MAGIC IN THE mundane can be difficult to find, but it is always waiting patiently somewhere, snuffling quietly, curled up like a sleeping animal and ready to be found by those searching hard enough. Flat 31 was one such enchanted place. Small and shadowed, with wonky cupboard fronts that didn’t quite fit properly and a temperamental back right hob ring that had needed fixing for months, the kitchen inside was nevertheless filled with magic. Every inch of it was covered with the stuff, from the heap of used teabags on the drainer to the mixing bowl in the corner. Even the butter dish was
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