I realise that’s how Dad lives. He’s not as flashy or clever as Mum but he’ll always offer to help you with something and he doesn’t gossip.

I’m not sure he’d like my version of being true to myself, though, given that it involves me going behind his back, learning magic and planning to take off to a parallel universe.

An hour later, we arrive in Canmore. The showground here is smaller than Millimba’s, and surrounded by wooden houses, most of them perched up on stilts to keep them above flood level. There are no mighty fig trees, just a ring of old camphor laurels with rough bark and those hard black berries that are so painful underfoot.

That night, the big top’s almost full. I’m backstage, watching through the curtain while Zanni balances Louie on one hand, but all I can think about is the darkness test later tonight. Darkest possible dark.

Kit helps Jerry with his new fire-breathing routine, which is awesome, though it makes the whole of backstage reek of kerosene. And Kit’s new bicycle highwire act with Walid goes off without a hitch. The evening’s show is a triumph.

I find Sylvie changing out of her sequined dress. ‘I’m ready,’ I say and force a smile.

As we walk towards the door, Dad calls to me. He has his toolbox in one hand. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To find Kit,’ I say, and walk purposefully away from Sylvie.

‘Dinner in an hour, Tulsi,’ he says, and there’s a note of a warning in his voice.

Sylvie and I meet around the back of the big top and walk in silence up Canmore’s main street. We cross the big bridge, the river glinting below us in the moonlight.

Despite my torch, the inky, dense darkness presses in on me. A car drives by and music drifts out its open windows. After it’s gone, the night seems blacker than ever and a nameless feeling shivers through me. I want to sprint back to the lights of town, but failing this test is not an option. Maybe it will be as simple as walking like this in the dark? Maybe this is the test?

On either side of the road are paddocks dotted with the dark shapes of cows that – predictably – amble towards me. I find the Southern Cross above and figure out that we are walking north-west.

‘Did you ever get a consequence for bringing the tree down?’ Sylvie asks.

‘Not that I know of,’ I say.

‘Me either.’ She sounds surprised. ‘Maybe because it was an accident.’

She turns up a dirt road. On one side is a field of tall sugar cane, where critters are scurrying about. ‘For goodness sake, Tulsi!’ she says, in an annoyed voice. ‘You’re like a magnet for animals. Surely you know how to contain your energy by now.’