I remember shouting Sylvie’s name – in my head – while Claudie was in the bakery. ‘It wasn’t you I was calling. It was my Sylvie. And I called her inside my head.’

She smiles. ‘Well, I heard you because you called my name. A skilled magician can hear a cry for their help even if it’s not out loud.’

‘But where were you?’ I ask as Sylvie pours milk into three cups.

‘In my upstairs apartment, opposite Merry’s shop.’ ‘Her name is Meredith,’ I say. ‘And she doesn’t know you live there, does she?’

Sylvie shrugs. ‘I’ve tried to contact her but she won’t have anything to do with me. The poor girl has given up on magic, and you can see how unwell it makes her. So pale, so thin. It’s terribly unwise for a magician to shut down her magic.’ She glances at Mum with a frown. ‘Or to have it shut down for her.’ She pours us each a cup of tea and sits at the table. ‘I have a proposal for you.’

‘I bet you do,’ says Mum grimly.

‘Don’t go back. Stay. Work with me. The three of us could make the best magic act the world has ever seen.’ Her eyes glitter with excitement. ‘We could have a beautiful house, skiing holidays, designer clothes, and –’

‘You just want power, Mum. Admit it,’ says my mum.

She gives a small smile. ‘Yes, that’s true. But just think about it. The three of us together could be one of the most powerful magical forces the world has seen. Imagine what we could achieve!’

‘No way!’ I say. ‘Dad’s waiting for us.’ How can she think that we’d want to stay? She doesn’t understand anything.

‘I’ll go and get your dad and bring him back,’ she says, smiling. My stomach churns. Something feels very wrong here.

‘No. Just no,’ says Mum.

‘And what are you doing back in your universe, Merry?’ asks Sylvie. ‘You’re not still with Potts’s pathetic little circus, are you? With your talent, you could perform anywhere in the world. London, Las Vegas, Monte Carlo … I know people who would snap us up. Three generations in one act.’ She grins and makes a flourish with her hands. ‘Marvellous!’

‘If you won’t help us get back to London, then Tulsi and I are leaving,’ says Mum.

‘No, you’re not,’ says Sylvie mildly.

The door, of course, has been locked with a spell.

Mum glowers at her mother, speaks a spell and the door opens. She ushers me through the doorway, but as I step over the sill, I smash hard into something invisible.

I stagger back into Mum. ‘Ow!’ I touch my nose and there’s blood on my fingers.