there she was.
Sitting cross-legged on a single bed piled high with coloured cushions. Wearing a pair of blue penguin-patterned pyjamas, the same that both Cara and Naomi had. She stared over at Pip, her eyes wide and wild. She looked a little older, a little heavier. Her hair was mousier than it had been before and her skin much paler. She gaped at Pip, the TV remote in her hand and a packet of Jammie Dodger biscuits on her lap.
‘Hi,’ Pip said. ‘I’m Pip.’
‘Hi,’ she said, ‘I’m Andie.’
But she wasn’t.