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‘I saw him on Britain’s Got Talent last year. He made that posh tart levitate. God, she was screaming the whole time. I was there thinking, my God, pull yourself together, woman. I mean, it’s all faked, isn’t it? Certainly looked impressive though. And the magician … he was a real dish.’ She gave a long, drawn out sigh. ‘It’s a shame the support staff don’t get the same perks as you classroom lot.’

Charlotte smiled. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to find a spare ticket from somewhere.’

Maud sighed again. ‘Oh, I doubt that, budgets being what they are. Talking of budgets, particularly for electricity, are you about done?’

‘I’ll just grab my bag.’

‘Good. This school won’t shut itself, more’s the pity.’

Charlotte headed home. The rain started spitting just as she reached the entrance to Sycamore Park, so instead of cutting across, she took the long route around the park’s outside, stopping in at a takeaway on Parkside Road for a bag of chips and a battered sausage, only realising as the server took her order that she’d ordered Grandma’s favourite. Shaking off the sudden feeling of loneliness, she tried to distract herself by looking over the local notices on a board in the corner while she waited. A couple of part-time jobs. A litter of kittens that needed a home. Requests for electrical items from a local charity shop, which was also looking for volunteers. A dog-eared advert for a window cleaner, another ad for a dog-sitter, which she took a picture of with her phone. Now that Grandma had passed on, she would need to find someone to give Harry a little attention. School hours could be long, and Harry wouldn’t be happy stuck in the house all day.

Just as the server called her forward for her order, the door opened behind her. Charlotte wouldn’t have even turned, but the server, a young girl probably from the secondary school, stared past Charlotte’s shoulder as though she’d seen a ghost. Charlotte pocketed her change and took her order. Then, as she turned to leave, she let out a little gasp and nearly dropped the plastic bag on the floor.

A man had entered. He was tall, perhaps six-foot-six, towering over the other customers. Wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a knee-length leather jacket open over a wine-red waistcoat and a belt that had a gold buckle, he looked like he’d stepped out of a Quentin Tarantino film. Like the other customers, Charlotte found herself gravitating to the nearest wall as he approached the terrified girl on the counter.

White gloves rose, making figures in the air. Eyes ringed with black eyeliner narrowed, a thinly bearded chin jutted, a smug smile appeared. A hissing sound came from somewhere, then with a pop and a sudden burst of smoke, a poster appeared in his hands.

‘Oh my God,’ cried a woman cowering beside Charlotte. ‘Oh my God, it’s him.’

The man didn’t seem to hear her. He stared at the server who was regarding him with absolute terror. Then a small smile creased his lips.

‘James Steamblack, master illusionist. I would be honoured if you would find a place for this poster.’ He flapped his hand and a spread of cards appeared in his fingers, a perfect semi-circle. ‘Discounts for all staff. Here.’

The server was visibly shaking. The woman beside Charlotte was repeating ‘Oh my God,’ over and over.

Steamblack glanced around at the assembled customers. For a brief second, his gaze lingered on Charlotte. His eyes were dark green, like a cat’s.

‘I’m a little hungry,’ he said. His left hand twisted and a tissue appeared. Then, he leaned down, putting his right hand against the sloping glass of the display counter. Just inside was a stack of battered sausages. Steamblack let out a sharp cry, slapped his right hand against the glass and lifted it, a battered sausage balancing on his palm, which he swiftly passed into his left and enclosed in the tissue.

The server looked about to faint. Steamblack reached out with his now empty right hand, twisted it next to her ear, then waved a five-pound note in the air before putting it down on the counter.

‘You take cash, don’t you?’

The server gave a dumb nod.

‘Keep the change. See you at the show.’ He turned, eyes passing over the other customers. ‘See … all of you.’

With a flourish of his cloak, he turned and marched out, jumping into a Lexus idling outside. The moment the car was gone, the inside of the takeaway erupted into chaos. The woman next to Charlotte screamed, ‘He’s so handsome!’ far louder than was necessary, while across the room, a man was saying to his friend, ‘You didn’t see him eat it, did you? It was totally plastic, one of them magic shop props,’ while, behind the counter, the girl had disappeared. A moment later, another worker rushed out of the kitchen, squatted down, flapping a paper fan. As the server who had fainted got up, she opened her eyes and looked around. ‘I thought he was going to make me disappear,’ she muttered. ‘I saw him do that on the telly.’

Charlotte eased her way through the commotion and slipped outside. The rain was getting heavier. Halfway up the street, the Lexus had stopped outside a Chinese takeaway, but keen to avoid any more drama, Charlotte crossed the street, cutting through an alleyway that would take a couple of minutes off her journey.

Harry was pleased to see her, jumping up and down and making a fuss, although without quite the same wild enthusiasm he had before Grandma had died. Dogs were loyal to their first owner, she knew, and although she had known Harry as a puppy, he had been Grandma’s constant companion. Still, she would do what she could, maybe finding a sitter for him during the day.

The house, as always, felt empty without Grandma. Charlotte fed Harry, then loaded her own food onto a cushion tray and sat down in front of the television. There was nothing good on terrestrial, so she browsed the streaming services on the smart TV, and there, to her surprise, was a recommendation for a special by James Steamblack. Titled Illusion at the Speed of Light, she found herself clicking on the programme.

Harry jumped up and sat down on the sofa beside her, no doubt wanting to steal a couple of chips. Charlotte patted the dog’s back.

‘We’ll be all right,’ she said. ‘Me and you. Won’t we?’

The programme began to play, opening with a burst of fireworks and an entire steam locomotive appearing out of the back wall of a theatre.

It was all illusion, she knew. But if it helped to take her mind off things for a while, then all the better.