As I peel off my sodden shorts, Dad drops onto my bed, his face pained. ‘One thing I know for sure is that your mum would never want Sylvie anywhere near you …’ He runs his hands through his hair and I can tell he’s thinking something through. ‘… And she certainly wouldn’t want Sylvie teaching you.’ He won’t look straight at me, which is a bad sign. ‘Listen, I’ve decided Sylvie can stay with us for a few nights. Because she’s your grandmother, your only grandmother, and it seems right that you get to know her. But – and I know this will be disappointing – I won’t let Sylvie teach you magic. I’m done with magic.’ Finally, he looks at me. ‘I’m sorry.’

It takes a moment for me to make sense of what he’s said.

‘What?!’ I shout. ‘No! No!’ I am seething with disbelief. ‘I can’t get Mum back if I don’t know magic.’ I stare down at him. ‘You can’t do that.’

‘I can and I will.’ His voice is horribly matter-of-fact. ‘You are not learning magic from Sylvie and you are not going to a parallel universe.’

Sobs burst from me, ragged and awful. I fling my wet T-shirt to the ground and turn away from Dad’s comforting hand.

I crawl into bed and hug Mum’s pillow. Where are you, Mum? I think. Are you okay?

Is it really Dad and me on our own now? And what if Peter Potts has his way, and we lose the circus as well? I won’t be a magician. I won’t be a circus kid. I won’t have Kit and – worst of all – I won’t have Mum.

I feel like I’m back in the river, trapped underwater, being dragged downstream with nothing to grab hold of.

CHAPTER 10

Early next morning, I’m woken by something poking me. Sylvie’s crouched by my bed, smelling of soap and insect repellent. ‘Test number two,’ she whispers.

It seems Dad hasn’t told her yet about the ban on magic lessons.

I dress as quietly as I can and scribble him a note: Gone for a walk. After a moment, I add: With Kit.

Dad’s sleeping on his side, holding tight to something blue; Mum’s pyjama top. Oh Dad. I just want to crawl in beside him, but I turn away and follow Sylvie out into the pink-flushed dawn.

‘Today, your job is to listen,’ she says as we pass Jerry and Walid’s brightly painted van. ‘Listen to the river, to the birds, to the trees. Really listen.’

I take a deep breath. ‘Dad says you’re not allowed to teach me magic. That you can stay for a few days, but …’ I press my lips tight to stop the tears.

‘I know,’ she says. ‘He came and spoke to me last night.’

‘Oh.’