‘Ivy Wilde.’ Armstrong rolled my name round his mouth. I rather thought I’d preferred Number Four; at least then I’d been anonymous. ‘You’re a witch.’

The plain, unvarnished truth. So much for my undercover work. Still, there was no point in lying about it now. ‘I am,’ I said cautiously.

‘Why are you here?’

‘I’m a big fan of the show.’ I paused. ‘I’ve been watching it from the beginning.’

Armstrong’s lip curled. He clearly didn’t believe me for a second. ‘Who’s been your favourite contestant?’

That was easy. ‘Ally,’ I answered.

He snorted. ‘She’s everyone’s favourite.’

I couldn’t win. ‘Ask me something else.’

‘What do you think has been the greatest magic trick ever seen on the show?’

The fact that he called them tricks told me far more about him than he probably wanted me to know. ‘Most people would say the second series,’ I said in earnest, ‘when three contestants banded together and used their powers to make it snow in Knightsbridge in May.’

‘You disagree?’

‘The weather was already cool for that time of year and the snow shower was localised. Any Order Neophyte could do that. The actual best spell was series four when Jonathon was the first contestant to get voted off. He used magic to heal a cut on Becky’s finger.’

‘He slept for three days afterwards.’

‘True,’ I agreed. ‘But there are very few witches of even Second or Third Level who have mastered healing. The human body is too complex and there’s too much potential for disaster. We’re talking about knitting together skin and ensuring that blood flow isn’t hampered. In fact,’ I said, warming to my subject, ‘closing a tiny cut is harder than fixing a broken bone because of the delicate touch it requires.’

Armstrong scratched his chin. ‘Do you know what happened to Jonathon?’

Yeah, I did. ‘He entered the Order on a fast track to Second Level and he’s currently working in the depths of South America helping out the tribes there.’

Armstrong’s eyes half closed but I was aware that he was still watching me with all the attention of a hawk eyeing up a mouse. ‘Are you with the Order?’

I didn’t hesitate. ‘No.’

‘They want to come here but they don’t understand what it is that we do.’

I didn’t imagine that they did. ‘Would their desire to come here be as a result of the Benjamin Alberts’ murder?’

Armstrong opened his eyes fully again. ‘What happened to him is a terrible shame. But nothing to do with Enchantment.’

‘How do you know that?’ I pressed, half expecting to get my head bitten off and spat out for asking. ‘He was only here because of Enchantment.’

For the briefest moment Armstrong seemed to shrink into himself. ‘Because if Alberts died as a result of our show, I’m sunk before I get started.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘And the police have found no evidence to suggest his passing had anything to do with us.’