“Sorry, Dr Walden,” Nikki said, almost calmly, a moment later. “Obviously I am a bit emotional about this. Sorry.” As if feeling something about your dead family was an embarrassing social error. “Look, I know I’ve been lucky, really lucky. Loads of people aren’t as lucky as me. A Chetwood education is a privilege, and I’m grateful for all the opportunities I’ve had at school.” She had hit her stride again; the quick recovery was another interview-prep special. Now she sounded measured, confident, grown-up: like she was delivering a student assembly, or talking into a camera for the video prospectus. “I do love magic. I really love magic. I’ve loved our Invocation lessons, and everything I’ve learned here. But in the end, I think I have to take responsibility for my own actions. I know I would learn a lot at Oxford. But I don’t think I’m a good person—I mean, a safe person—to be a magician. I don’t think I deserve this. So I’ll finish my A-levels, obviously, so I haven’t wasted everyone’s time and the school’s money. After that I can get a job. And maybe reapply to a different uni for something else later. I don’t know.”

Nikki might be measured and confident but she hadn’t been doing this nearly as long as Walden had. Walden was absolutely certain that none of her real feelings were showing when she asked, “What do you think you’d like to apply for?”

A slight pause. “I did all magic A-levels,” Nikki said. “So that makes it a bit harder.”

“Not really,” Walden said. “It’s the grades that count, unless you’re applying for something with very specific entry requirements. You couldn’t do medicine, or engineering, but for almost everything else, your A-levels are proof of the kind of student you are regardless of what subject you’re going on to study. Any university would be lucky to have you. And, of course, the school would support you in reapplying. It’s a lot simpler if you already have your grades. The Careers Department handles a few post-qualification applications every year.” Take her seriously, she was thinking, don’t overreact, let her think it through herself. Be understanding. Be safe.

“I don’t know,” Nikki confessed after a moment. “I tried to think about it but I couldn’t really picture anything. It’s just always been magic. Right back to Year Seven, I knew. I suppose … it would probably be intelligent to do something with a career at the end, right? Not medicine, obviously, I don’t know, law or something.”