His bedroom was a mess. The empty bottle of champagne lay on the floor by the door. Three mugs, higgledy-piggledy on the chest of drawers. The curtains were wide open, swirls of dust caught in sunbeams. He washed in the porcelain sink, glugged a glass of tap water, pulled on some clean clothes and then went down.

The heaviness that had enveloped the house had lifted. He practically pranced along the corridor and down the stairs. But nobody was about, and there was a curious stillness in the air. Not even a kettle boiling on the range.

After he’d mucked out, fed and watered the horse, and let him into the field, he came back into the kitchen, checked there was enough in Leana’s bowl and made some tea for himself. He took it into the hall to drink it in the sunlight by the window.

Zita was reclining on some cushions on the floor, the gramophone quietly playing jazz. Kit was leaning against the wall, clad in his customary black. Of course, thought Tom, he won’t have any other clothes. The grandfather clock was chiming ten o’clock.

‘Breakfast?’ said Tom. ‘I can’t remember when I last had a proper breakfast. Eggs. Sausages!’

Kit glanced mournfully up at Tom.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘There be a hole,’ said Kit, ‘in Long Pightle fence.’ Then the boy was silent once more and started fiddling with his collar.

‘We’ve been talking …’ said Zita. She swallowed the end of her sentence. They were both hunched, heads drooping.

Tom felt a wrench in his chest. He clutched the back of a chair. They were going to leave him. He was going to be left alone again.

‘I do not ken this mad world. I cannot live out there.’ Kit spoke carefully and lankily unfolded himself from his position, indicating the outside world with a nod of his head.

‘I’m not sure about it either.’ Zita suddenly sounded exactly like a schoolmistress. ‘What on earth would I do? And at the same time, you can’t stay here, Tommy boy. You’ve got a year left at school, haven’t you? You’ll be going back and then to the Varsity and everything.’ She tapped her fingers against her lips. ‘Who knows, you may even end up a QC.’

What is this? Tom thought. They had planned out his future for him? What did they think, that he would return to his previous life, meekly? When he’d just discovered the world of magic, when he was sensing the edges and contours of the powers that had opened up to him, like a flower after a storm …