It was a long night in the library. The shadows of the tree grew tall and distorted against the walls. At first the walls were painted with the fading light of the day but then as night fell, it was the yellow glow of the streetlights.
Noises from the street seemed louder than Timi had ever heard them. He was sure that he wouldn’t be able to sleep.
The other children had crept down from the tree when they needed to rest and settled at the base of the trunk, amongst 94the curves of the floorboards that bowed and rose from the roots that were pushing up beneath them.
95But Timi stayed in the tree. His back was perfectly arched against a branch, and he couldn’t stop imagining how curled up Bisi’s body would become when she’d sink, asleep, in his mother’s arms.
Mum. She’d be worried about where he was. It wasn’t difficult to imagine her face. She might be very cross when she finally did find Timi again.
Where would she think he was? He hadn’t told her anything about the library of course and so she would have no idea he was here. He felt a sickness stir in his stomach when he thought about all the things she might be thinking.
Everyone else was asleep but Timi. He could hear their breathing – a gentle rhythm that made him think of waves and it was as if the tree itself was a boat, 96carrying him off somewhere.
At some point he must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, Mo was shouting his name and the room was full of voices - not just the voices of the children - that were shouting all around him.