I plonked myself down in the far corner and sat cross-legged on the floor. It was all becoming too much. I tried to will my legs to work but it wasn’t happening; instead I pushed my head back so I could see the top of the refreshments table. Then I used a quick series of runes to set out the cups and saucers.

There must have been quite a rattle of china because several of the producers’ heads turned in my direction. One blonde woman nudged the man next to her and the pair of them watched as I lazily lifted my hand. At least there was a decent-sized urn with enough hot water in it to do the trick. I ignored their stares and continued. Some of us had real work to do. The group eventually gave up on the Ivy Wilde Show and continued their discussion. I was too tired even to listen, despite their tones of worry and displeasure.

I’d just finished magically dispensing teaspoons to each saucer from my vantage point on the ground when Belinda entered with a young man who I took to be her assistant. He was holding an umbrella over her head and, rather than fold it up, he left it open. I squeaked in dismay. This might only be a tent but we were still indoors. I’d already had all the bad luck I needed for this year.

Abandoning the coffee cups, I lunged for the still-dripping brolly. The man gave me an astonished look.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ I yelled at him. ‘Don’t you know anything?’ I snapped the umbrella shut and flung it back at him. His reactions weren’t fast enough to catch it and it fell uselessly to the floor.

Belinda raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow in my direction. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘I should think,’ I said through gritted teeth, no longer caring that I was talking to one of my idols, ‘that a magical show would know better than to tempt fate.’

A flicker of amusement crossed her face and she exchanged glances with the seated producers, as if to tell them that they’d employed a crazy person. Honestly. I was surrounded by idiots. Famous well-paid idiots, but idiots nonetheless.

She sat down. ‘I’m afraid it’s bad news,’ she began.

I snorted to myself. If she went around indoors with open umbrellas that was hardly surprising. I stopped paying her attention and collapsed in the corner again. My small spurt of energy meant I’d need to sit down for at least another half an hour.

Using some carefully designed runes, I transported each cup to the urn and filled it up before sending it through the air to each seated person. One by one, they all fell silent as my bippity-boppity-boo ensured they were appropriately watered.

‘What?’ I snapped. ‘You said you wanted coffee.’

Morris Armstrong, whom I’d barely noticed near the end of the table, inclined his head. ‘And we thank you for it.’ He reached down and took a sip. ‘It tastes even better for the magic.’