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Stevie put her hands nervously to the tops of her thighs. ‘It felt like this catsuit had a bit more “suit” to it, in the store. It’s pretty . . . clingy,’ she said just over the music in the beer garden.

Margie was taking a breather after three hours of hurriedly serving drinks and advising two amorous mermaids in one of the booths to go somewhere more private before one of them lost a clamshell.

Her feet were up on the rim of a plant pot full of begonias and she was sipping a large G&T.

She winked at Stevie. ‘As my mum used to say, I can see what you had for breakfast in that. But – my darling – you are young and beautiful and free, why not show off what you’ve got?

And with all those sparkles, you’re like an extra glitter ball on the dance floor. You should be charging me a fee.’

Stevie smiled and fixed the placement of her cat ears. ‘Thank you.’

‘Though you’re wasting it out here. Susie will be due her break any minute. You two can tear it up with my full support. Life is for living. And speaking of which . . . ’

Abel hurried past them on his way inside, his mask on top of his head, a round tray of empty glasses balanced on each hand.

‘Are you taking a break any time soon, lad?’ Margie called.

Abel looked over his shoulder then down at the trays. ‘What do you expect me to do with this lot? The limbo?’

Margie cackled. ‘So much of your grandfather in you.’

Stevie noticed that Abel didn’t exactly seem pleased to hear this. In fact, by the way his jaw was moving it was like he was grinding his teeth. ‘When things are quieter, I’ll take my ten,’ he said finally, and quietly, disappearing inside.

‘Oh, I bet. Ten minutes is more than enough time to chat up my customers!’ She winked.

‘Gran,’ Abel said flatly, ‘I’m not interested in anyone in this village. You know that.’

Margie rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever you say, my boy.’

‘I’ll, um, see how Suse is doing.’ Stevie set off a few paces behind Abel, still very conscious of how tight her outfit was and cursing the unusually flattering mirrors in Try Again.

The pub was full to the brim and crackling with chatter and laughter: minotaurs squeezing past warlocks on their way to the loos, a leprechaun spilling the dregs of a Guinness on his curly green shoes.

There was not an inch of free space available at the bar.

The queue was at least three people deep.

But at the centre of it, an elbow leant on the polished wood and her false, jet-black lashes batting languidly, was Susie, who looked like she had all the time in the world to focus on just one customer.

Stevie had spotted him on her first night in The Witch’s Nose.

It was hard not to. He might not have been the tallest or broadest man in the room, but he was certainly the best dressed.

In her line of study, she could spot a pair of Italian handmade boots a mile off.

This guy wore well-tailored clothes with confidence.

Nothing about him screamed ‘Look at me!’ and somehow it made him all the more magnetic.

Tonight, he had made a small nod to the fancy dress theme: he’d gelled the curly chestnut hair at his temples into two horns and put kohl around his eyes. Some kind of devil. And the grin to match as he flirted with Susie at the bar.

‘Any chance of a pint?!’ a local yelled from the other end of the room and Susie rolled her eyes, walking slowly away to take some orders.

‘Keep a lid on it, you rabid crew,’ Margie hollered as she emerged from the kitchen doors and the whole place cheered.

In a flash she was passing out drinks and clearing a little of the backlog.

Stevie saw her beckon to Susie, whisper something in her ear with a roll of the eyes and then point in the direction of the barn.

Susie tried to look chastened, but her happy yelp escaped her all the same.

She found Stevie in the crowd as she ducked under the bar’s flap opening and pushed her way over.

‘I’m free for half an hour. Dance?!’

‘Yes, totally! What about your friend, though?’

‘Hm?’

‘The guy at the bar. The devil incarnate ?’

Susie bit down a smile at one corner of her mouth. ‘Oh, Mark. He’s staying in the campsite. We’ve been chatting the last couple of nights.’

‘ He’s staying at the campsite? Really?’

‘Yeah. Why?’

Stevie snuck a casual glance back in his direction, at the crisp claret shirt he wore with an impeccable collar, and his very clean shave. ‘He doesn’t look like he’s just stumbled out of a tent, to me. ’

Susie grabbed Stevie’s arm. ‘Wait, can you hear that?! They’re playing our anthem!’ She dragged her new friend through the jam-packed crowd. It was like trying to pull a whippet through a colander.

‘Hey! Ouch. Wait up!’

As they finally emerged into the more spacious but just as sweaty dance hall, Stevie had a chance to tune in to what was playing. ‘Is that Kate Bush?’

At the centre of the dance floor, right under the glitter ball, they found Temperance, and Susie instantly mirrored her sister’s body language: grinning madly, flopping their arms back and forth in the air like willow trees in a hurricane.

About five or so other women were part of the waving act, bursting into song all around her.

Dry ice rolled around them in huge waves, making Stevie panic for a minute that she’d lose her new friends all together.

‘HeeeaaaaathCLIFF!’

‘It’s ME! Cathy! I’ve come home now!’

Temperance clocked Stevie and squealed. ‘Stevie, don’t you love this song?! It’s our absolute classic. We used to do the dance on the green when we were little and charge people to watch,’ she yelled over the speakers.

‘What dance?’ the intern yelled back in total innocence.

She might as well have said she’d never tasted ice cream or never dipped her toes in the sea.

‘WE HAVE TO TEACH YOU!’ Temperance pretty much shouted in her face.

Her eyes were glossy but focused as she pulled Stevie to stand right next to her.

‘It’s an essential part of English culture!

And you did say you wanted the full English experience this year, right?

Now wait for the chorus to start again and then follow me.

Or just move your hands past your face like this, like you’re clearing a really fogged up mirror. OK?’

‘I think!’

Susie nodded. ‘You’ll get it in no time! It’s so fun, seriously.’

The chorus started again and the women fell into a rough and tumble synchronicity of howling the lyrics while they wove around the space, all wild hair and limbs and massive smiles. Stevie agreed – this was serious fun.

All too soon the song had finished and half of their Cathy gang retreated to find a drink. The next song started, a little quieter, slower and even more intense, and Nina Simone starting singing deliciously about spells and romance. ‘Oooh, this a good song for tonight.’

‘Always a good song in my view, right Tee?’ Susie grinned wolfishly. ‘But a bit of a couple’s dance though.’

‘Ugh, I’m fed up waiting for the perfect man to come along. I don’t need one to have a good time!’ Temperance replied, starting to move to the hypnotic tempo.

Susie gave a dirty laugh. ‘That dress is really getting to you. And that belt . . .’

‘Huh?’ Stevie asked. ‘How is the dress getting to her ?’

‘Nothing. I’m just glad she’s going for it tonight. I hope this feisty fairy princess is here to stay.’

‘She is!’ Temperance yelled. ‘No overthinking. No so much as a slight frown. Because you’re miiiiine .’ She closed her eyes as she sang.

Susie’s eyes flicked to the doorway and back again. ‘You know, dancing is a pretty good first step to falling in love. Body contact. Chemistry. All that.’

‘But you’re forgetting I’ve already been out with all the available men in South Devon. I did not want their bodies anywhere near me and the chemistry didn’t so much as set off a Bunsen burner.’ She wonkily shook her head.

‘So try something . . . new.’

‘Show me someone new and I will!’

‘Deal.’ Susie sloped off and Temperance went back to closing her eyes and dancing without thinking.

It was a relief to push away the worries about the doom , even just for a few hours.

Whatever was going on – with the dreams, the fact that Abel had experienced the exact same one and the swirling feelings in her head and heart – it could wait until tomorrow.

He’d agreed to stay for a week, so that gave her time. Tonight, she needed to have fun.

Even through her boozy fog, the glow of love wrapping around Temperance was having an effect.

She felt freer in her body, twirling on the spot, letting her hands trail out as she closed her eyes and gave in to the music.

Occasionally her fingertips would accidentally graze a costume and pulses of other people’s happiness hit her lungs, making her dance more, sing more, smile more.

Nothing about nudging someone else on the dance floor and laughing was weird, not on FairyFest night, and Temperance felt an illicit thrill of letting her powers off the leash, subtly sampling the emotions in the room.

The magic woke up in her as she opened herself up fully to it without a worry about being caught or judged.

Energy danced along every hair on her arms, the pins and needles feeling not just in her fingers but at the tips of her ears, behind her neck, down her thighs.

Temperance sat happily in the knowledge of what she was: a witch.

‘Here’s someone to dance with,’ Susie suddenly breathed in her ear, spinning Temperance around to find a blushing Scout who only reached her shoulders.

‘Oh, hi, Dexter. You don’t have to dance with me really: Susie’s just being . . . well, her usual dickish self. Don’t let her embarrass you.’

‘No, I want to,’ his voice squeaked. And he took her right hand and waist like it was a waltz.