Primrose looked taken aback. And was that even a bit of hurt in the flattening of her lips? “I only ask because I can help, if you need help,” she said crisply.

“I don’t need help,” Mika said. Fortunately, she had a cast-iron excuse for her presence in Norfolk, one that would distract totally from a beautiful, lonely house on the coast. “I went to UEA over the weekend. A class reunion.”

Primrose blinked. “Do they invite you to reunions if you don’t graduate?”

“Apparently,” said Mika, her smile just this side of robotic. Primrose knew exactly why she’d dropped out of university a year early. “Anyway, while I was there, I saw him.”

“Him,” Primrose repeated, in the voice she might have used if she’d said bird shit or full-fat milk.

For once, Mika was in complete agreement with Primrose. “Yep. Him. We had a bit of a row. I’m not proud of it, but I lost my temper. Not in front of him, or anyone else, but outside.”

“I see,” said Primrose, and she actually sounded sympathetic. Mika almost felt guilty for the lie. “That is regrettable, but understandable. You’re quite certain no one noticed anything? Because I can—”

“Wipe their memories?” Mika said a little bitterly. “No, that won’t be necessary. No one saw me.”

There was a pause, during which Mika demolished another scone, drank a full cup of tea and poured a second, and Primrose took all of two dainty sips. After a moment, Primrose said, “We all have types of magic we excel in. For me, it’s the manipulation of memory. I am aware that you don’t like it, but it has gotten you, me, and a number of other witches out of tight spots over the years. You, on the other hand, excel at potion-making. And my late sister, may she rest in—”

Mika blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“My late sister?” Primrose repeated doubtfully. “Yes, she—”

“No, what you said before that.”

“Oh. Potions, dear. That’s what you excel at.”

“You think I’m good at potion-making?”

“Of course. You’ve always had such a knack for the creation and conjuring of potions. Your teas, in particular, are extraordinary. Indeed, at least a third of the most powerful potions in my spellbook are yours.”

Mika felt like she’d fallen into a parallel universe between one bite of scone and the next. “Is that a compliment?”

Primrose sniffed. “You needn’t act like I’ve never given you one before.”

Mika was quite certain she never had, but resisted the temptation to say so. Instead, she said, “So you’re not cross, then, that I lost control of my power?”

“It happens,” said Primrose. “I wish that man didn’t still have so much power over you, but it is what it is.”