Between Two Worlds

By Mairi Craw

Between Two Worlds is the compelling and beautifully-crafted sequel to Beyond the Hedge, which showcased magical realism at its finest and introduced readers to a fantastical land like no other with deliciously eccentric characters who live in our hearts forever. Set in the seaside town of Irvine, Mairi Craws first fantasy novel chronicled the extraordinary adventures of 11-year old Sandy Henderson and her cat, Leo, when they chanced upon the parallel Scottish fairy world of Sylvania, a magical place where anything can happen and it invariably does.

In Between Two Worlds, the Tartan Fairy Folk and their beloved monarch, Queen Celestina, once more find themselves plunged into chaos and despair as the dark shadows of relentless evil, twisted ambition and vile intent threaten their carefree, happy land. When Pongo, the ebulliently cheeky fairy dog, arrives unannounced in Scotland, Sandy embarks on a series of outrageous shenanigans which bring the magic and enchantments of Sylvania into her home and along the sombre, menacing corridors of her school, an ancient Victorian mansion with secrets of its own.

What starts out as a merry romp quickly turns into the ultimate battle between good and evil, with a scourge of a villain whose malevolence knows no bounds. The chain of events unleashed threatens to destroy Sylvania and have hideous repercussions in Scotland too.
Sandy joins forces with an outrageous collection of characters to protect her beloved homeland while the Tartan Fairy Folk go up against the darkest iniquity their world has ever seen. Will Queen Celestina and her subjects survive the ultimate onslaught on all they love and cherish? And will Sandy be able to make the huge sacrifices demanded of her for the greater good of those she loves?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 4, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477227626

Mairi Craw

Scottish author Mairi Craw graduated with an MA in English Literature and History of Fine Art from Glasgow University. She worked for BBC World Service in London before starting her own publicity and design business which she ran from her home in Dorset for several years. Mairi began her writing career on a whim and quickly discovered she had a unique way with words, a passion for story-telling and a limitless imagination. She has never studied creative writing and plans nothing in advance. The novels unfold as she writes, and characters introduce themselves along the way. This allows Mairi an enormous amount of freedom and gives her writing a freshness and immediacy that is often hard to find in an overcrowded literary world. As far as she is concerned, there are no rules and there are endless avenues to be explored. Between Two Worlds, the sequel to her first novel, Beyond the Hedge, is the second reality-based fantasy inspired by her childhood in Scotland, and continues the adventures of Sandy Henderson and her wildly eccentric fairy friends. Mairi moved to the Pyrénées-Orientales in southern France with her family and a lively bunch of animals in 2007 and Between Two Worlds was written in this magical, inspirational part of the world. The cover image is Mairi’s own work and she has already embarked on a third novel in the series.

Book preview

© 2012 by Mairi Craw. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/01/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-2759-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-2761-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-2762-6 (e)

This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Author’s note

Mairi is Scottish Gaelic for Mary and sounds exactly like the word ‘marry’. Sandy’s Mum’s name, Tina, has the unusual pronunciation, ‘Tyna’. Maligna sounds like ‘malignant’ rather than ‘malign’, and wazwatt is pronounced ‘wozwot’. As for the town of Irvine, that’s as if there is no ‘e’ on the end and Corvine is exactly as it looks.

FOR KIRSTINE

No use to stop and stare

And if you don’t know where you’re going

Any road will take you there

© George Harrison, whose inspirational music has been a constant source of encouragement

Chapter 1

"When you said Ralph was no dim-wit, Pongo, I didn’t think you were planning on saying it to his face. To be honest, I thought you were a teensy bit reticent about me passing on your highly considered opinion, never mind you rushing through the arch to tell him yourself."

The dog gave his customary self-conscious smirk. That’s not why I’m here, Jamie, and you know it. I temporarily lost the plot. It was unbearable watching you all go home again.

The Siamese cat grew serious. I was an emotional wreck myself and I’m really glad you’re here, particularly as Leo’s so thick with Gilbert. Just look at the pair of them cosied up in front of the Aga, although I have to admit it’s not unreasonable after all they’ve been through together.

I still can’t get over how small he is now, can you?

It’s weird and no mistake. Still, the erstwhile Giant Rat seems to have lost none of his ebullience.

And Gilbert’s already part of the family. Are the Hendersons always so accommodating? They’ve taken my unscheduled arrival here very calmly.

They’re not easily fazed. Animals from another dimension are no big deal to them. I must say, you don’t look very comfortable sharing that basket with Trixie.

You’ve noticed, said Pongo with an amused snort.

She’s a bit of a lump when she’s asleep and tends to expand to fill all the available space, and the unavailable space too, judging by the state you’re in. You appear to make a very comfortable fleece lining.

It’s her bed after all, so I can hardly complain. I wish I’d brought my own basket but I wasn’t thinking straight.

Clearly not. You’d be snuggled up in your bed by the stove in ‘Corbie Cottage’ if you hadn’t been so rash. On that subject, Pongo, you will have to go home soon.

I know, he said flatly, but Ralph said I could stay until arrangements are made for sending me back without causing too many ripples.

He could hardly say anything else under the circumstances.

Pongo knew he was being teased but didn’t mind one bit. I do feel a wee bit guilty, particularly when it comes to Estella. What if she thinks I don’t love her anymore?

I’m sure she’ll understand. She’s obviously very bright and Pogo knows how impulsive you are. She’ll set things straight with her.

I do hope so. Some welcome home present, me doing a runner.

It’s done now so there’s no point giving yourself grief over it.

You’re right there, said Pongo, wriggling out from under the sleeping boxer. The old dog skipped a snore and then it was business as usual. I thought you’d be upstairs on Sandy’s bed tonight.

She’s bunked up with the Drysdale kids. It’s always the same when they come for the weekend. They stay awake half the night giggling and chattering and I don’t get a wink of sleep. I can’t abide having bags under my eyes; they spoil my otherwise perfect features. In any case, I thought you’d enjoy the company on your first night in Irvine, particularly as the others are out for the count.

It can’t have been easy for Gilbert in Sylvania. I don’t imagine he’s had a decent kip in years. I expect changing your size so dramatically takes it out of you, too.

In more ways than one, but I’ll always think of him as the Giant Rat, no matter what size he is.

Me too, Jamie.

Leo’s voice was slurred with sleep. Are you two going to put a sock in it soon? You’re starting to remind me of Puddock and Natterjack.

Pongo yawned extravagantly. What’s he babbling on about?

They’re two Sylvanian toads who never shut up, Gilbert murmured as he turned over and cuddled up against Leo’s back.

Charming, said Pongo, scratching at the worn kitchen rug until it resembled a cross between a badly-made omelette and a wrinkled stocking.

Perfect, he said, sighing happily. Last one asleep’s a . . .

But he was in the land of Nod as soon as he hit the floor.

Captain Henderson delivered Peg Leg and Lorimer back to the harbour, listening to snatches of their Sylvanian adventures as he drove them to the lobster’s home under the jetty by the Pilot Station. The harbourmaster was careful not to be seen as he crouched down and manoeuvred the silver bucket through the crossbeams.

That’s it, I can handle her from here on in. I’ll have to stash the good ship ‘Celestina’ well away from prying eyes. I wouldn’t want anyone to make off with her. We’ve come a long way together.

So the bucket’s a sea-going vessel now, is it Thermidor? Talk about delusions of grandeur. You’ll be calling yourself Captain Crustacean any minute.

What a splendid notion, chortled the lobster.

I’ll have to leave you to it, boys.

Two very different faces turned to look up at Ralph through the tangle of beams.

Lorimer adopted a suitably formal tone. On behalf of myself, and my one-legged, feathered friend, I’d like to thank you for everything you’ve done for us.

"Not everything, please, groaned Peg. The Captain’s in a hurry."

Ralph laughed. Think nothing of it. It’s me who should be thanking you for playing such pivotal roles in the rescue of Leo and subsequent safe return of my daughter. I’ll catch up with you both tomorrow. There’s a bit of a bash planned for Sandy’s birthday and the house is likely to be swarming with over-excited young ladies. The school motto, ‘Be Still and Know’, hasn’t rubbed off on them, if past experience is anything to go by. I’ll see if I can slip away and bring you both a party bag. Perhaps I could take Trixie and Pongo for a walk on the beach.

His nibs’ll not be very happy about that. There’s nothing he enjoys more than a good hoolie. Pongo’s a party animal like myself. Are you sure Peg and I can’t come to the celebration? I could pretend I was mechanical.

The seagull flew up to join Ralph. Please don’t make me. I couldn’t stand it.

There’s no fear of that, Peg, he said with a conspiratorial smile. And I’ve already explained why it’s best if you’re not there, Lorimer. Sadly, Sandy’s friends are not ready for the likes of you. They’d ask too many questions and you’d be bound to give the game away.

I’ll come as nature intended, said the lobster hopefully.

Even without the bathing suit and goggles, you’re far too clever to be a convincing mechanical crustacean.

Ralph’s right, Thermidor, said the gull, hopping along beside the harbourmaster.

I reckon that’s a compliment, so I’ll receive it graciously. Lorimer waved his giant claw in a farewell gesture. Chuck a couple of salmon sandwiches in the party bags and a prawn cocktail if there’s one going.

Peg called after Ralph as he headed for the car. He doesn’t want much, does he?

Lorimer wrenched the bucket out of sight and began humming the Sylvanian national anthem. Easily pleased, that’s me.

Sandy’s birthday party was in full swing and the house echoed with excited laughter. Pongo was the centre of attention as none of the guests had met him before. He was having a fine time belting from room to room with a trail of noisy youngsters on his tail.

Ralph passed him off as his cousin’s dog who was staying with them for a while. The girls were quite happy to accept his explanation and most of them had stopped listening before he reached the end of the first sentence.

Gilbert’s presence was a bit more tricky, particularly as no-one had thought to put him in his cage before the party kicked off. It had once been home to a white mouse belonging to his elder daughter, Kirstine, and Ralph had found the device at the back of the boxroom. The cage was only there for appearance’s sake but Gilbert was supposed to be in it when visitors came to the house.

Maureen and Liz Drysdale were delighted with the Hendersons’ new pet and the fact he was extremely tame made them like him all the more. When he scampered along the back of the sofa on his hind legs or swung from the tassels on the lampshades they felt he was putting on a show specially for them which of course he was.

Gilbert was asleep on top of Leo when a splinter group of guests suddenly burst into the kitchen. The animated chatter gradually subsided as they became aware of the snoozing rodent. The response was mainly that of pure fascination but there’s always one in a crowd, isn’t there? You know the sort, the type who just has to scream the place down.

The rat woke with a start and made a run for it. He scrambled across the hearth rug, up the leg of a chair and onto the broad shelf by the window where his new abode awaited him. The door was hanging open so he dived straight in and pulled it shut with his front paws.

There were gasps of astonishment and Sandy’s mum rushed over to slide the bolt across before Gilbert had time to do it himself. Tina turned to face her daughter’s astonished friends, directing her words at the child who had screamed. He’s frightened of you, dear.

And no wonder, when you make such an awful racket, Sandy added angrily. Haven’t you seen a pet rat before?

Mary turned her soulful eyes heavenwards. She was trying hard not to cry, that would only lead to relentless teasing, but she was willing to risk being ridiculed about one thing. I’ve not seen a pet rat in a neckerchief before! she replied triumphantly.

Sandy leapt in front of the cage. Don’t be daft, she said defensively.

Mary was enjoying the unaccustomed attention. See for yourselves, she added smugly as a trio of girls barged past Sandy to have a closer look.

What neckerchief? said the one at the front. Honestly, Mary, how much birthday cake have you had? That third slice must have scrambled your brains.

I’ve only had two slices, she mumbled as her face turned the colour of an overripe tomato.

Gilbert was standing on his back legs with his paws clasped behind him. He was the epitome of innocence.

Ooh, isn’t he cute?

Can the wee darling do any other tricks?

Juggling clubs on a monocycle would be good!

The rodent gave a deep bow and received a round of applause. Tina shot him a warning look but he was already basking in the warm glow of the spotlight and wasn’t paying her the slightest attention.

Look, he’s smiling at us. What’s his name?

Gilbert, said Sandy at the precise second he obligingly supplied his own name.

Mary squinted through her glasses and advanced towards the cage, eyes narrowed with suspicion just as Sandy’s sister, Kirstine, popped her head round the kitchen door.

It’s time for the magic show, she announced cheerfully, and if that doesn’t grab you there’s always Madame Mona, the fortune teller.

The other party guests turned their attention to matters more exciting but Mary wasn’t interested in magicians or clairvoyants. She ducked round Sandy and peered through the bars of the cage.

I knew it! she screamed exultantly. He’s hiding the scarf behind his back.

Tina stepped forward and took Mary by the arm, propelling her swiftly towards the door. Hurry along, dear. You don’t want to miss out on anything.

But, Mrs Henderson, he really did have a neckerchief on.

Whatever you say. Why don’t you have one of these delicious strawberry tarts? They’re very good.

I’ve already had two.

Well, perhaps not. You wouldn’t want to make yourself sick now, would you?

Mary seemed to do everything in twos and Tina was half expecting her to say she’d been sick twice already.

You’re not feeling left out, are you, Vince? said the sporran.

Of course not, Florin. It’s just a bit of a shock finding myself hanging in a wardrobe again when I’m used to being in the thick of the action.

How d’ye think I feel lyin’ here on this shelf? The only good thing to be said about ma predicament is that for once I’m higher than you, but I’d give anything tae swing ma tassels tae some good old Scottish jigs and reels.

We could hardly expect Sandy to wear us at her birthday party, said the kilt. It’s all frocks and frills. I did think she might put on her Fabulous Fairymass creation. No-one could eclipse that.

She wanted to but Tina said she ought tae keep it for best. That’s parents for you. If you can’t wear the ultimate dress at your own birthday party, when can ye wear it?

I suppose it might have raised a few eyebrows. It’s not the sort of thing you’re likely to find around here, is it?

And how would you know? You’ve only seen the inside of this wardrobe so far.

There are some things one just knows, Florin. Queen Celestina’s designs won’t turn up in any of the high street shops, mark my words.

I suppose you’re right, said the sporran grudgingly.

Did you hear that?

Hear what, exactly? The house is jumpin’. Can ye be more specific, Vince?

I’m not sure. Mice squeaking, maybe?

All ah can hear is weans shoutin’ their heids aff.

You’ve become very Scottish since you arrived in Irvine.

Whit d’ye expect? I’ve come hame.

Maybe so, Florin, but it feels more than a little contrived, if you ask me. The kilt adjusted its position on the hanger. "There it is again. Surely you heard that?"

The sporran stopped overplaying the accent.

I certainly did. It came from the room behind us and, if it’s mice, they’re in an awful lather about something, but what can we do about it? We’re stuck in this cupboard.

What a calamity, Jock. Her Majesty’s not a happy bunny and little wonder.

Crawford, for goodness sake, it’s not that big a deal. Pongo’s just having a wee holiday. We’ll send him home soon enough. It’s simply a matter of working out how to do it sensibly.

I’ll give you ‘sensibly’, Jock Craw, retorted the dapper little crow.

You sound just like the Royal Raven. Exactly how much time are you spending with her these days?

Indigoletta and I play cards occasionally and attend dance classes together. We enjoy each other’s company, that’s all.

So the rumours of a romance are true! But do spare me the details, cousin, I’ve led a very sheltered life.

Crawford exploded with pent-up emotion, looking uncannily like the great bird herself.

Good grief, Jock, how can you joke at a time like this? Pongo doesn’t belong in Scotland, but that’s as nothing compared to Estella.

Jock Craw advanced towards his cousin and all signs of humour had vanished. His tone was slow and measured. What are you talking about?

Bringing Estella home as soon as possible. The little crow scanned Jock’s face anxiously. You may find the situation amusing but it could have very serious repercussions. Frankly, I’m surprised at you. Can’t you see how potentially dangerous this is?

Jock stared at the ground in front of him, preparing himself for what he had to say. He felt numb with shock but he met Crawford’s penetrating gaze.

Give me some credit, Crawf, I’d never joke about something like that. There’s no easy way of telling you this, Estella isn’t in Irvine. Pongo came through on his own.

Sandy woke with a start in the early hours. She could hear gentle breathing from the bed occupied by Maureen and Liz.

A shaft of moonlight shone through a chink in the curtains, illuminating a patch of carpet beside her bed where a large cat lay sleeping. Sandy sat up and rubbed her eyes. The cat disappeared, a remnant of her dreams perhaps. She turned to look at the wardrobe door which was hanging open. The hair on the back of her neck began to lift. The inside of the wardrobe was shrouded in darkness, and there was the unmistakeable sound of furtive whispering.

Vince, Florin, please tell me that’s you.

None other, hissed the sporran.

What’s up? she said throwing back the covers. Her feet sank into soft, silky fur but when she looked down there was the old, familiar bedside rug.

Sandy was still half asleep so didn’t give the matter any more thought.

Keep it down, boys. I’m on my way. She darted across the room and thrust her head into the wardrobe.

What’s the problem?

I’m glad ye asked. Personally, ah’m fed up floppin’ around on this shelf and, as for Vince, he needs tae exercise his pleats, pronto. He’s gettin’ obstreperous, cooped up as he is.

Throttle that yabbery wee purse before I burst my buckles.

Is this why you’ve woken me? Honestly, you know the rules here in Scotland. No talking, unless it’s family only or a dire emergency, and bickering, for the sake of it, is definitely out. If that’s what this is about I’m going back to my bed.

No it’s not, replied the kilt urgently. We keep hearing a wee voice calling for help. It’s coming from the room behind us.

Sandy froze. "That can’t be. The boxroom’s next door and no-one spends time in there if they can help it."

Maybe so, but that’s where the voice is coming from and it doesn’t half sound familiar.

Shh, there it is again, hissed the sporran.

Sandy was by now peppered with goosepimples and her teeth had started to chatter. The room was cold but that wasn’t the reason. A knot of fear was forming in her stomach and she hugged herself to quell the shivering.

The words were faint but distinct.

Help me, please, I want to go home.

Someone’s definitely shut in there, Sandy.

That’s impossible, Vince. The safe’s in the boxroom and the door’s always kept locked; the key’s in a space behind the lintel. I can’t reach it without standing on a chair and no-one outside the family knows we keep it there.

You’d better check in case one of your pals got locked in. Maybe some scalliwag did it for a laugh and forgot tae let her out again.

My friends went home hours ago and none of them would do anything so stupid. I’ll go and investigate but I’m taking Pongo and Jamie with me. That room’s really creepy and I’m not setting foot in there alone at dead of night. I’ll nip downstairs to wake them up.

We’ll come with you, said Florin. Quick, put us on over your nightie.

I’ll look awfully silly if someone finds me like that.

You can always pretend you’re sleepwalking.

That’s not a bad idea, she replied with a giggle. Folk do really daft things when they’re asleep. And when they’re awake and should know better, she thought, putting on her struntie wool slippers. She snatched Vince from his hanger and made a grab for Florin.

A few minutes later Sandy was back on the upper landing with Jamie and Pongo. Everyone stood nervously waiting for her to open the door. She slotted the key into the lock and turned it anti-clockwise.

Gilbert had woken Leo when he overheard what she was planning and the pair were concealed in the shadows by the banisters. We’ll provide cover if they need it, he said under his breath.

If Sandy had wanted our help, she’d have asked for it.

She probably didn’t like to disturb us. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, my wee chum.

‘Big chum’, you mean.

Indeedy! Gilbert turned his neckerchief cowboy-style and strapped on an imaginary gunbelt. Ooh-er, they’ve gone inside. Quick, Leo, follow me. The rat crossed the landing, belly to the ground, and peeked round the door. I don’t like that room one bit, it smells wrong.

I know exactly what you mean, said the Abyssinian, backing away.

Pongo poked his head out of the boxroom. You’d better come in before you wake the whole house. If that’s your idea of silent sleuthing, you’ve a long way to go before you’re Holmes and Watson on eight legs.

Very droll, Pongo, but if it’s all right with you we’d rather stay put.

The dog’s ears shot up. Crikey! That sounded just like Estella. He darted back into the boxroom and Gilbert and Leo, for want of a better idea, tumbled in after him.

Sandy closed the door carefully to prevent it from creaking on rusty hinges. There was no handle, just the keyhole and a sturdy bolt. I hate to do this, but we need time to think. I’m shutting us in for now but don’t panic, Florin’s looking after the key so no-one can lock the door from outside.

That’s too ghastly to contemplate, said Jamie with a shudder. This room gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Sandy sat down on her Dad’s old Merchant Navy trunk in front of the safe. The others clustered round her and Pongo placed his head on her lap, his hazel eyes fixed on her troubled face. She gathered everyone to her and Gilbert clambered onto her shoulder to avoid the crush.

We’re in this together, she said, trying to keep her voice steady. But I haven’t a clue what to do next. Are you certain it’s Estella, Pongo?

Yes, he replied miserably. But she’s not actually in here, is she?

Jamie jumped onto a suitcase covered in tattered stickers advertising exotic destinations far from Scotland. He inclined his head towards the panel under the sloping roof. It bore traces of faded wallpaper covered with rocking-horses and toy soldiers. It was hard to imagine the room ever being used as a nursery or a playroom; there was no natural light and poor ventilation. Her voice is coming from behind this panel but wherever she is it sounds a very long way from here. Try calling her, Pongo, she’ll recognise you.

The dog pushed himself between a hatbox and a stack of tatty photo albums.

Estella, can you hear me?

The silence was oppressive and grew like a suffocating fungus, moving along the dusty shelves and over the stacked piles of magazines and comics until it filled every corner of the room.

Jamie shook his head sadly. Try calling her again, though I’m fairly certain she can’t hear us. It’s as if she’s in some sort of limbo.

What do you mean?

I’m not really sure. The Siamese frowned under his fur. Call it feline intuition.

Gilbert popped his head out from under Sandy’s hair. You don’t suppose Estella tried to follow you, Pongo?

I do remember her calling my name over and over, now that you mention it, but I wasn’t taking any notice. You know what us dogs are like, very single-minded.

Disobedient, you mean, said Jamie loftily.

A cat would never behave like that.

But that’s exactly what you did, Leo, when you ignored me and walked through the arch. If you hadn’t been so obstinate, we wouldn’t be in this fix. It’s amazing what can happen when one little cat doesn’t do as he’s told.

Leo stared at the floor in embarrassment. You’re right, Sandy. That was a daft thing to say. I’ve always believed cats to be smarter than dogs. Perhaps we’re not, after all.

I wouldn’t go that far, Jamie said with a superior sniff.

I for one am delighted you were disobedient, Gilbert said heartily. We’ve had a splendid adventure and made new friends to boot. That’s life-enhancing to say the very least and if you hadn’t come to Sylvania when you did I’d still be marooned there.

I can’t argue with that, said Sandy with the ghost of a smile. But let’s not lose sight of the problem at hand.

Lorimer was sorting through his belongings in the old tin bath and, having forced himself to throw out a puncture repair kit and a broken thermos flask, arranged everything else in reverse alphabetical order; umbrellas, socks and hats with cardigans, bicycle clips and beach wear underneath. The lobster’s most precious items were stashed right at the bottom, his reasoning being that anyone remotely interested in his stuff would have grown bored by the time they got to his woollies.

He filled a rotting crate with ‘Things That Might Come In Useful One Day’, with the sub-section, ‘I’ve Never Seen That In My Life Before’, then covered this sorry lot with a mouldy tarpaulin, secretly hoping the tide would carry them off. This was how Lorimer dealt with his hoarding streak, nothing confrontational, in fact a decidedly claws-off approach.

His cousin Kitt, who ran ‘Rock Around the Bay Recycling’ was more than happy to handle the detritus that washed in and out on the tides. He skilfully fashioned a kilt pin from a gaudy hair clip and a shiny bottle top which Lorimer simply had to have as soon as he clocked it. This eyeful would be right at home on his shocking pink and emerald kilt which his canny cousin was already making a pattern for.

Lorimer couldn’t decide what to do with his lavish new Sylvanian cozzies. They were far too precious to be stored with his everyday swimwear. He spent several minutes fretfully arranging and rearranging them, first by colour, then by sequins per square inch and, when he was practically boggle-eyed, in order of overall ‘zinginess’.

This latter category involved him trying on all the dazzling swimsuits in front of the shiny silver bucket. It wasn’t ideal as mirrors go but it gave a wide-angled view of the crustacean, which had Lorimer convinced he could see his back, front and both sides at the same time. What he saw was a vision of perfection, but there’s a finite amount of pleasure to be had from zipping in and out of swimwear, no matter how glamorous it is.

He unlocked the wooden chest his beloved Rita had given him before she returned to her home in the Gulf of Mexico and popped the bathing suits into the velvet-lined interior. The casket was tailor-made for the job and Lorimer pronounced himself tickled pink until he remembered the significance of that colour where lobsters were concerned.

Having run out of things to do he sat under the wharf twiddling his claws. He pinged the rubber strap on his goggles from time to time to break the monotony.

So you’re bored too. The seagull hopped onto the lid of the padlocked chest. It’s great to be back, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t help wondering how they’re getting on in Crawdonia. I really miss them all, don’t you?

Sandy squashed herself between the safe and the upended doll’s house. She smiled at the memory of the Christmas years before when she’d ripped the wrapping paper from the tantalising, bulky package she’d been circling for days to find a specially commissioned single-storey residence. She’d never met anyone who owned a custom-built doll’s bungalow, then or since.

Well, what do you think? Is it worth a look? Jamie eyed the small door in the wall with cautious suspicion. Don’t think for a moment I’m suggesting we go through it, maybe just open it a crack and take a quick peek.

Sounds reasonable, said Pongo. What does everyone else think?

The others exchanged uneasy looks.

Come on, guys, where’s your pioneering spirit?

Pongo’s right, said Jamie. We’ve faced far worse than this.

Vince and I are ready for action, Florin said eagerly. A kilt could go nuts hanging around in a wardrobe.

Speak for yourself. You’re far more likely to get cabin fever.

That’s settled then. Sandy hoped she sounded braver than she felt.

Jamie jumped onto her shoulders as she knelt down and turned the recessed brass handle. The half-sized door hadn’t been opened in years and was stuck fast. She gave one brisk shove with her full weight behind it and the door swung open with a sickening sound like grinding teeth. She overbalanced and fell forward into the loft space, catapulting Jamie into the darkness beyond.

Oh my, exclaimed Gilbert, pulling nervously at his neckerchief. That wasn’t meant to happen.

He swung down a dressing gown cord which was wrapped around a stack of dog-eared documents and landed by the open door.

I thought we were going to provide cover, wasn’t that what you said, Gilb?

’Twas my intention, Leo, but we find ourselves leading the cavalry yet again.

Don’t do anything reckless now, will you?

That’s a rib-tickler coming from the likes of you, Pongo, said Leo, deftly filling the sarcasm gap left by Jamie.

In one ill-considered but beautifully executed manoeuvre, Gilbert shouted chocks away and disappeared into the inky blackness after Sandy and Jamie.

Leo clapped his paws over his eyes in characteristic fashion.

When will that eedjit ever learn?

Chapter 2

So much for that, said Jamie, flicking the dust off his paws as he stepped back into the boxroom. I thought we might be onto something there but it was grime, cobwebs and little else.

Sandy scooped up the rat and ducked under the door. It’s disappointing but I don’t know what I was expecting to find.

Gilbert gave himself a thorough shake. Estella was too much to hope for, I suppose. So what now; any ideas, chaps and chapesses? Sandy had a mighty peculiar expression on her face which sent the rat scurrying into the folds of her flannel nightgown. What’s the problem? he squeaked, emerging from behind the sporran.

It’s dark!

Why so it is, twittered the rodent, sounding exactly like his great aunt Cecily. I’m so used to being able to see with or without lights, I hadn’t noticed. He giggled nervously. You can put the light back on now.

Silence.

Jamie was close to losing his temper which was a rare occurrence. Pongo, Leo, it’s not in the least funny. In fact, it’s distinctly unnerving.

Still nothing.

I’m going to have to find the switch, said Sandy. There’s something very wrong. I’m positive they’d never muck about at a time like this.

Vince brushed his pleats against the child’s legs to reassure her. They’re too small to reach the lightswitch anyway; maybe the bulb’s blown.

That’s not very likely, scoffed Florin. A joke’s a joke, so why don’t they answer us? That’s what I’d like tae know.

Sandy felt around in front of her to get her bearings. The safe should have been straight ahead but her leg came in contact with something cold, soft and squashy. What on earth’s that? she yelped.

It’s only a rolled-up quilt, said the Siamese. I’ll direct you towards the door so you don’t trip over anything.

Gilbert was stuck to Sandy’s neck like a furry plaster. He felt her body stiffen. What’s wrong now?

I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a quilt in the boxroom.

She followed Jamie’s directions until she stood with her hand poised over the Bakelite switch.

We’ll all feel better with the light on, said the kilt encouragingly. Darkness can be very disorientating.

The sporran gave a leathery grimace. For once, I couldnae agree more.

The room was flooded with light from the bare bulb in the ceiling and Jamie let out a prolonged, guttural yowl. A ridge of fur rose between his powerful shoulders and travelled down his spine to the tip of his tail.

Gilbert rubbed his eyes and blinked. For a moment there I thought we were in the wrong boxroom.

Sandy picked up the Siamese and held him tight against her chest. It’s definitely the right room, I recognise the wallpaper, but this isn’t our junk; there’s not enough of it!

Vince shuddered as an icy draught ruffled his pleats. How can that be?

Perhaps we’ve slipped into another dimension, Florin said smugly.

Next you’ll be telling me we’ve travelled through time, said the kilt with a horrible sense of foreboding.

That does seem the likeliest explanation.

Sandy’s words caused the sporran to swell with pride. It nodded cockily. What did ah tell ye!

Jamie had regained his composure and no longer resembled an angry Axminster.

I’ll go along with that, he said, but what we need to establish is whether we’ve moved forwards or backwards in time?

The rat’s whiskers twitched furiously. When he spoke his voice was thin and papery. I don’t much care as long as we can go home again this very minute.

There I was sitting under a palm tree on the Costa del Solvania when Cough dropped out of the sky with the ghastly news that obliterated my appetite for the sublime seafood gumbo I was poised to devour. Indigoletta’s eyes glittered at the memory. Ye gods, Crawford, I was in need of rest and recuperation after recent events.

Indeed, ma’am, and I was so looking forward to joining you for the Bridge Tournament. I enjoy a spot of mental gymnastics in tropical climes.

I had your physical well-being in mind too, so I’d signed us up for a crash course in tap-dancing which will have to be put on hold for now. How’s Her Majesty taken this latest calamity?

She’s concerned, naturally, but this shouldn’t take long to unravel. I’m sure we’ll be dancing like Fred and Ginger in no time.

Indigoletta looked down her phenomenal beak at him with such ferocity that the little crow backed away from her.

Make no mistake, this is not a trivial situation we’re facing. I must see Queen Celestina at once and, if I were you, Crawford, I wouldn’t rush out and buy tap shoes just yet.

The Royal Raven swept past him, her feathers stiff with indignation.

But she’s not here, ma’am.

And why wasn’t I told?

Because you’ve just touched down. What was I supposed to do, intercept you mid-flight?

That would have shown a morsel of initiative.

The monocle fell from Crawford’s eye; he was stung by her words and his tone was decidedly wintry. Her Majesty insisted on telling Alfie and Pogo herself. It’s a kind gesture.

Where’s Will? she snapped, refusing to be drawn.

Crawford tapped his foot and not in anticipation of his impending dance classes.

I was hoping you weren’t going to ask me that. He’s with Queen Celestina and Sammy.

And why shouldn’t he be?

I . . . em . . . thought you might be miffed he wasn’t here to meet you.

Indigoletta narrowed her eyes. What a preposterous notion. How was Will supposed to know when I’d be landing?

Crawford shot her a sidelong look. So, I’m supposed to be a mind-reader but the Attendant to the Royal Raven is exempt. As a species, imps are far more psychically aware than crows.

The Royal Raven chuckled. Well said, Crawf. Consider me firmly put in my place. Now then, have someone see to my luggage while I freshen up.

Will’s cousin Malcolm jumped out from behind the heavy velvet drapes that