Did Mellissa listen to them, or watch over them? Did she sleep up there? There was a thought. Did she dance in front of them, shaking her honey-maker back and forth to tell them where the best flowers were?

We ate chicken tikka masala sandwiches and drank coffee from the big military flasks I’d found in the trunks. Dominic kissed Victor goodbye and we watched the big Nissan rumble and lurch its way down the hill.

The moon rose in the east, swollen and full, but I made everyone wait until it was dark before we approached the gate into the forest.

‘Do you think it will make a difference?’ asked Beverley as I held the gate open for her and Dominic.

‘I just don’t want to have to come back and do this again,’ I said.

In the moonlight the logging track was a straight milky line between the dark ranks of conifers on either side. I warned Beverley and Dominic to turn off their phones and pulled out the first of my mini cricket bats and turned it on. The LED glowed red in the darkness.

‘What does that do?’ asked Dominic.

I considered telling him that it saved my brain by providing a power source external to my precious grey matter, but then I’d have to explain everything else.

‘Helps me cast spells,’ I said.

‘Okay,’ said Dominic. ‘Wait – magic spells?’

I cast a simple lux impello combo which put a yellowish werelight about two metres over my head where, hopefully, it would bob about after me like a balloon, only brightly lit. The LED on the cricket bat started to flicker.

Dominic stared at the werelight.

‘What the hell is that?’ he asked.

‘It’s a magic spell,’ I said, and Beverley snorted.

‘Show off,’ she said.

‘I said I was going to do magic,’ I said.

‘But . . .’ Dominic floundered around for a bit before pointing at me accusingly. ‘You said that there’s weird shit, but it normally turns out to have a rational explanation.’

‘It does,’ said Beverley. ‘The explanation is a wizard did it.’

‘That’s my line,’ I said, and Beverley shrugged.

‘You didn’t say anything about spells!’ said Dominic.

‘It’s just a werelight,’ I said.

It was like having our own personal streetlight, but beyond that bright circle the woods were a jumble of angular shadows – shifting uneasily as the yellow werelight bobbed and wavered in the breeze.

‘Can we at least start moving in the right direction?’ I said.

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Dominic, who was still having trouble. ‘Is there anything else I should know?’

‘We’re looking for an invisible unicorn and Bev here is the goddess of a small river in South London.’

‘It’s quite a big river, actually,’ said Beverley.

‘How do people normally react to this?’ asked Dominic.

‘And most of it’s above ground,’ said Beverley.