The washing machine began to kick into high gear, starting its shuffle across the marbled floor. That’s probably why I didn’t notice the strange buzzing sound to begin with. It was the odd scent of cinnamon which caught my attention first.

Wondering if it was a base note from the perfume, or perhaps remnants of a long-forgotten cleaning agent, I sniffed the blade again. As I did so, a blinding flash of light seared my eyeballs. What the hell was that? Crying out, I dropped the knife and covered my face with my arm.

‘I can still see you, you know. It doesn’t work for ostriches and it doesn’t work for you.’

I froze. The booming voice sounded as if it had come from right in front of me. Baffled, and still squinting, I lowered my arm and stared. The knife lay on its side where it had clattered to the floor and the washing machine continued to rumble ‒ but there was definitely no one else in the room. I was going mad. Or dreaming.

I turned slowly, wary that someone might be behind me. There was nothing more than the battered ironing board propped up against the far wall and the kitchen table covered with old bills and bits of paper that I’d left out so I could file them away in carefully labelled folders, ready for transportation.

‘Honestly, for a faerie, you’re pretty stupid.’

Okay: I definitely hadn’t imagined that. ‘Hello?’ I asked cautiously, wondering whether it could be a ghost.

‘Great Scott!’ The voice said, utterly exasperated. ‘I’m down here!’

Rubbing my eyes again, I stared at the floor, feeling like an idiot. ‘Where?’

‘Here!’

A flicker of movement caught my eye and I saw him, crouching down next to the discarded letter opener. A tiny man wearing what appeared to be a tuxedo. He wasn’t any larger than my thumb. I did what any girl would do in such a situation. I gaped.

‘I knew a goldfish who did that once,’ the little man commented.

‘Who are you?’

A grin spread across his face. I realised that he was the most perfectly apple-cheeked being outside of the toddler three doors down that I’d ever seen in my life.

‘I’m Bob!’ he answered cheerfully. ‘Who are you?’

‘Uh,’ I licked my lips, still not sure if any of this was real, ‘Integrity.’

‘Uh Integrity? That’s a strange name. I’m guessing it’s not your true one.’

Something inside me closed off. ‘You mean because I’m a Sidhe,’ I said flatly. ‘Well, we’re not all the same. I don’t have a true name.’

‘Every Sidhe has a true name. And a magical Gift to go along with it.’

‘No.’ I put my hands on my hips. ‘They don’t.’