Polly hears a low murmuring noise pulling her up through her dreams. The voice gets louder and louder.

‘Polleee. Polleeeee …’

She opens one eye and then the other, her head still groggy with sleep. Buster is leaning right over her, peering into her face.

He has opened the curtains and pale sunlight streams in through the little round window. ‘Are you awake?’ he asks hopefully.

‘I am now!’ Polly says, rubbing her eyes and yawning. ‘What time is it?’

‘I don’t know, but I’m hungry.’ Buster says. ‘Can you smell something?’

Polly giggles. ‘Right now all I can smell is your breath.’ she says, pulling the blanket back over her head.

Buster jerks Polly’s blanket off her in one tug. ‘Aw, come on, Polly!’ he says. ‘This is the first day of our adventure!’

Although she is still sleepy, Polly grins to see her very best friend at the end of her bed. Buster is right. They have just had their first sleepover!

She scrambles out of bed and the two of them race to be first in the kitchen, where they find Flora already sitting at the table, a big pot of tea in front of her. She is dressed in a traditional witch smock, faded to grey, with a white lace collar and a bulky yellow knitted cardigan over the top. Her hair is a halo of frizzy pink. When she takes a sip of tea from her little bortal-shaped cup, Polly can smell lavender and bergamot and sunshine. Flora smiles at them as they run in and her cheeks bloom pink from the tea.

Mortimer is at the stove in a frilly apron and floral shorts, cooking something that smells amazing. Buster’s tummy growls in appreciation.

‘Just in time,’ Mortimer says. He places a massive stack of flipcakes in the middle of the table and drizzles them with syrup. Polly watches in amazement as it
crackles and fizzes,
shooting little sparks up to the ceiling.

‘Sparkle syrup,’ Mortimer winks. ‘An old witch favourite of Flora’s. Pull up a chair!’

‘Oh, thank you.’ Buster sighs like he hasn’t eaten a thing for days, and slides into a seat beside Polly.

‘Has Miss Spinnaker left yet?’ Polly asks, reaching for a flipcake. She dips her finger in a little of the syrup and is delighted to discover it tastes as fizzy as it looks. Her mother never cooks with magic ingredients anymore. Only boring foods like thistleweeds and mealworms.

‘Oh yes,’ Flora chuckles. ‘Iris was up hours ago. Don’t look like that, popkin! She won’t be long. We’ll have fun together this morning. Won’t we, Mortimer?’

‘You bet!’ says Mortimer, tossing the frypan in his great big paw so that the flipcakes

Polly knows her mother would freak if she found out she had been left in a house with a monster. Aside from Buster’s family and the straggly bunch of monsters his mother takes in, Polly has never really spent much time with other monsters. She still finds it hard to believe Mortimer lives here. With Miss Spinnaker’s mother!

‘I like Mortimer,’ Buster whispers to Polly through mouthfuls of food, his lips sparkling with syrup. ‘He makes very good flipcakes.’

Polly takes a bite. It’s true. Mortimer’s flipcakes are excellent. And she has never eaten anything quite as wondrous as Flora’s sparkle syrup! Polly studies Miss Spinnaker’s stepfather carefully as she eats. He is tall and lanky, with broad, hairy shoulders and massive hands and feet. He moves like a monster, with big sweeping gestures, and he has a booming monstery voice, but whenever he comes close to Flora, he almost always pauses to give her a toothy smile or plant a gentle kiss on her head. And when Flora looks back up at him, she blushes like a young witchling.

Polly knows her mother adored her father, but she doesn’t remember them ever acting like this. Like two bluebirds in love. And the more Polly watches Flora and Mortimer together, the less weird it seems, until she has almost forgotten that Mortimer is a monster.

‘Do you think I could use your phone to call my mum?’ Polly asks, after she has finished breakfast. ‘She must be so worried by now!’

Flora looks at Polly, a smear of syrup on her chin. ‘Oh, we don’t have anything fancy like that. Morty, imagine? Us having one of those phone-gadget thingies!’ She snorts. ‘Who would we call anyway? No, we only have a broken down crystal ball, which I use to keep an eye on my grandchildren. It doesn’t tune well these days though. But don’t worry. Iris sent a message on a nighthawk last night to let your parents know you’re both safe. And you’ll be home in no time. Now, why don’t you go outside and play while you’re waiting for her? Mortimer and I can tidy the kitchen. Go on, off you go!’

‘All right,’ Polly says, dragging Buster from the table. He stares longingly at the few remaining flipcakes on the plate, swimming in sparkle syrup. ‘Come on, Buster. Let’s go and find a good tree to climb.’