She smoothed down her new tweed patterned leggings. ‘These are brilliant! Thank you so much!’ She looked at me in awe. ‘You’re a witch. A real witch.’

I smiled at her. ‘You’re a contestant on Enchantment. You’re a real witch too,’ I lied.

She shook her head. ‘I’m not. I’m only here because I want to break into TV presenting. My agent told me that the sort of exposure I can get on a show like this is priceless.’ Her face fell. ‘But I can’t do any spells at all.’

I revised my opinion; maybe she wouldn’t win after all. The contestants had to have at least a smidgen of magical ability to get to the later stages. All the same, I patted her arm. ‘You should get a move on,’ I advised. ‘It’s about to start.’

Impulsively she reached across and hugged. ‘Thank you,’ she said again. ‘Thank you so much.’ She jogged to catch up to the rest of them, able to move more quickly now. I high-fived myself. Awesome work, if I said so myself.

Peeling away from the group of contestants, I weaved through various boxes of equipment and busy looking crew members until I reached the clearing in front of the main stage. Belinda Battenapple was already there and I goggled up at her. Although her make-up was caked on, no doubt for the benefit of the cameras, she looked as glamorous in person as she did on screen – although slightly shorter than I’d expected. To emphasise our location, she was wearing a short tartan kilt. Somehow I didn’t think the original Highlanders had ever paired their kilts with knee-high stiletto boots.

I managed – just – to resist letting out an almighty squeal and rushing up to demand her autograph. But it was a close run thing.

‘Bitch.’

I stiffened and turned to see Moonbeam standing beside me. ‘I hope you’re not referring to me.’

‘Hardly.’ He jerked his chin over at Belinda. ‘Her.’

I raised an eyebrow. It was the first time his voice had sounded anything other than chirpy and enthusiastic and I was taken aback by the vitriol he injected into his words.

‘Why? What has she done?’

He looked at me as if I were stupid. ‘Made me take this stupid job for one thing. I shouldn’t have to start out at the bottom,’ he complained. ‘What’s the point of being television royalty when you’re forced to work as a runner?’

A whole lot of things suddenly slid into place. I switched my gaze between both him and her, belatedly registering the resemblance. ‘She’s your mother.’

No wonder he had such a daft name – he was a celebrity’s kid. The fact that he’d been managing to get away with doing so little work also made sense; he probably knew half the crew. Not to mention that everyone would be walking on eggshells around Belinda Battenapple’s only son. Except for Morris Armstrong. I wondered whether he’d been deliberately left out of the loop about Moonbeam’s heritage because someone was hoping Armstrong would mess up and piss off La Battenapple herself. He might be the director but she was legendary.