She sighs. ‘Let me say this. Your mother likes a simple life and she clearly wanted that for you. I think that’s why she didn’t teach you any magic. She was overprotective.’

What do you mean was overprotective? I think. She’s still alive. A cold shiver passes through me. Does Sylvie know something I don’t?

‘I – on the other hand – want an adventurous life,’ Sylvie continues, ‘and that’s where I got into trouble. I’m happy to take risks and I have big dreams. I think you and I are quite alike. Don’t you?’

‘You don’t think Mum might be …’ I clear my throat. ‘She’s still alive, isn’t she?’

Sylvie looks directly at me, her eyes steady and clear. ‘I can’t be a hundred per cent sure, but you heard her voice, right?’ She smiles reassuringly. ‘That would suggest she’s alive. But clearly something has gone wrong. I have no idea what’s happened; personally I never had any issues getting back.’

I stare at her, shocked. ‘Hang on, have you been to a parallel universe before?’

‘Of course I have,’ she says in a tone that suggests I’m stupid for asking.

My cheeks flame. ‘But why didn’t you mention it?!’

‘I hardly felt I needed to.’ Sylvie claps her hands dismissively. ‘Now, it’s time for your next test. I want you to go and listen to one of those trees and tell me what it says. Any tree is fine, they’re all sisters. And charge up while you’re there. I can tell you’re still low on energy.’ She frowns at me. ‘And remember, no pointing a finger at anything!’

‘Coo-coo, coo-coo!’ Kit saunters around the side of the tent, wearing baggy blue pants and a white singlet. ‘Oh!’ he says, and stops dead when he sees Sylvie.

‘You must be Kit,’ she says. ‘You look like your mother.’

He gives me a sideways look.

I stand up and hand him my plate. ‘I have to go and listen to a fig tree. Are you coming?’

‘You betcha,’ he says as he stuffs my last pancake into his mouth.

CHAPTER 12

We cartwheel over the grass. You would never call me a natural acrobat; I just love the familiar, comforting rhythm of hand, hand, foot, foot, landing on the earth. Mum’s okay. Mum’s okay, I reassure myself. Hand, hand, foot, foot. I heard her. She must be okay.

We reach the Tree of Many Chickens, the biggest of the showground fig trees, which towers over the Poultry Pavilion – the building where they cage the fancy chickens and roosters each year at the Show. This tree has particularly huge and curvaceous roots bunching up above the ground.

As we swing up onto the lowest branch, Kit says, ‘She seems a bit fierce, your grandma.’