‘Think of a seed,’ Sylvie says as she pours milk into her teacup. ‘Each seed contains all the knowledge it needs to become a tree or flower, but it needs the right conditions: water, warmth from the sun, soil, and time. It cannot be rushed. Magic’s like that. It has a natural timeframe that can’t be hurried along.’

‘How long did Mum take to learn magic?’ I ask.

Sylvie takes a bite of her toasted sandwich and chews slowly. How can she eat at a moment like this? ‘It took her years and years,’ she says at last. ‘It’s impossible for you to learn enough magic in a few weeks.’ She nods at my plate of eggs. ‘Your food’s getting cold.’

I feel like I’m drowning, sinking, and begging Sylvie to pull me to safety. ‘You have to help us! I know I can do this –’

‘Save your breath, Tulsi. You can’t do it. It’s impossible.’ I watch her talking, but the words don’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

She says, ‘When we finish lunch you two can drive me back to where I’m staying. I’m sick of dragging my suitcase up the hill.’

In the car, on the way to Sylvie’s motel, I can hardly breathe, as if the air has turned to cement.

Meanwhile, in the front seat, Sylvie’s chatting away to a silent Dad as if it’s slipped her mind that we have lost Mum forever. I’ve had an image of Sylvie all these years as a dazzling, mysterious rebel-magician. In fact, she’s just self-centred and rude.

Dad pulls into a carpark that’s overlooked by a huge, lumpy statue of a long-legged bird. A sign reads: Pink Flamingo Motel. I guess that’s the pink bird Thelma was talking about.

Dad’s phone rings as Sylvie climbs out. ‘Help me carry my bag up the stairs, Tulsi?’ she says, but it’s more of an order than a question.

I do it, but only because it means I can ask her something that’s been burning me up inside. ‘Just say I had been breaking the rules by practising little bits of magic here and there,’ I say as we heave her bag up the steps. ‘Is there any chance that Mum’s disappearance is a consequence for me doing that?’

She laughs. ‘Goddess, no! You’re descended from a long line of magicians. You are meant to be practising magic.’

I am filled with relief. It’s not my fault.

She unlocks the door to her room and points to the bed. ‘Sit down.’ She takes my hands in hers and an unpleasant, hollow feeling spreads through me.

After a couple of seconds, she gives a satisfied smile. ‘Well, well, well,’ she says. It’s the first real smile I’ve seen from her.