‘Mum?’ I croak. There’s a grassy, green kind of smell and in the lantern light, I see that she made a circle on the ground using dried palm fronds. Her Book lies open on the grass.

She must have been practising the disappearing act, which means she will re-appear at any moment, and scold me for being awake and for watching her do big magic. Has it been thirty seconds yet? That’s how long she said she’d be gone.

‘Mum? It’s time to come back.’

At the edge of the showground, the street lights glow a murky yellow and there’s a light on in Vince’s van. Otherwise, it’s completely, frighteningly black, and the darkness presses in on me from all around, as if it’s an actual solid thing.

I glimpse a pale disc on the grass and pick it up. A golden shell, attached to a frayed bit of string – Mum’s talisman that she wears around her neck. A magician’s talisman holds and increases her power. Even I know that for Mum to be separated from it now, while she’s in the middle of doing magic, is a terrible turn of events.

I call her name again and think I hear her whisper ‘Tulsi’ right behind me. I spin around but there’s no-one there. How long have I been out here, waiting for her?

Dad appears in the van doorway, his long hair mussed. ‘What are you doing up, Tulsi? It’s nearly midnight. Where’s Mum?’

‘I think she did the disappearing trick but she hasn’t come back yet,’ I say, my voice tight.

He steps down onto the grass and calls out, ‘Merry?’ He pulls me into a comforting hug, his soft T-shirt warm against my cheek.

Dad retrieves his big torch from the caravan and we head for the river, where he shines the beam over the water and opposite bank. I don’t like the muscular look of the water as it arches itself over stones and wraps around boulders. I shuffle closer to him. ‘You don’t think she’s in the river, do you?’ I ask. The trees along the river banks – which normally feel so friendly and welcoming – loom over us.

‘I just thought she might be down here,’ says Dad. ‘The river’s a powerful place.’ His voice is strained, and I realise the awful truth: he’s frightened too.

‘How long’s she been gone?’ I ask, dread thrumming through me.

‘About fifteen minutes. Let’s go to the big top. Maybe she’s practising there. Or re-appeared there. Or … something.’ He knows even less about magic than me.

The big top is shadowy and silent, and smells, as always, of canvas and grass and the kerosene from Jerry’s fire-breathing. Dad calls Mum’s name into the hushed darkness and shines his torch up into the high roof.