“Yes, they’re sort of like a wildspark, from beyond,” said another apprentice. “But you can only briefly see them at the new moon. If you capture one, it stays until the next. We do it every moon-cycle. You’ll soon see!”

“Hurry up now. Don’t forget your jars!” Lavender called.

They ate hurriedly, then gathered the rest of the light jars and carefully packed them into backpacks. Then they checked the gossamer fine nets lined up in the hallway to make sure there were no holes.

They all streamed down to the pneumerator. “Come along, ten at a time, we’ll soon all be there, no need to push,” said Liddy.

Once at the factorium they gathered on the front lawn. Everyone was instructed to take a jar and stood in a great line with Lavender in the middle.

The apprentices held their jars up to the sky. Prue looked at Agapantha.

“Well, this is a bit weird,” said Prue.

Lavender cleared her throat and launched into a poem:

“At full moon’s gate

We wish you well,

Spirit stars of light.

We thank you for your everglow

And return you to the night.”

Then she unscrewed her jar and the light shot out. With a fizzle it was away.

Everybody else started unscrewing their jars. It was suddenly as though fireworks had been set off and the lights shot into the air, leaving a shimmering trail in their wake, dancing off into the night air. Then the apprentices all sat on the lawn and waited until the very last sliver of sun had disappeared somewhere behind Medlock.

“All right, spread out everyone. Nets at the ready,” Liddy said.

“What are we waiting for?” said Prue.

“Why, for the lights to return, of course!” Lavender laughed.

“So, we released them, and now we’re going to catch them again?” said Prue.

“Not the same spirit lights! Oh, dear no, that would not do. They stay with us until the next full moon is approaching then we release them back and catch a whole new set of spirit lights. Just wait, they’ll be here soon.”

Prue watched the night sky, eagerly looking for more lights. In Staplefield, when it was the end of the harvest, fireworks were set off. She and Francis would climb out of his bedroom window where the ledge made it possible to edge along to the roof, and scramble to the top.

“Francis, Mum is going to kill us if she finds out.”

“Best not tell her, then.” He laughed, swung his other leg out of the window, then disappeared.

“Francis!” Prue whispered urgently. She heard the door to her parents’ room close.