Greta felt a strange sensation pulling her down, as if into a warm pool of syrup, comforting and cocooning.
Her eyelids grew heavy, and her body slumped as she sank deeper.
And then deeper still.
*
A SLANT OFsunlight cut across the tidy bedroom. Greta opened her eyes and lay still in the sumptuous bed, looking around her and taking in the scene. The cream linen curtains hung neatly, their pleats precise, and the walls didn’t have any scuffs or chipped paint. Everything around her looked immaculate.
Her body felt trim, and when she ran a hand through her hair, it was thick and silky smooth again.
Certain that she was back in Mapleville, Greta let out a relieved, happy sigh.
Not wanting to waste a moment, she sprang out of bed and padded over to the mirror, where she admired her bright eyes and flawless smile.
‘Hello, you,’ she said softly. ‘It’s good to be back.’
A radio sat on the dressing table, and she turned the dial, searching for some pop music to dance around to. Each station played soothing melodies that sounded like elevator music, and all the news was about Mapleville. There was a dog show in the park and a promotion on currant buns in the bakery. A school was hosting a village fair.
‘And the weather today will be dry and sunny,’ the presenter trilled. ‘Don’t forget to start your day with a delicious cup of Maple Gold, folks.’
Greta laughed out loud, feeling like she’d arrived home.
She showered quickly, brushed her hair, and marvelled at how effortless life was here. She didn’t need to pluck her eyebrows, tweeze her chin, or moisturise her knees and elbows. Her whole body felt lighter, as if she’d shed a winter overcoat.
The pink, mint and blue dresses she’d got from Millie’s boutique were hanging in her wardrobe, paired with matching shoes. The pearl necklace sat on her dressing table as well. If she could be in two places at once, she supposed the necklace could, too. Was the real version of it here, with a projected version in Longmill? Or was it the other way around? Greta didn’t linger on the question. She simply picked up the necklace and fastened it around her neck.
Pulling open the curtains, she placed her hands on her hips and breathed in the cordiality and calm. Sprinkler systems hissed on the glistening lawns, and neighbours chatted over garden fences while nursing steaming cups of coffee. A dog and a cat strolled side by side along the street in perfect harmony.
She could hear the a cappella singers in the distance.
Welcome again, to our beautiful town,
life is brighter when you’re around.
You’ll soon find your way and enjoy your day,
this time, are you here to stay?
You’re always at home with Maple Gold.
Greta whistled the tune as she made her way downstairs. She could smell the ever-present aroma of coffee mixed with something else. Perhaps sugar and lemon? It reminded her of her mum’s baking, making treasured memories flood back.
They’d always loved making Victoria sponges together, her mum singing as she spread the jam and cream. Marjorie loved licking the cake mix off the spatula, and Greta could never resist dipping a finger into the icing sugar.
She’d tried several times to get Lottie interested in baking together, but it had never worked.
A sudden clatter in the kitchen made Greta freeze mid-step on the stairs. Her pulse raced, and she cocked her head, straining to listen.
There was someone else in the house.
An unmistakable clang of pans was followed by a muttered word, ‘Drat.’
It was a word Greta hadn’t heard for ages. A burglar wouldn’t saydrat,would they? She doubted theft even existed in this lovely town.
So, who else was here?
She listened out for other sounds, but couldn’t hear anything.
