Kit looks at his dad’s watch, which he keeps in his pocket. ‘I have to go and practise. I’m learning to ride a bike on the highwire. Falling with a harness on is no fun,’ he groans. ‘By the way, your dad seems to think I was with you this morning. I fudged it. But next time, can you please tell me if I’m your alibi?’

‘Sure. Sorry.’

I watch him sprint away and wish – yet again – that Mum were still here. Then I wouldn’t have a head full of questions, and our only worry would be saving the circus. Vince is right, I think. You made a stupid mistake, Mum. ‘A stupid, stupid mistake,’ I say out loud. ‘How could you?’

CHAPTER 13

Sylvie sticks her head around the van. ‘Who are you talking to? The trees?’

I ask her straight out: ‘Why did Vince say you were sapping my energy? And what did you do to Mum? What –’

‘Tulsi,’ she interrupts in a cool voice. ‘You need to concentrate on the tests.’

‘But –’

‘What Vincent might say about me is not your business!’ she snaps. ‘It’s hard enough trying to teach you with Vincent and your father hanging around. Don’t make it harder by quizzing me about things long gone.’ She gives me a stiff smile. ‘And right now, you need more energy. Lie down and soak up the sun and the wind and earth.’

I lie on the grass beside her, my face hot. Sylvie’s come in and taken over our van, she’s bossing me around and drip-feeding me bits of information. And I have no choice but to let her do it, because I need her.

We lie in prickly silence until she says, in a much friendlier tone, ‘Vincent is wrong about me being greedy, you know. There are ways to earn money from magic without breaking the laws.’

I don’t bother asking what she means by that. She’d just snap at me.

‘Also, Tulsi, there’s nothing wrong with wanting money and a good life.’

‘We have a good life,’ I say through gritted teeth.

She sits up. ‘But wouldn’t it be good to eat something other than Li Lin’s lentil stew every night?’ she says. ‘This circus is very dingy and rundown, you know.’

I hate that she’s made me see our circus with new eyes. Now I can’t help notice how broken and worn everything is.

‘And if you had money, Peter Potts wouldn’t be able to shut down the circus,’ she says. ‘You’d never have to worry about someone selling it out from under you. Wouldn’t you like that?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Anyway, enough chat. Tell me what the fig tree said to you.’

‘The tree had one word,’ I say as I sit up. ‘Courage.’ I try not to think of why I might need courage.