Over the past weeks, all three girls had mastered the simple animation spell Mika had set them to work on in their first lesson. Now that they could make a single pebble do whatever they wanted it to, she’d moved them on to a more advanced version of the spell, one that would require more concentration and control. She’d given them each a small wooden doll, the articulated kind that artists often used to create poses for their reference, and she had asked them to cast a spell that would make the dolls stand, sit down, and walk independently.

“You can animate a single, rounded object,” she’d explained when she’d handed them the dolls. “Now it’s time to animate something more complicated. When you animate a doll, the only way to create smooth, natural movements is by enchanting its hands, arms, legs, waist, and neck separately and simultaneously. If you can master that, you’ll be well on your way to controlling your power.”

Now, the younger girls grumbled as they concentrated on their dolls. Rosetta, who had already spent an hour practicing with hers, went happily back to Persuasion.

She didn’t get much further before they were interrupted by Jamie, who marched in, sent the girls away on an errand that Mika was quite certain he’d made up on the spot, and shut the door firmly behind them once they were gone.

“Listening ears,” he explained. He picked up the copy of Persuasion Rosetta had left behind, briefly distracted. “It was Pride and Prejudice last week. I hope she gets to Emma soon. That was always my favourite.”

“Mine too,” Mika said, surprised. “My enthusiasm for the classics is usually tepid, but I’m a sucker for Austen.”

She noticed that Jamie had her phone in his hand. She must have left it downstairs the day of the Disaster, as the children were now referring to it, and she hadn’t given it so much as a moment’s thought since. (Which was unusual, and a sign of just how successfully she had been entertained.) How the battery hadn’t died yet was anyone’s guess. Maybe Lucie, that model of efficiency, had plugged it in.

“You got a text,” Jamie said warily.

Yes, such was the barren wasteland of her social life that this was the first text her phone had received in three days. (And the one before that had been from her service provider, reminding her to pay her bill.)

But Jamie’s mood and the fact that he’d shut the door told her it wasn’t just any old text. As she took the phone from him and the screen lit up, a tiny knot of dread formed in her chest.

Let’s have tea on Thursday. 3pm. You may choose where.

Primrose, of course.

“It’s Wednesday,” Mika said. Which was nothing if not stating the obvious.