Peter woke with a start.
He was lying in his own bed.
Sunlight streamed through the curtains.
His blue-striped pyjamas were perfectly dry.
For several moments, he stared at the ceiling.
Then he sat up.
“What a dream!”
He looked at the clock.
Half-past eight.
From downstairs came his mother’s voice.
“Peter! Breakfast!”
“Coming, Mother!”
He climbed out of bed.
But as he reached for his dressing gown, he noticed something lying on his bedside table.
It was a small red apple.
Attached to its stalk was a little piece of parchment.
On it, written in beautiful old-fashioned handwriting, were the words:
Dear Peter,
I trust you slept well after your unexpected visit.
Remember what I told you about the apples.
And next time, kindly use the front gate.
Yours sincerely,
Agatha Thistlewick.
Peter stared at the note.
Then he turned it over.
On the other side were just seven words:
THE CATS WILL ALWAYS KNOW YOU ARE THERE.
From somewhere outside his bedroom window came a familiar sound.
“Meeeeow!”
Peter rushed to the curtains.
Sitting on the garden wall was an enormous black cat.
Sebastian.
The cat looked directly at him.
Then, very slowly, it winked.
And Peter Collins knew that his adventures with the Witch of Keere Street were very far from over.
