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Caroline had always wondered what it might have been like if Mum had decided to join the official club, magic-wise - it hadn’t been for boys only since before Caroline was born - but when she’d said that out loud once Mum had gone on about patriarchal feudalism and unreasonable restrictions, which was a bit rich considering, but then that was Mum all over. Rules were for other people. That was, Caroline was now pretty sure, one of the reasons they hadn’t moved to England until the mid-nineties. Mum had broken the Folly’s rules, even if they probably didn’t know who she was, and was staying out of the way.
Anyway, by and large Caroline made an effort to stay out of the Folly’s way as well. And some of their hangers-on, like the one who was an actual Detective Inspector, or the Nightingale, inexplicably floating around even though Mum said he’d been old when she was younger than Caroline and in her drugs-sex-and-rock-and-roll phase. But nothing about the Folly had ever looked anything like a Somali woman in a really gorgeous red embroidered hijab and a black leather jacket - Hugo Boss, Caroline was pretty sure - trailed by a much more boringly dressed guy not too much shorter than Caroline.
“Can you tell me your name, please?” asked the hijabi woman.
"Can you tell me why I should?“ Caroline said, in her best impression of Mum, and tucked the notebook she’d just acquired a little further into the back of her trousers. The guy stuck his hands in his pockets and hung back a bit. The woman produced, of all things, a warrant card which proclaimed her to be Detective Sergeant Sahra Guleed; Caroline made a point of reading it properly.
"So, Sergeant Guleed,” she said once she was done. “What can I do for you?”
“Name and address,” the policewoman repeated, and her expression didn’t flicker when Carline gave her full name and title, although the guy raised his eyebrows and looked frankly skeptical.
“So, Lady Caroline,” she said once she’d finished writing. “Mind telling me what you’re doing here?”
“Or where you learned magic?” said the guy, but the good sergeant shot him a look.
“Magic?” said Caroline, widening her eyes. “You’re joking, right? Do I look like I belong to the Folly?”
“You were flying,” said the guy. “So it’s either the world’s tiniest jet pack or magic, and I know which one of those exists."
"Do you mind, Peter?” said DS Guleed, and he looked briefly guilty. “Sorry.”
“Is it legal for you to question me with someone who’s not a member of the police?” Caroline tilted her head inquiringly. She knew she’d got a hit when Guleed laughed and said “I’m not questioning you, you’d know about it if I was,” but didn’t actually answer the question. Caroline was pretty sure it was legal, actually, but she wanted to know who this Peter was, and he obviously wasn’t police.
“Look,” said Peter. “We’re wizards, and whatever flying spell you were using, that was amazing, I know someone who has an entire doctorate in physics and she swears it’s not possible. We should at least have a chat.”
Caroline was really tempted by the doctorate-in-physics thing, she had to say, but she could have sworn she knew all the non-Folly practitioners in London and she hadn’t met these two before. Then again…
“Sure,” she said. “If this isn’t questioning, then buy me a drink and we’ll talk.”
“Think I’ll have a ginger beer this time,” said Guleed, pursing her lips and tucking her notebook away. Peter sighed at the obvious implication, and nodded. “Alright, then.”
In retrospect, Caroline realised she’d been incredibly lucky Sahra hadn’t arrested her on the spot for breaking and entering and sorted it out later, especially since it turned out Sahra wasFolly, sort of, although there was way more going on there than she’d thought. And Mum had been keeping things from her, again.
Still. The whole mess was worth it to have people to talk properly to about the flying.