‘You would make a terrible crook, Olivia,’ Miller says seriously.

I allow my muscles to relax as he leads me down the tunnel towards the plane. ‘I don’t want to be a crook.’

He smiles down at me, his eyes twinkling. All signs of the terrified creature have disappeared, restoring my finicky, refined Miller to his former glory. And he really is glorious. I sigh on a long, sated exhale and rest my head on his arm, looking up to see an overly happy stewardess smiling brightly at us. I could growl in exasperation when she asks for our passports and boarding passes. You would think I’d be used to it after the millions of other times they have been requested since we arrived at Heathrow. But no. I’m beginning to tremble again as she flicks through before glancing at each of us to check we match the photograph. I force a nervous smile, convinced she’s going to scream fake and then call for security. But she doesn’t.

She checks the boarding passes and smiles as she hands them back to Miller. ‘First class is this way, sir.’ She gestures to the left. ‘You’ve just made it on time. The captain has ordered us to secure the doors.’

Miller gives a brisk nod, and I turn to see another stewardess pulling the doors shut.

And every drop of blood drains from my head as I glance down the tunnel, towards the departure gate. It’s an illusion; it has to be. My curiosity gets the better of me and I creep forward as the closing door begins to hamper my view, wanting to get as close as I can, blinking the whole time, convinced I’m seeing things.

Then I stop.

I’m rooted to the spot, my mind empty, my blood freezing in my veins.

And I’m staring at me.

It’s definitely me . . . just nineteen years from now.