‘This trick of yours will need to be something truly spectacular to save the circus,’ says Dad as he rinses his glass.

‘Yes, I know that, Dave,’ Mum replies, sounding slightly irritated.

‘What’s the trick? I’m going to find out soon anyway,’ I say through a foaming mouthful of toothpaste. Please let me help you with it.

Mum and Dad glance at each other but say nothing. They’re so annoying. I spit into the sink.

Finally, Mum says, ‘A disappearing act.’

My heart flips with excitement. ‘Will you disappear a person?’ Pick me! I want to shout.

She gives a small nod. ‘Yes. Me. I’ll be gone for about thirty seconds. It will look like I evaporate, then re-appear.’

‘I didn’t even know there was a disappearing spell,’ I say.

‘There’s a lot you don’t know about magic, my darling.’

‘I can help you, Mum. Do it with me. We all know I have the gift. Watch this! Watch this!’

I point at the caravan door. All spells are in Welsh, so they’re hard to remember and hard to pronounce, but this is one I’ve heard her use a hundred times – and it’s the spell that sort of worked for me this afternoon. I say what I think are the words, but nothing happens. Then I’m hit with a terrible dizziness and our blue dinner plates – stacked in their travelling compartment above the sink – roll off the shelf and crash onto the bench below, just missing Dad. They break a few of Mum’s herbal tea jars on their way down, and bits of plate and tea fly everywhere.

There’s a long silence after the last plate smashes.

I want to sink into the floor. This is a spectacular, awful failure.

‘Wow,’ says Dad eventually, brushing some herbs off his shirt. ‘What happened there?’

Mum takes a long, slow breath. Her voice is quiet, but like steel. ‘Tulsi. Look at me. You do a stunt like that again and I will never teach you magic. Never. Do you hear? The laws exist for a reason. Rule breakers come to no good. You know that!’

‘Okay,’ I say, my eyes brimming with tears. What I want to say is, But there’s been no consequence for me trying out a few little spells here and there! Which obviously means I am meant to be doing spells. And if you’d just teach me something, then this kind of thing wouldn’t happen!

Dad gently takes hold of my arm. ‘Don’t move, sweetie. These shards of plate are very sharp.’ He reaches into the cupboard for the dustpan and brush, and crouches to sweep up the mess.

Mum picks up her Book and steps past Dad, bits of plate crunching under her shoes. ‘I’ll clean it up, Dave,’ she says.