Chapter TwelveA girl my age tumbled from the cup, collapsing onto the ground under the stares of our entire party.
‘This is Fei Fei,’ said Mrs O’Connell calmly. ‘She needs activated silver, and fast—or she will die, and it will be my fault.’
‘Not your fault.’ Fei Fei tried unsuccessfully to hide a fit of coughing that made her gasp for breath as tears streamed from her eyes. ‘Anyway,’ she croaked. ‘It’s not so bad as all that.’
Mrs O’Connell scowled at her, and then around the circle at all of us. She was wearing a shapeless gown that struggled to fit her generous shape. Her hair had been scraped back into a bun. In the scuffle it had become a lopsided bird’s nest with strands of blond hair floating around her head as if trying and not quite managing to fly away.
‘Excuse me one moment.
