‘DOWN, DOWN, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began talking again. “Dinner —”’

‘Dinah,’ said Sidney, correcting Aubrey.

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t keep apologising.’

‘OK. Sorry. “Dinah’ll miss me very much tonight, I should think!” (Dinah was the cat.) “I hope they’ll remember her …” What’s this word?’

‘Saucer.’

‘“… her saucer of milk at teatime. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are no mice in the air, I’m afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that’s very like a mouse, you know.” This doesn’t make sense.’

‘Keep going.’

‘“But do cats eat bats, I w…”’

‘Wonder.’

Aubrey slapped her forehead. ‘I can’t do this. I can’t do anything.’

‘Yes, you can. You’re far more intelligent than most adults I know.’

She slumped back on the sofa, sighing a sigh too heavy for a child. ‘This is a book for little kids.’

‘That’s not true either. It’s one of my favourites, even now. I’ve read it so many times, I know it almost by heart, but every time I notice something new.’

Aubrey looked out the big living-room window. A woman, holding a daisy-patterned parasol, walked a fluffy white dog past.

‘It’s good for reading practice — lots of made-up words you can’t just guess. Dr Seuss is good too.’

‘My mum says Dr Seuss is bad for learning.’

‘Just keep going.’

Aubrey turned back to the gilt-edged pages, and struggled through chapter one.

‘We might need to think of some mnemonics.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Little tricks to help you remember hard words.’ Sidney took the brown-leather book from her. ‘We can have a go at that next time. How about I read for a bit now?’

Aubrey tucked her legs under her and moved closer. Sidney steeled herself for the sensation of cold worms in dirt, but there was only warmth and the smell of green apple.

‘Alice took up the fan and gloves, and as the hall was very hot, she kept fanning herself all the time she went on talking: “Dear, dear! How queer everything is today! And yesterday things went on just as usual. I wonder if I’ve been changed in the night? Let me think: was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I’m not the same, the next question is, Who in the world am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle!”’ Sidney looked up; Aubrey was cuddling a cushion and smiling as though she’d never been read to before.

‘“I’m sure I’m not Ada, for her hair goes in such long ringlets, and mine doesn’t go in ringlets at all; and I’m sure I can’t be Mabel, for I know all sorts of things, and she, oh! she knows such a very little! Besides, she’s she, and I’m I and …”’ Sidney frowned, and stopped reading.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. Just a little headache.’ She rubbed her temple. ‘Why don’t you finish this chapter at home?’ She marked the page with the bound-in satin ribbon, closed the book, and placed it on the coffee table.

‘Was Lewis Carroll on drugs?’ Aubrey said.

‘I don’t think he could have written such an intricately woven story while on drugs, do you?’

Aubrey shrugged.

‘The Alice books seem mad and random, but they’re not. Through the Looking Glass is based on the moves of a chess game. Do you have a copy of Wonderland at home?’

‘No.’

Sidney walked across to the bookshelf and selected an orange-and-white Penguin Classics edition. ‘Maybe you could borrow a talking book from the library and listen while you read.’

‘Mum says talking books are cheating.’

Sidney sighed inwardly. A cyclist in lizard-green lycra pedalled past, heading towards the velodrome.

‘Did you write this?’ Aubrey said, looking inside the old book. ‘To dear A. With love from S.’

Sidney smiled; she’d forgotten all about that. Loud knocking on the door made her jump.

Aubrey’s mother — sneakers, navy pencil skirt, white blouse, high heels poking out of a satchel handbag, crossed arms. ‘Aubrey here?’

‘Hi, I’m Sidney.’

‘Sarah.’

Sidney held out her hand and shook Sarah’s before she had time to recoil. Cold worms in dirt.

Aubrey rushed to Sidney’s side. ‘I thought you were working late.’

‘Not tonight,’ Sarah said with a smile that made no attempt to reach her blue-green eyes. The mask of weariness on her still-youthful face reminded Sidney of Faye.

‘Sidney was just helping me with my homework.’

‘Dinner’s ready.’

‘Don’t forget the book, Aubrey.’ Sidney left the Penguin on the table and handed Aubrey the collector’s edition instead.