Law # 2. Use magic with only goodwill for others. This means you’re not allowed to hurt people with magic. Even if they are your sworn enemy. As Mum has said hundreds – or very possibly thousands – of times: ‘Magic has come to us to uphold the forces of good.’

Law # 3. Magic must never be used to change the natural order. For instance, if a kookaburra has caught a mouse, you must not use magic to save the mouse, no matter how pitifully it squeals. Of course, it’s fine to save things without using magic, like the flies I rescue from spider webs. And Mum uses magic all the time to cook and clean, which – thankfully – must mean that cleaning by hand is not part of the natural order. I can’t remember the last time Mum swept or washed up. She just waves a finger at the sink and the dishes are left sparkling. We call it ‘house magic’. The other day, Dad insisted on washing the dishes by hand. ‘I wouldn’t want to forget how to do it, darling,’ he said as he rummaged under the sink for detergent.

Law # 4. There are consequences if you break a law. What you send out will always come back. For instance, Mum once dissolved a thunderstorm that was heading our way when we were about to set up the big top. The next day she came down with a terrible cold that infected half the circus, so we had to cancel performances for a whole week.

Law # 5. No-one can be taught big magic until they are sixteen. I’m pretty sure Mum made this one up – but I don’t know why. She’s taught me some of the theoretical stuff, like how magic is linked to nature, but that’s it.

Outside our van, Mum drops into her chair and lets out a huge sigh. Dad opens the van door and says, ‘Couldn’t you have done something, Merry? You know …’ he grins and wiggles his fingers in the air.

‘What? A spell?’ she asks, trying to hide a smile. ‘And what exactly did you have in mind, sir?’

‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘A little something to erase his nastiness or make him forget that he’s inherited the circus. At the very least you could have given him a pounding headache.’

She shakes her head. ‘I wish. You know the kinds of consequences I’d cop if I did that.’

‘Yes, I know,’ he says, stepping inside the van. ‘Where’s that lemony cordial you made?’

‘Lemon balm? Top shelf.’ Mum points and one of the bottles spits out green sparkles. She’s fond of using sparkles to draw our attention to things. Apparently, everything in the world is energy, and in this case, she’s changing the energy in the air around the bottle.