The thing hovering in the air in Alice’s kitchen was similar enough to the picture in the book to be instantly recognizable, but he was larger, for one thing. The creature in the book had been insectile, six inches high at most, while this creature was a good two feet from head to heel. His wings were enormous, considerably bigger than his slender body, and beat the air so fast that they were a blur, like a hummingbird’s. They were coloured not in greens and blues, but yellow and black, which put Alice in mind of something nasty and poisonous.

The fairy’s skin was off-white and gnarled with warty growths sprouting clusters of thick, black hair. His scalp was bare and bald as an egg, gleaming wetly in the electric light. He had no nose at all, and his eyes were wide but black from edge to edge. When he spoke, she could see a mouth full of needle-like teeth, and a long red tongue like a snake’s.

Alice closed her eyes. This, she thought, is ridiculous. There are no such things as fairies. She gave herself a pinch on the arm, which hurt, and counted slowly to ten.

When I open my eyes, she thought, he will be gone.

‘I really wish you’d at least hear my offer,’ said the nasal voice.

Alice opened her eyes. The fairy was still there. He had hovered closer to her father, his wings thrum-thrumming, one tiny finger wagging in under his nose.

‘I will not,’ Alice’s father said. ‘I will not entertain any sort of offer. Go back and tell your master that. And tell him, if he troubles me again, I’ll . . .’

The fairy waited, lip curled in a cocky grin that showed his teeth. ‘You’ll what, Mr Creighton?’

‘Get out!’ he shouted. ‘Get out of my house!’

There was a long moment of silence. The fairy hovered, impudently, as if to demonstrate that he didn’t have to go just because her father had said so. Then, with an affected sigh, he spun in the air and zipped out the open doorway on the other side of the room. Alice heard one of the front windows rattle open.

Her father sagged, like a heavy weight had been fastened around his shoulders. He let go of the frying pan and leaned on the range for support. Alice wanted to run to him, but she didn’t dare. Whatever she had just seen – and she was still not certain what she had just seen – it was something she had not been supposed to witness.

Alice’s father took a long breath, closed his eyes, and blew it out slowly, tickling the edges of his mustache. Then his eyes snapped open, full of panic.

‘Alice,’ he said, under his breath. ‘Oh God.’