The old lady returned her slipper to her foot.
“Now then, Peter Collins. There is one final matter.”
“Yes, madam?”
“You must promise me something.”
“What?”
“If you should ever find yourself in my garden again, you must not touch the seven apples.”
“Why not?”
“Because each apple contains a different dream.”
Peter considered this.
“What sort of dreams?”
Mrs Thistlewick leaned forward.
“One contains a dream of the past. Another, a dream of the future. A third allows you to hear the thoughts of animals.”
“And the others?”
The old lady smiled.
“Ah! Those are the dangerous ones.”
Peter looked towards Sebastian.
The enormous black cat was watching him intently.
“Can he really talk?” Peter whispered.
“Of course I can,” replied Sebastian.
Peter gave a tremendous start.
Mrs Thistlewick chuckled.
“Now, young man, I think it is time you went home.”
“But how?”
The old lady took a little silver bell from her pocket.
She rang it once.
Ting!
The room began to shimmer.
She rang it twice.
Ting! Ting!
The candles went out.
She rang it a third time.
And everything disappeared.
