Voila,’ Oliver said, handing his mum a plate filled with knobbly orange blobs, flecked with green. He handed her a fork. ‘I’ll be back in a jiffy,’ he said. ‘Start without me.’ Mrs. Jamie scooped some of the food with her fork, and pinching her nose closed, opened her mouth and took a bite. Oliver didn’t notice the flash of white light in the kitchen behind him as he dried his hands in the bathroom. He didn’t notice the deep silence as he made his way back to his favourite room in the house. And nothing could have prepared him for what he found sitting where his mum had sat only a few minutes earlier. ‘Mum,’ he croaked, trembling. ‘Is that you?’ …
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