‘Let me,’ Zara says, pushing him back. She reaches down and starts rummaging in the pockets of the bag, eventually finding a crumpled piece of paper with a number on it. She gets out her phone and dials with no hesitation and speaks quick and firm.

‘She’s on her way,’ she says.

‘Oh good,’ says Yanny. ‘That’ll be trouble later.’

‘Never mind later. We need to fix you now,’ she says.

‘OK,’ he whispers, closing his eyes.

Zara gives a low whistle, staring from him to me. ‘I mean, I knew there was stuff going on, and I knew magic was real, but what is all this? It’s a nightmare! How are you involved, Stella? What’s going on?’

‘Let’s just . . . get through this, and I’ll tell you – I promise.’ I hold her gaze and take a deep breath, seeing Nan and Peg in my mind, how horrified they’re going to be, and saying it anyway: ‘You can come to mine after school.’

She nods. ‘OK.’

Mrs Mandrake raises an eyebrow in surprise when she sees us all sitting there. I smile, but it feels a bit hopeless.

‘Stella. Glad to see you’re making friends,’ she says. ‘This must be the Zara your nan spoke about. What a fine mess you’ve got yourself caught up in, my girl. And here is Yanny.’ She frowns, taking in his form. ‘It’s a good job you called.’ She starts rummaging in her bag, eventually coming out with a small purse.

I open my mouth to say something. Anything. But nothing comes out.

‘We’ll talk later,’ she says. ‘Let’s get this boy sorted out for now.’ She stares at him for a moment, noting aloud the steam coming from his nostrils, the monochrome of his complexion.

She looks up at me. ‘His eyes – how do they look?’

‘Um. Fiery. Then his pupils sort of filled them.’

She tuts and unzips a small purse, using tiny silver tweezers to draw out a bunch of very smelly dried twigs.

‘What’s that? Is he going to be OK?’ asks Zara.

‘Oh yes –’ she shakes her head – ‘for now, anyway.’

She looks angry in a way I’ve never seen before. She takes a deep breath and thrusts the bundle under Yanny’s nose. His eyes snap open, and he tries to jerk away, but she holds him firm, her mouth a set line, and slowly whatever she’s doing begins to work. He is still very clearly unhuman, but colour starts to bleed back into his skin.

‘OK,’ she says. ‘That’ll do it.’

‘What was that twig thing?’

‘Bit of a mer-fae nest,’ she says. ‘He’s been overdoing it. Keeping up the glamour is a tall order when you’re half-starved and sleep deprived, never mind all that fighting he’s been doing in there. I’ve just calmed it all down a bit and restored a little of his energy. Now – I’ve got to go. I’ll go and see Principal Ashworth now and make sure you’re not disturbed. I’ll tell him that I’ve allowed you in here, Zara – that should save you all some trouble. We should talk, you and I . . .’ She looks at Zara long and hard, as if making her mind up about something. ‘Yes, we should. Now, get Yanny home once the coast is clear, and make sure he rests. No glamouring for him, not for a good few days.’