When Sylvie moves her hand away, I stumble forward and I’m dragged under. The water’s wild and deep and I can’t find the surface. I tumble and thrash about, my hands clawing frantically for something to hold onto but finding only water. My knee cracks hard against something and my lungs are burning for air and then, at last, my face is in the night air. I suck in huge breaths and hold tight to a tree root as the waves subside.

I’m bruised and waterlogged, but worst of all, I have failed the first test. Why can’t I do this? What’s wrong with me? My legs are shaking, my knee hurts and I want to cry.

Sylvie and her lantern are way upriver – and the dark is thick and wet and close around me. The black water slides by with a sinister whisper.

‘Sylvie?’ I call, but my voice is weak. I try again. ‘Sylvie!’

She wades down to me. ‘This is very simple stuff, Tulsi,’ she says. ‘The waves did get slightly bigger than I intended but, just the same, I’m surprised you couldn’t manage it. Maybe your mother was right. Maybe you’re too young for this.’

I’m crying properly now. I was so sure magic would come easily. ‘Can’t we just skip to the important stuff?’ My voice is thick with tears. ‘Can’t I just learn the spell that will bring Mum back?’

‘Surely you understand that you must learn the foundations of magic before you can attempt even the simplest spell?’ She starts up the steep riverbank. ‘You know, Janet was actually born with the gift, but didn’t have the personality for it. No imagination and no persistence. She couldn’t get it back now if she tried.’

Is she trying to say that I have no imagination or persistence? What if that’s the real reason Mum has been holding off teaching me? It feels like a heavy, cold rock of doubt has jammed itself into my gut. I scramble up the bank after Sylvie, feet slipping on the mud.

She gives me a hand up. Her grip is strong and warm but I let go at the top in case I get that queasy feeling again.

There’s a sudden noisy rustling in nearby bushes, and I can make out a swarm of small animals on the ground. Bandicoots. Dozens of them.

‘So you attract animals?’ Sylvie asks.

‘Yes, but never this many.’ A few of the bandicoots are lifting their pointy noses and shuffling towards me.

‘It’s a type of power, though I don’t know that it’s very useful,’ she says. ‘I’d say you’re attracting more than usual because you’re activating your magic.’

I’m activating my magic? It didn’t seem like it.