When Gina and Mavis returned to the Merrylife Hotel, Mavis looked like a different child.

‘Hello, girls. You’ve obviously had a nice time,’ said Mary, seeing Mavis’s glowing face.

‘Oh, Miss Hathersage, it was the best day of my entire life,’ grinned Mavis. ‘We’ve been all over, up the Tower and everything, and I saw some birds and polar bears, and I paddled in the sea, and Diana said it was all right if I drank some pop, and we ate fish and chips—’ She clamped a hand dramatically over her mouth at that point and Mary burst out laughing.

‘It’s all right, Mavis. I know people do when they go to the seaside. Mebbe your parents have done so, too.’

‘Perhaps in a café, but probably not out of a newspaper,’ smiled Mavis. ‘And I think they’re trying their best to be vegetarians.’

‘Well, they’re already back and in their room, so why don’t you go and tell them about your lovely day before dinner?’ suggested Mary.

Mavis ran off upstairs and Mary turned to Gina.

‘And what about you, Diana? Did you have a good time?’

‘Mebbe, Mary … mebbe it was the best day of my entire life,’ smiled Gina. ‘But I’m not quite sure.’ Then, for a second, the cheerfulness fell from her face and she looked stricken.

Mary gazed at her with a serious, interested face. ‘I hope you’ll tell me about your other days sometime, Diana. I’m a good listener …’

‘I’m fine,’ said Gina, and went up to take her outdoor things off and get ready to help prepare the food.

One Wednesday afternoon, Ellen and Sally took the strange little books of spells to show Mr Shepherd, just as Tom had suggested.

‘What have we here, I wonder,’ Mr Shepherd said, taking the book out of the paper bag Ellen had wrapped it in and looking at it with interest. ‘Not the kind of thing we usually discuss, eh, girls?’

‘I’m sworn to secrecy,’ said Sally. ‘Nell knows what it’s like at ours: nowt’s private and everything’s up for discussion.’

Ellen grinned at her trusted friend.

After Mr Shepherd had examined the book inside and out, he handed it back to Ellen.

‘It’s a pretty binding, or used to be when it was new, mebbe a couple of hundred years ago, but the content is nonsense – you know that, don’t you, Ellen?’

‘I certainly do, Mr Shepherd. I showed it to Mrs Travers in the village. She’s a kind of wise woman; delivers babies and sorts out ailments with her recipes. She knows all kinds of strange things that the rest of us might find hard to understand, and she said it was rubbish.’

‘Well, there you are, then, Ellen. You’ll have no need to waste your time reading it.’