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“Shivering’s a good sign,” said Marcia briskly, then clicked her fingers. “Wet clothes off.”

The ridiculous sentry uniform flew off the boy and fluttered to the floor in a garish damp heap.

“You’re rubbish,” Marcia told it, and the uniform dismally gathered itself together and dripped over to the rubbish chute, where it threw itself in and disappeared.

Marcia smiled. “Good riddance,” she said. “Now, dry clothes on.”

A pair of warm pajamas appeared on the boy, and his shivering became a little less violent.

“Good,” said Marcia. “We’ll just sit with him for a while and let him warm up. He’ll be fine.”

Jenna settled herself down on a rug by the fire, and soon two steaming mugs of hot milk appeared. Marcia sat down beside her. Suddenly Jenna felt shy. The ExtraOrdinary Wizard was sitting next to her on the floor, just like Nicko did. What should she say? Jenna couldn’t think of anything at all, except that her feet were cold, but she was too embarrassed to take her boots off.

“Best get those boots off,” said Marcia. “They’re soaking.”

Jenna unlaced her boots and pulled them off.

“Look at your socks. What a state,” Marcia tutted.

Jenna went red. Her socks had previously belonged to Nicko, and before that they had been Edd’s. Or were they Erik’s? They were mostly darns and far too big for her.

Jenna waggled her toes by the fire and dried her feet.

“Would you like some new socks?” asked Marcia.

Jenna nodded shyly. A pair of thick, warm purple socks appeared on her feet.

“We’ll keep the old ones though,” said Marcia. “Clean,” she told them. “Fold.” The socks did what they were told; they shook off the dirt, which landed in a sticky pile on the hearth, then they neatly folded themselves up and lay down by the fire next to Jenna. Jenna smiled. She was glad Marcia hadn’t called Sarah’s best darning rubbish.

The midwinter afternoon drew on, and the light began to fade. The sentry boy had at last stopped shivering and was sleeping peacefully. Jenna was curled up by the fire, looking at one of Marcia’s Magyk picture books when there was a frantic banging on the door.

“Come on, Marcia. Open the door. It’s me!” came an impatient voice from outside.

“It’s Dad!” yelled Jenna.

“Shh…” said Marcia. “It might not be.”

“For goodness’ sake, open the door, will you?” said the impatient voice.

Marcia did a quick Translucent Spell. Sure enough, to her irritation, outside the door stood Silas and Nicko. But that wasn’t all. Sitting next to them, with its tongue lolling out and drool dribbling down its fur, was the wolf, wearing a spotted neckerchief.

Marcia had no choice but to let them in.

“Open!” Marcia abruptly told the door.

“Hello, Jen.” Nicko grinned. He stepped carefully onto Marcia’s fine silk carpet, closely followed by Silas and the wolf, whose madly wagging tail swept Marcia’s treasured collection of Fragile-Fairy pots crashing to the floor.

“Nicko! Dad!” yelled Jenna and hurled herself into Silas’s arms. It felt like months since she had seen him. “Where’s Mum. Is she all right?”

“She’s fine,” said Silas. “She’s gone to Galen’s with the boys. Nicko and I just came by to give you this.” Silas fished around in his deep pockets. “Hang on,” he said. “It’s here somewhere.”

“Are you mad?” Marcia demanded. “What do you think you are doing, coming here? And get that wretched wolf away from me.”

The wolf was busy dribbling over Marcia’s python shoes.

“He’s not a wolf,” Silas told her. “He’s an Abyssinian wolfhound descended from the Maghul Maghi wolfhounds. And his name is Maximillian. Although, he might allow you to call him Maxie for short. If you’re nice to him.”

“Nice!” spluttered Marcia, almost speechless.

“Thought we might stay over,” Silas carried on, tipping out the contents of a small grubby sack over Marcia’s ebony and jade Ouija table and sifting through them. “It’s too dark now to go into the Forest.”

“Stay? Here?”

“Dad! Look at my socks, Dad,” said Jenna, waggling her toes in the