by Julia Green
“Of course not! I helped you to make it even better. Didn’t you notice?”
“The rose hips and things?”
“Yes, and I put more bracken and grass and moss over the branches, to make it stronger and more rainproof. You can sit in here when it’s raining and it hardly comes in at all.”
“How many times have you been here?” Tilly asked.
“Lots. I bring a book sometimes and read. Or make things, like necklaces, from berries and things I find. Or just hide quietly, so I can watch the birds and the animals and no one can see me.”
“Did you find the butterfly clip?” Tilly said shyly. “It was to say thank you, for finding the little cradle I lost. It was you, wasn’t it?”
“Yes!” The girl turned her head, so Tilly could see the butterfly in her red-brown hair. It glinted in the candlelight, not rusty at all anymore. “I really wanted to keep the cradle…it was so pretty. But I knew it must be yours. And the clip is pretty too.”
“Will you be here tomorrow?” Tilly asked. “Can I come and play?”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” the girl said. “I come and I go. It’s time for me to go now!”
“Me too,” Tilly said. She wriggled through the door after the girl, out into the garden. It was darker than ever. The wind must have blown out all the candles on the fir tree. Clouds covered the moon.
“Good-bye! Merry Christmas! See you soon!” The girl was already running off into the night. She turned once, briefly, to wave at Tilly, before she disappeared under the trees.
I forgot to ask her name, Tilly thought. Next time…
It was early morning. Tilly turned over in her bed. As she moved her feet, she heard the rustle of the Christmas stocking. She moved her toes again, to feel the delicious weight of it. She reached out for the clock on the bedside table. Six o’clock. It was still too early to wake up Mom and Dad, to go rushing through to their room to open her presents.
She turned on the bedside light, reached down, and pulled the stocking up so she could see it properly. It was stuffed to the top with small packages all wrapped up in pink shiny paper with silver stars. Tilly pulled at the top one, undid one end, and then put it back, suddenly guilty. She must wait for morning.
The bubble of happiness inside her was growing bigger and stronger. It was Christmas. Mom would be coming downstairs for once, to be with her and Dad all day. And she had a new friend at last. A girl a little like her, and a little bit like Ally…
Tilly lay quietly in bed, waiting for the day to begin.
Chapter 13
Tilly lay on the rug in the living room, staring up at the Christmas tree. It was nearly teatime. Mom dozed on the sofa, her Christmas present book from Dad open by her side.
If Tilly squinted her eyes, the tree lights looked magical; they shone and danced like the real candles that Dad had lit all along the fireplace.
Tilly kept thinking about the den and the fir tree and the girl. It was too hard to keep it all a secret today.
“There’s a girl living next door, in that big garden…” she started to tell Mom.
“Hmmm.” Mom made a soft sighing sound.
Tilly looked up at her. She waited for Mom to say something about the girl. Mom sighed again and turned over slightly. Her eyes were closed.
“Are you asleep?” Tilly asked eventually.
Mom didn’t say anything. Tilly watched the way her body went up and down, steadily, as she breathed deeply. Yes, Mom was fast asleep.
Never mind. They had had a perfect day together. Tilly’s best stocking present was the tiny dollhouse to go in her dollhouse, the one she had seen and loved in the shop back in November. And her favorite proper present from Mom and Dad was a wooden box with real pastels and watercolor paints and brushes, and a real artist’s notebook with thick cream paper. That, and a new dress and leggings. She had put them on right away. Dad had cooked a Christmas lunch, and Tilly had eaten most of what was on her plate. In a minute, they would watch a movie together. Tilly wished this day would go on and on forever.
“Open the door, please, Tilly,” Dad called out.
Tilly went over to let him in. He was carrying a tray with tea and cake and a bowl of clementines. He set the tray down on the coffee table and went to put another log on the fire.
“Time for your movie,” Dad said. “Switch on the TV.”
“What about Mom?” Tilly said.
“What about me?” Mom said.
“I thought you were asleep!”
“Only a little nap,” Mom said. “I want to see the movie with you. I used to love this one. I first saw it when I was your age. With my sisters.”
“Would you like a sister?” Dad asked Tilly. “Or a brother?”
“I don’t know,” Tilly said. “I’ve never had one.”
Mom laughed. “Not long now, though. February. Less than two months, Tilly!”
The music was starting for the film. The title came up: The Railway Children. Tilly settled down to watch, leaning back against the sofa close to Mom. Dad poured the tea.
“Turn off the light,” Mom said. “Let’s watch it by the light from the candles and the fire and the lights on the tree.”
Outside it was dark. Inside, it was warm and safe and everything was going to be all right.
Chapter 14
Tilly woke with a start. It was pitch dark, the middle of the night. She lay still, listening out for whatever it was that had woken her. With a horrible rush she remembered tomorrow was Monday, the first day back at school after the holidays.
A thin strip of light shone under the bedroom door; someone must have switched on the hallway light. She heard footsteps running downstairs, and not long after, the sound of a car and the slam of a car door, and the click of the front door being opened and then closed again. Low voices: Dad and another voice she didn’t recognize.
Tilly’s chest ached. Something bad had happened to Mom. She knew it, deep inside. Dad had called the doctor…
She listened more. Dad and the doctor came up the stairs, went along the hallway. A door clicked shut again and she couldn’t hear anything for a long time. Tilly’s head was hot. Her hands made fists under the covers. She wished Little Fox was there to hold on to. She knew what Little Fox would say: she had to lie very still and very quiet. She shouldn’t open the door. She must concentrate on keeping Mom safe by thinking about her. If she concentrated really hard, Mom would be all right.
Tilly imagined Mom surrounded with blue, healing light. The blue light was like a halo around Mom, keeping her safe and making her better. She must keep the blue light steady in her mind, with no gaps.
What was that?
A cry, a bit like the fox, only it was Mom crying out, as if she was hurt.
Tears pushed out from under Tilly’s eyelids and she couldn’t stop them. Hot, strong tears that made her eyes sting.
There were more footsteps: someone padding out to the bathroom and back. Tilly’s ears hurt with so much listening, straining. Running water, more footsteps, doors opening and closing, hushed voices.
Tilly held on to the edge of the blanket; she was cold, so cold, right to her toes. She pulled the blanket up higher, right up to her ears, and then over them, so she couldn’t hear anything more.
And then she must have fallen asleep, and so she’d stopped thinking about Mom in the blue light and…
Tilly woke up again, and this time it was daylight.
Dad was standing in the doorway, running his hand through his dark hair, and smiling. “Up you go, Tilly. We’ve all overslept this morning!”
The events in the night came back to Tilly in a sudden, anxious rush.
“Mom?” she whispered. “Is she—what happened?” But even as she spoke the words she was wondering, had she been dreaming again? Because everything
seemed to be all right now that Dad was there, smiling as if everything was normal.
Dad came over and drew the curtains back. Outside, a thick, white mist swirled around the house. “Such a heavy frost!” Dad said. “We should put some food out for the birds. Everything’s frozen hard.”
Dad sat down on the end of Tilly’s bed. “We had a bit of a busy night, Tilly. Mom wasn’t well, and the doctor came, but Mom’s going to be fine. You shouldn’t worry.”
Tilly wanted to pull the covers over her head again.
But Dad was pushing them back, stroking her hair. “I’m going to take her in to the hospital later today. Then the doctors will be right on hand to help if we need them, and that will help Mom relax.” He kept smoothing her hair. “So, Granny is going to come and stay for a few days to look after you. She can take you to school and cook your tea and things like that.”
“I don’t want to go to school,” Tilly whispered. “I want to stay here.”
The phone started ringing downstairs.
Dad stood up. “Please don’t make this any harder, Tilly. Just get dressed and ready for school. That’s my girl.” He was already out the door and running to pick up the phone.
Tilly didn’t put on her school clothes. She slipped on her dressing gown instead and padded down the landing to see Mom. She knelt on the rug by the bed and rested her head on the covers.
Mom reached out a pale hand and stroked Tilly’s head. “Hello, lambkin,” she said.
Tilly swallowed hard. “I feel sick,” she whispered. “And my throat hurts.”
“Poor you,” Mom said. “You’d better get back to bed. And get an old bowl from the cupboard under the sink, in case you actually are sick. You look feverish.”
Tilly stayed there a bit longer. She did feel sick, really she did. And cold and then hot.
Dad came in with a cup of tea for Mom. “That was the doctor on the phone, again,” he told her. “She wants me to take you up to the hospital this afternoon.”
Mom nodded. “Poor Tilly’s not feeling well, either,” she said. “I think she should stay home today.”
Dad sighed.
“Can I get into your bed, with you?” Tilly asked Mom.
“Just for a very short time,” Mom said.
It was warm, snuggled next to Mom in the big bed. Tilly wished she could stay there all day, close up and safe. But Mom had to lie on her side, and after a while, she said she was too hot with Tilly pressed up so close, so Tilly got out again and wandered back to her own room.
Dad brought up a bowl and put it by the bed. “Rest there,” he said. “I’m going to do some work in the study, but you can call me if you need me. I’ll leave the door open.”
Now that she knew she didn’t have to go to school, Tilly didn’t feel quite so sick. She got up and pulled on her jeans, her thick wool sweater, and pink socks. She stood at the window; the mist was lifting and a pale sun was shining onto the icy garden, turning the frost into a million trillion sparkly jewels along every leaf and branch and blade of grass.
The house seemed different in the daytime on a school day. It was very quiet and still. But through the window she saw the tree full of tiny birds, hopping from branch to branch. Tilly padded downstairs to the kitchen and took a big chunk of bread from the bread box. She opened the fridge and found a lump of cheese and some leftover potatoes in a bowl. She put on her coat and boots and went out into the garden, closing the door very quietly behind her.
A flock of brown birds flew up from the grass into the tree and watched while she shredded up the bread and cheese and scattered it on the ground. One brave bird flew back down and started to peck at the crumbs, and soon the others did the same. They were all so hungry. The longer she stayed, the braver they got. The usual robin flew over from the hedge and sat on the arm of the bench, right up close, watching her with its beady eye. She held out a piece of cheese and the robin hopped closer, not quite taking it from her hand at first. It took three tries, Tilly sitting as still as she could, and then at last it hopped up and took the cheese crumb out of her cupped hand. Its beak tickled and she giggled, and the robin flew up into the tree.
The fox must be hungry too. Tilly ran over the grass, through the gate into the other garden.
She saw him right away, sitting up with his scrawny tail wrapped over his paws. It was as if he had been waiting for her, had known she would come. Almost as if he were a tame fox. His ears pricked up, and he watched her intently but he didn’t run off. Tilly crept toward him, holding out a piece of cold potato. His nose twitched. He stood up, wary, and she threw the food onto the frosty grass. He darted forward, picked it up in his mouth, and ran back toward the brambles. He gulped it down and then looked back at Tilly. She held out another chunk. But he was too scared of her still. He edged forward and then stopped, nose twitching, his eyes fixed on her. So she threw him the potato and the cheese, and he dashed forward and gobbled them down, and still he wanted more.
“Wait there for me!” Tilly said. She ran back to the kitchen, to find more food he might like. Meat would be good, but there wasn’t any in the fridge. A raw egg? Vegetables?
“Tilly! Are you feeling better?” Dad came into the kitchen and filled the kettle from the tap. “Should I make you some breakfast? Scrambled eggs and buttered toast?”
“Yes, please,” Tilly said, thinking of the hungry fox.
While Dad made her eggs and toast he talked about Granny. “Soon as she’s here I can drive Mom up to the hospital. I’ll come home once Mom’s settled in.”
“How long does she have to be there?” Tilly asked. “Why can’t she stay here? I can look after her if you let me stay at home too.”
“Hey, Tilly! It’s safest for Mom there, like I explained before. Yes? And it will just be a week or so probably. Granny’s looking forward to seeing you. You can visit Mom every day. The time will whizz by.” Dad spooned the eggs onto brown toast and put the plate on the table. “There you go.”
Tilly took the butter down from the shelf. But she wasn’t hungry. Not one bit. She waited while Dad made his tea and took it back to his study, and then she took the plate outside with her, for the fox.
Tilly heard Granny’s car. She ran to open the front door ready for her.
“Tilly!” Granny gave her a big hug.
Granny smelled delicious: lemony and herby, like a summer garden. Held close up to her soft sweater, Tilly felt safe for a moment. But it was hard to be happy for long. Already Dad was getting the car ready to take Mom away, making it comfortable for her with a blanket and cushions. He put Mom’s bag in the trunk, and it looked too big and full of stuff, Tilly thought, as if Mom was going away for a long time and not just a few days.
“See you very soon,” Mom said brightly, though her face was pale and blotchy. “Don’t worry, Tilly.”
Tilly closed her eyes tight while the car went down the road. She imagined the blue light around Mom, like a soft blanket, tucking her in and making her better.
Tilly showed Granny around the house. This was the first time she’d visited them since they’d moved in the autumn. Granny got the vacuum out from the closet under the stairs, and then the broom and dustpan for the kitchen, and more cloths and cleaning things for the bathroom. “We’ll give each room a good going over,” she said.
Tilly helped. Granny sang and talked and Tilly felt much better. When they got to Dad’s study, Granny opened the door and made a funny humming noise, and then she shut it again. “We’ll leave that one be,” she said.
“Well! It’s certainly roomy, your new house!” Granny said when finally they sat down for some tea. “All those high ceilings: no wonder it’s cold. It needs a thorough airing: sunshine and fresh air. If it’s sunny tomorrow morning, that’s what we’ll do: open all the windows and give it a freshen-up!”
Granny had brought a cak
e: lime with coconut icing. Tilly licked the fine shreds of lime peel from the top. They made her tongue fizz.
“Now eat some actual cake!” Granny said. “You’re much too thin and pale, Tilly.”
Tilly ate as much as she could, very slowly. She told Granny about the hungry birds.
“You can show me the garden tomorrow,” Granny said. “When it’s light.”
The day had gone so fast. Much faster than a normal school day. Tilly and Granny went around the house together, closing the curtains. Granny turned the radiators on high. She switched on all the lights. “I know it’s a bit extravagant,” she said, “and not good for the planet, but just tonight, we need to get rid of all those shadows.” In the living room, she made a fire with logs, and then she lit candles and lined them up along the shelf. It looked like Christmas all over again.
Granny cooked macaroni and cheese for supper. Tilly was hungry for the first time in weeks. At bedtime, Granny ran the bath for Tilly, and afterward, she sat on Tilly’s bed and read her a story. Tilly snuggled under the blanket to listen. Granny’s voice made her feel sleepy.
“Will Dad be home soon?” Tilly asked.
“Very soon,” Granny said. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Tilly darling. Now it’s time for sleep. Where’s that old cuddly fox you used to like?”
“He’s disappeared,” Tilly said. “I can’t find him anywhere.”
“Hmmm. Well, you will have to put up with me instead!” Granny laughed, and leaned forward to cuddle Tilly.
Tilly was sooo sleepy. She closed her eyes.
“What you need is a cat,” Granny said. “Or perhaps a dog.”
“I’d like a fox,” Tilly said, half asleep.
“You can’t keep a fox as a pet,” Granny said. “A fox is a wild animal.”
“I’ve got one already…” Tilly whispered, already dreaming.