Lights come on in the house, and Efa disappears inside. No more than five minutes later, she emerges. ‘Good old Bryn,’ she says as she settles back into her seat. ‘He’s got the right vehicle for it. And Doc Williams down the road will look at any injuries.’

‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I melted the snow on the road, so Bryn should have no trouble getting through.’

She stares at me. ‘You what?!’

‘Melted the snow. So I could walk faster.’

She shakes her head. ‘Did you not think that someone might notice?’ Her voice is loud and angry. ‘Did you not think it would seem more than a little strange that the road between the village and your car has only a light covering of snow, while the rest of the road is knee deep? Plus, any water left from the melted snow will turn to ice, which is like driving on glass.’ She jams the tractor into gear. ‘Just because you use magic in a circus, Tulsi, it doesn’t mean you can forget all the laws. We follow the laws of magic here.’

‘So do we.’ I look out at the snowy road. ‘Mostly.’

She steers the tractor over a stone bridge and stops halfway across. ‘So, what’s the river saying?’ she asks. It’s definitely a challenge.

I listen hard. ‘I don’t know. I can’t hear it over the tractor engine.’

‘You should be able to hear it no matter what other noise is around. That was the first thing I learnt,’ says Efa. ‘To listen to the river, and stand steady against its current.’

‘Me, too.’ I don’t mention that it was only three weeks ago.

We chug along in awkward silence until Efa clears her throat. ‘You’re lucky, you know, travelling to a parallel universe. My mam’s never let me. To be honest, I’ve barely left this village. I’d like to get out and see the world. You can’t imagine what it’s like growing up with the same people. Everyone’s known everyone for generations around here.’

‘My family have lived with the same people for generations, too. We move around together, that’s all.’

She glances at me. ‘Oh, I didn’t think of it like that. You don’t get sick of each other?’

‘Sometimes, but I wouldn’t want to live without them.’ I try to think of something to say that won’t annoy her. ‘How old were you when you started learning magic?’ I ask.

‘Oh, about seven or eight,’ she says, and now it’s my turn to feel envious. ‘I started by collecting plants in the forests with my mam, and making up the tinctures, or medicines. She’d do the spells over the tinctures and I watched. I started going to births with her when I was about fourteen.’

‘Do you use magic for helping women have babies?’ I ask.