‘And then what?’ I said. ‘I’ve seen it happen. It happened to my mother and me. First the small things, the things we thought we could cope with – the practical jokes, the shoplifting, the graffiti on the shutters at night. You can live with those things if you have to, you know. It isn’t nice, but you can live with them. But it never stops there. They never give up. Dogshit on the doorstep; odd phone calls in the middle of the night; stones through the windows; and then one day, it’s petrol through the letter-box and everything goes up in smoke . . .’

I should know. It nearly happened. An occult bookshop attracts attention, especially when it’s out of the city centre. Letters to the local press; leaflets condemning Hallowe’en; even a small demonstration outside the shop, with hand-written placards and half a dozen right-thinking members of the parish campaigning like mad to close us down.

‘Didn’t that happen in Lansquenet?’

‘Lansquenet was different.’

Her eyes flickered towards the door. I could feel her working it out in her mind. It was close, I could feel it, like static in the air—

‘Do it,’ I said.

She looked at me.

‘Do it. I promise there’s nothing to be afraid of.’

Her eyes were bright. ‘Maman says—’

‘Parents don’t know everything. And sooner or later you’re going to have to learn to look after yourself. Go on. Don’t be a victim, Nanou. Don’t let them make you run away.’

She thought about that, but I could tell my words had not yet struck home.

‘There’s worse things than running away,’ she said.

‘Is that what your mother says? Is that why she changed her name? Is that why she’s made you so scared? Why won’t you tell me what happened in Les Laveuses?’

That struck closer. But not close enough. Her face took on the stubborn, self-contained look that adolescent girls do so well; the look that says, you can talk and talk—

So I gave her a nudge. Just a little one. Made my colours iridesce; reached for the secret, whatever it was—

And then I saw it – but fleetingly – a series of pictures like smoke on water.

Water. That’s it. A river, I thought. And a silver cat, a little cat charm – both of them lit with a Hallowe’en light. I reached again, almost touching it now – then—

BAM!

It was like leaning against an electrified fence. A jolt went through me, knocking me back. The smoke dispersed; the image broke up; every nerve in my body seemed to jangle with electricity. I sensed that it was quite unplanned – a release of pent-up energy like that of a child stamping its foot – but if I’d had even half that power when I was her age . . .

Annie was looking at me, fists clenched.

I smiled at her. ‘You’re good,’ I said.