‘Singing,’ Brochan suggested, appearing when Taylor let out such a howl of frustration that the entire flat shook.

‘You try,’ Taylor snapped. ‘I’ve had enough.’

I watched him leave. ‘I don’t know why he’s so upset. I was trying. We all know music’s not really my forte.’ I smirked. ‘Geddit?’

Brochan was not amused. ‘Let’s try some scales, shall we?’

I only got halfway through the first octave before Bob appeared in a blinding flash of light. ‘Please, Uh Integrity, I can’t take this any longer. I have Amnesty on speed dial and if you continue with this, I shall have no choice but to report you for torture.’ I’d have argued with him if Brochan hadn’t looked so relieved.

I sighed. ‘This isn’t going to work, is it? How bad is it if I place last in the first challenge?’

‘Speck estimates your chances of winning the entire Games at around 0.5 percent,’ Brochan said quietly.

I sank down into the nearest chair. ‘Shite.’

From nowhere, Bob drew out a miniature violin and launched into an impressive rendition of Barber’s ‘Adagio for Strings’. I couldn’t tell if he was any good but Brochan seemed impressed. ‘It’s a shame the wee one’s not Sidhe.’

Bob halted mid-note and glared. ‘Who are you calling wee?’

‘I’ve known taller leprechauns,’ I told him. I rubbed my eyes. ‘There has to be something I can do.’

The genie snapped his fingers. ‘There is!’

‘I am not going to make a wish.’

He nodded solemnly. ‘You can’t. But…’

A kernel of suspicion formed in my belly. ‘But what?’

Bob put his hands behind his back and acted bashful, his foot tracing a pattern on top of the table. ‘Leprechauns,’ he said.

I was puzzled. ‘What about them? Because even if they are musical, we’ll never track one down in time.’

‘Leprechauns are Irish.’ He beamed at Brochan and me as if he’d just discovered the secret of alchemy.

‘Bob,’ I said, ‘you must be all of – what? A thousand years old?’

He patted his cheeks. ‘I look young for my age. It’s closer to two.’

‘Fabulous,’ I replied drily. ‘You’re two thousand years old and you’ve only just discovered that leprechauns are Irish. Impressive.’

‘You can tease me all you like, Uh Integrity. It’s not going to change the fact that I can save your Sidhe bacon.’ He flew onto my shoulder and picked up a lock of my hair. ‘I told you you’d need me.’

‘Do you have short-term memory loss? I can’t make any wishes. It’ll nullify any chances I have of winning the Games.’

He yanked so hard on the curl that I yelped in pain. I reached up to brush him off but he danced out of my grasp and settled on the top of my head. Two tiny feet began to stamp into my skull in a continuous, drumming beat. It didn’t hurt but it wasn’t improving my mood.

‘What’s he doing?’ I asked Brochan.

The merman’s face had taken on the most peculiar expression. It wasn’t helped by his eyes starting to stream because of his proximity to Bob. Poor Brochan was allergic. ‘Riverdance, I think.’ He wiped his eyes.