Mum and I run into the ring to deafening applause. I stand on the silver star we cut from cardboard and, in my mind, say the disappearing spell. I say it in Welsh, even though I don’t have to, because it reminds me of Efa and Carys and Eunice and all my ancestors.

Soon, I am in the familiar tearing wind and cold, but I’m steady and calm. I hold my metal feather talisman and as soon as my feet hit the ground in the parallel universe, I say the second spell. It feels a bit like landing on a trampoline mat and bouncing back up. Before I’m back in the dark and cold, I glimpse trees and grass. I suspect I’m landing in another version of my life with the circus. I’d love to know what the difference is in this universe, and maybe one day I’ll travel there to find out. Meanwhile, I’m getting a lot of practice going to and from a parallel universe. We’ve performed this trick at every show for the last two weeks. If something were to go wrong, Mum would cut short the act and come and get me.

I land back in the ring and spin around on my star, arms in the air. The crowd roars, their faces bright with amazement. I bow and take off my red cape with a swirl.

‘And now,’ says my mum, ‘let me introduce my mother, Sylvie Williams.’ Sylvie walks up the main aisle, through the middle of the audience, a spotlight following her. She wears a new silver outfit with a tight-fitting coat, and steps into the ring like she owns it. She may not be a magician anymore, but she is still a performer.

Soon I am flying over the audience. All day, I look forward to swooping around the tent like a bird, my imaginary wings beating powerfully and keeping me aloft. I can almost see the audience’s delight floating up to me, like cartoon speech bubbles: Wow! Oh! Look! I want to do that!

Down below, Mum and Sylvie have a pretend argument about who is in control of me, and it looks like I am dragged this way and that, high up near the roof of the big top. The audience loves it and their laughter fills the warm air.

As I glide in figures-of-eight around the king poles, I catch sight of Kit warming up backstage and he gives me a silly salute. The circus is doing so well that we’ve hired another performer – an acrobat, Tristan, who’s training Kit. He’s an old friend of Kit’s dad.