Walden had a realistic opinion of her own capabilities. She was not someone easy to surpass. But if there was such a thing as destiny, then it was calling to Nikki Conway, and it was calling with the mantle of the once-a-generation magician and scholar. She was a Roger Rollins, a Gwendolyn Hornsey. Perhaps she belonged on the list of truly legendary British wizards, up there with John Dee and Isaac Newton. She deserved the chance to find out. An Oxford degree was the first step along that road; and if she chose to turn off the road, then the prestige of having done just that first step would still open dozens of other doors for her. Turn it down? Why would she ever turn it down?

“I’m having a hard time getting to the bottom of it myself,” said Ebele. “And of course it’s not the best time to pile on the serious conversations, when she’s in the middle of mocks. But I think Nikki might benefit from talking about this with someone a bit less,” she made a face, “well, a bit less me. I’d like you to meet with her, if that’s all right. I know it’s not the best time for you either.”

The hedging and apologetic tone were a velvet glove wrapped around what was actually, very clearly, an order. Not many people outranked Walden in the school hierarchy, but Ebele was one of them. But—“Me?” said Walden. “I’m not really the right person for … pastoral.”

“I think you know,” said Ebele, “that usually, the right person to take the lead on any pastoral concern is the person that child feels able to talk to.”

Walden had a very good relationship with Nikki—as her Invocation teacher. They’d had any number of lively, delightful, academic conversations, in lessons and in interview prep sessions. But she had never had anything to do with her personal or pastoral development. She still remembered the enormous awkwardness of walking the tearful sixth former down the corridor to the infirmary in absolute silence.

Dr Walden, I think I should drop, Nikki had said.

They’d never talked about it again. Walden had handed it off along the proper channels—the nurse, the pastoral deputy head, the school counsellor—and got on with her own job.

But every child was every adult’s responsibility.

“If you really think I can help,” she said, “I’m happy to try.”

chapter twenty-five CAREERS

A complete surprise in the second week of January took the Nikki Conway question cleanly out of Walden’s head. She logged on to Facebook for the first time in several months and found a message from Rosalind Chan, sent back in December, friendly and cheerful: she was going to be in London for a conference in mid-January and wouldn’t it be great to get brunch?