Jocelyn thought, as she stumbled through the crowd. All around her were people with lifeless eyes in pursuit of something. Was it happiness? A way out? She couldn't tell. But she knew that if she was to survive the ordeal, she'd have to leave soon. Except there was one more thing on her list that she needed: a gift for Mr D. She closed her eyes and steeled herself as her body and bag was jostled by passers-by, seemingly on similar, perhaps more important, missions.
