The book of spells was real after all. There was no doubt of that in her mind now. When she’d cast the spell with the little bottle, she had wanted it to work but she wasn’t entirely sure that it would. Then she’d thrown the bottle away into the field and the sheep and lambs had died. She wished they hadn’t, but it wasn’t as if they had names or anything; they weren’t loved. Then she’d directed the second spell at Mrs Thwaite, and what a result that had been! Gina laughed quietly to herself: it was possible Mrs Thwaite wasn’t loved either. She was a widow, her husband having been killed in the war, and Gina didn’t know if she had any living relatives. Gina was excited to think she could have conjured up the unusually heavy rain, but the flooded conservatory had not only seen off Mrs Thwaite, it had resulted in Gina being cast in an even more favourable light than usual with Mrs Stellion. Gina didn’t care at all that the house could have been flooded. The Stellions had lots of rooms to live in and lots of money to mend the roof. Oh, but it was fitting that it was the very room where Mrs Thwaite had told off Gina for sitting on the chair that had flooded. It was as if there was a pattern and, though she couldn’t see it at the time, everything that happened was connected. Exciting it may be, but it was also a little bit frightening. She must be very careful what she wished for when she next cast a spell. These incantations were like sparks to a powder keg.

Just now, however, she didn’t need to work any magic to get what she wanted. She had only to prepare and then listen to what Edith Stellion had to say.

There was a little gold-coloured bedside clock and Gina saw it was time to move. She slipped out into the corridor, made sure the coast was clear, and crept along to see what else there was. The next three rooms were all completely empty except for the furniture; the beds were bare, awaiting making up for guests. After that there was a nursery with a cot, a toy box, a rocking horse and shelves with boxes of board games and picture books. It was strange that the Stellions hadn’t got rid of all that stuff by now. Diana and James must be in their early twenties. Still, in a place this size you could keep as much old rubbish as you wanted and never be in your own way.