Peter stared at the old lady.
“I don’t know how I got here,” he said at last.
Mrs Thistlewick raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t know?”
“No, madam.”
“Do you expect me to believe that you simply appeared in my garden?”
“Well, yes, madam.”
Mrs Thistlewick looked closely at him.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
Peter took a deep breath.
“I went to bed at home. I was wearing these pyjamas, and I remember Mother coming upstairs to say goodnight.”
“Go on.”
“Then I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, I was standing in your garden.”
Mrs Thistlewick’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Peter noticed.
“Did you see anything unusual?” she asked.
“Yes, madam. There were glowing mushrooms and whispering flowers and an apple tree with seven red apples.”
The old lady became very still.
“Seven apples?”
“Yes, madam.”
“On the tree beside the sundial?”
“That’s right!”
Mrs Thistlewick slowly lowered her slipper.
“Well, well,” she murmured.
She rose and crossed the room towards the enormous leather-bound book.
Peter watched as she turned its yellowing pages.
At last, she stopped.
“Tell me, Peter. Did the sundial point towards midnight?”
“Yes!”
“Even though the clock was striking one?”
Peter stared.
“How did you know?”
Mrs Thistlewick closed the book.
“Because, my dear boy, you have wandered into something rather more complicated than an ordinary garden.”
“What do you mean?”
The old lady returned to her chair.
“That garden only appears in dreams.”
Peter blinked.
“Dreams?”
“Precisely.”
“But your cats chased me!”
“Naturally. They are the guardians.”
“Guardians of what?”
Mrs Thistlewick smiled mysteriously.
“That is something you are not yet ready to know.”
