A neighbour tells us that an ambulance turned up at Janet’s this morning and Thelma was stretchered into the back. My stomach sinks. I ask Dad if we can go to the hospital to look for Thelma, but he says it’s better to wait here, that Janet will have to come home at some point.

We sit in the stuffy Land Rover for ages, windows up against the mozzies. Darkness falls and I wonder if it’s dark wherever Mum is, too. Does she know we’re trying to get her back? Hold on, Mum, I think.

A car turns into Janet’s driveway. A woman climbs out and in the streetlight, I see that she has long red hair. Janet. She helps an old woman – Thelma – into the house.

We give them a few minutes to settle in, then hurry up the steps. At the front door, Dad tucks his shirt into his jeans and flashes me a nervous smile, then knocks.

The door swings open. Janet has a pillow tucked under one arm and an irritated expression. ‘Dave,’ she says after a moment, ‘and Tulsi.’ She looks us up and down. I wish I wasn’t such a mess. My hair is particularly knotty, and I’m wearing my wrinkled pyjama top, old shorts and muddy sneakers. Janet gives me a millisecond smile. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asks. She’s the same prickly person I remember.

‘We have a problem …’ Dad says.

‘Oh.’ She pauses. ‘You’d better come in, I suppose.’ In Janet’s kitchen is a long wooden table piled with books and papers and a washing basket. She clears a space on two chairs for Dad and me, then leans against the bench, her arms crossed.

‘We’ve come to talk to your mum,’ says Dad. ‘Merry has disappeared herself, and we need Thelma’s help to get her back.’ Hearing him say it out loud sends a trickle of icy fear through me all over again.

Janet’s face turns stony. She did not inherit the gift from her mother. Mum told me Janet hates magic. Loathes it.

‘No, Dave.’ Janet’s voice is cold. ‘Mum’s sick. We just got back from hospital, literally five minutes ago. She’s in bed and not to be disturbed. Besides, Mum and I agreed that when she came to live here, magic was not coming as well.’ It looks like it physically pains her to say the word ‘magic’. ‘My house. My rules.’ She gives a thin smile.

Dad stands up, his chair scraping loudly on the wooden floor. ‘Don’t you understand, Janet? Merry has disappeared!’

There’s a clunk from the hallway and a wobbly voice calls out. ‘Janet? Who’s that shouting?’