Chapter 20

Tilly knew she was dreaming this time, even though she was in the dream too.

She was outside, at the gate. The fox led the way, like the last time, through the wet grass and under the trees, past the fallen rose and the newly repaired den, the bramble patch, into the woods.

Tilly looked for things to remember the way: landmarks she could find in the daylight, by herself, but it was hard, in the dark, to see anything very much, and it was all the same: trees and prickly bushes and dead leaves and fallen branches; ghostly ropes of old creeper that swayed and rustled. It smelled of damp and decay and rot, musty old smells like forgotten cupboards and blocked drains.

The dark got less black as they came out of the trees, onto grass. But where before there had been a huge round lawn with stone statues, and a pond and the house with its open front door, light spilling onto the gravel path, now it was all empty and dark. The lawn was a tangle of overgrown grass and bushes; no one had cut it for years. The blank windows of the empty house looked like hollow eyes.

She knew there was no point going forward. The house was deserted and the girl Helen was long gone.

“Take me home!” Tilly whispered.

But the fox had disappeared.

Tilly was alone in the dark, and she had no idea how to find the way back.

Granny was there again, sitting on the bed. “It’s all right, Tilly,” she said. “You’re safe in bed, and everything’s fine.”

Tilly blinked. The light was glowing on the bedside table, making shadows around the room.

“You’ve been dreaming again,” Granny said. “That’s all.”

Tilly looked at the clock. “Five o’clock,” she said. “That’s nearly morning.”

“Yes. But it won’t be light for another two hours, Tilly. So go back to sleep, yes? Please try.”

Tilly nodded.

“Should I leave the light on?”

“Yes.”

When Granny had gone back to her own room again, Tilly got out of bed to look out the window. It was snowing properly now, huge feathery flakes filling the sky, whirling down. Tilly watched it for ages.

Little by little, the horrible empty feeling from the dream drained away.

Little by little, as she sat at the window, a new feeling came. A sort of fizzing, tingling feeling, that started at the tips of her toes and went right through her, to the top of her head.

The feeling that comes when something exciting is about to happen…

Tilly watched the falling snow until her feet were too cold to bear, and then she crept back into bed and snuggled under the covers.

Outside, the garden filled softly with snow.