Frost
Page 6
“What were you doing out there?”
Mrs Morris sighed. “Taking my rubbish out. And don’t tell me it was a stupid thing to do in the snow, Cassie, because I know. Your dad’s already told me that and half the doctors in this hospital, I think.”
Cassie giggled. “Next time I’ll take it down for you, if you like. I wouldn’t mind. I do it for Mum.”
“Thank you, Cassie.” Mrs Morris’s eyes sharpened. “And anyway, it’s all very well you asking me what I was doing out in the snow. Now your mother’s gone to change Lucas and we’re alone – what were you out there for?”
“I heard you calling,” Cassie said glibly. Mum and Dad had believed it, after all.
Mrs Morris frowned. “But I don’t think I did call. I should have done, of course. But I was feeling so strange – sort of dizzy and sick. I didn’t shout, Cassie.”
“You must have done,” Cassie said, pleating the blanket on Mrs Morris’s bed between her fingers. “You’ve just forgotten.”
“No.” Mrs Morris looked at her thoughtfully and then leaned forward a little. “That isn’t the only thing, Cassie. When you went to fetch your dad, you left one of those foxes guarding me.”
“What…?” Cassie faltered. She hadn’t realized Mrs Morris had heard her.
“One of the young ones,” Mrs Morris went on, rather dreamily. “She had a white tip to her tail, like she’d dipped it in paint. She was very pretty, actually. I wasn’t scared of her. There were snowflakes on her ears…” Then her gaze sharpened again and she glared at Cassie. “I’m not imagining it, young lady.”
Cassie sighed. “No.”
“Was it the fox you heard calling, then? Not me?”
Cassie nodded. “She sat outside my window and wailed until I came down.”
“And to think I complained about you feeding them, back in the summer,” Mrs Morris murmured. “Thank goodness you did. Have you seen her again since?”
“I took her a bit of my breakfast this morning,” Cassie admitted. “It was only toast, but she liked it. It had Marmite on.”
Mrs Morris laughed. “Well, when I get back, I’ll give you another sausage roll. A whole packet, to say thank you.” Then she looked at Cassie curiously. “What is it? You look as though you’ve got a secret, like you’re bursting to tell someone.”
Cassie stared down at the blanket again. “Would you believe me, if I told you something very strange? Something I’m not even sure really happened, or if it was a dream? Except…”
“Tell me!” Mrs Morris smiled at her. “You don’t know how bored I am, lying here. Even if it was only a dream, I’d still like to hear.”
“Do you remember telling me about the Frost Fairs?” Cassie swallowed hard. She hadn’t told anyone and she wasn’t sure what Mrs Morris was going to say.
“Of course. I wasn’t sure you really believed me, though.”
“Not at first, but then I did, and … and now I know it’s true.” Cassie looked up at the old lady. “I went there. Frost took me – that’s the fox who called me to come and find you.”
Mrs Morris shifted a little to sit up more in bed. “What happened?” she asked, frowning curiously.
“Two nights ago, the night you fell. I heard Frost calling, and I went out and followed her. But the streets changed as we were walking and then I was someone else. A girl going to the Frost Fair with her family.”
Cassie shook her head. “I decided it must all have been a dream. But then I found this when I was coming here on the bus with Mum. It was in my coat pocket. So now I don’t know.” She held it out to Mrs Morris and they stared at it together – a little piece of thick paper, crisply printed in black.
Tilly sat at the end of the sofa, looking worriedly at her mum. She was trying to go back through her day at school, wondering if she’d done anything wrong without realizing it that would have made her teacher call home. She couldn’t think why else Mum would want to have “a talk” with her just when she’d got back from school.
“You know we’re going to Grandma Ellen’s house for Christmas?” her mum began slowly.
“Yes! Oh – can’t we go?” Tilly slumped a little. “There’s nothing wrong with Grandma, is there? Or Great-Gran?” she added, her eyes widening. Great-Gran was nearly ninety, even though she was one of the most energetic people Tilly had ever met. She and Tilly’s grandma shared a cottage together, and Great-Gran even did most of the gardening.
“Don’t panic! It’s all fine – we’re still going.” Mum patted her knee and then sighed. “It’s just that there’s so much happening at work, I’m not going to be able to take as much time off as I’d planned. I won’t be able to go until the day before Christmas Eve.”
Tilly made a face. They’d planned to be at Grandma’s for a few days before Christmas and she’d been really looking forward to it. There seemed to be more Christmassy things to do there. If they didn’t go till the twenty-third, Grandma would have already put up her Christmas tree and Tilly wouldn’t get to help decorate it. They only had space for a tiny little tree in their flat and you could hardly fit any decorations on it at all. Maybe Grandma would even put the icing on the Christmas cake without her too…
“That’s ages away,” she muttered.
Her mum sighed again. “I know. So, I spoke to Grandma earlier on and we were thinking – what if you went up on the train before me?”
“You mean go to Grandma’s on my own?” Tilly stared at her mum. She’d never even considered that. She’d thought that Mum would say she had to go to holiday club at school again. She’d been just about to moan that holiday club was boring and now Mum had sprung a total surprise on her instead.
“Not for the whole time,” her mum hurried to explain. “I’d be coming as soon as I can get off work. I know you love spending time with Grandma Ellen and Great-Gran.”
“I do – I mean, I do want to. It’s just that I’ve never been on a train on my own before.” Tilly nibbled her bottom lip. Her grandma lived a long way away, in a village close to the Welsh border. It was at least an hour’s journey by train. More like an hour and a half.
Her mum nodded. “I know – that’s the bit that worries me too, Tilly. I mean, I would put you on the train here and Grandma would meet you at the other end but it’s still a big thing to do on your own. No… You’re right, it’s not going to work. I’ll call Grandma later and tell her.” She smiled at Tilly. “Don’t worry! We’ll still get to stay with them for most of Christmas.”
Tilly leaned against her mum’s shoulder. Could she do it? She went to school on her own now but that was different, it was only a ten-minute walk. She’d been really nervous the first time she did it, though. Perhaps she was making too much fuss about the train? “Don’t call Grandma Ellen just yet,” she murmured. “I’ll … think about it.”
“OK. But honestly, Tilly, I don’t want you worrying about it.” Mum eyed her thoughtfully. “So, did anything interesting happen at school today?”
Tilly sighed heavily. “Guess what Mrs Cole’s done.” She sat up again, folding her arms and glaring at her mum.
“Um… Given you loads of homework?”
“Worse than that! She’s given us a project. To do in the Christmas holidays! It’s not fair.” Tilly slumped back against the sofa cushions. She’d thought maybe they’d get some spellings over the holidays, or a bit of maths. Not a great big project to do. Everyone in her class was complaining about it.
“What’s it on?” Mum asked. “Something interesting?”
“The Second World War.” Tilly peered over at her. “We have to choose a topic, like rationing or something. I suppose it’s sort of interesting.”
“Oh, it definitely is!” Mum brightened up, tapping her fingers on the sofa as she thought. “You could make some of those weird wartime recipes – I bet we could find them online. Even some Christmassy ones. I’m sure there was a recipe for Christmas pudding with gravy powder in it…”
“Why would I want to make that? I
t sounds disgusting!” Tilly scrunched up her nose, frowning. “Why would they even do that?”
“To make it look the right colour, I think. Because they couldn’t get most of the proper ingredients. But you should ask Great-Gran. Actually, Tilly, you could interview her for your project! You’re lucky, I shouldn’t think many people in your class have someone in the family to ask.”
“I suppose,” Tilly agreed doubtfully. She sort of knew that Great-Gran had been a child during the war but she’d never sat down and asked her about it. “Would she mind?”
“I expect she’d love to tell you. We can ask her later when we phone.”
Tilly nodded. “I’d better go and do my homework. I’ll think about the train, OK?”
Grandma Ellen called Mum anyway, it turned out, just as they were cooking dinner. Tilly stirred the pasta sauce, listening to Mum’s half of the conversation.
“Yes, I know. I’d mentioned maybe you could meet her at the station but Tilly’s never been on a train on her own before. She’s not sure… I’m sorry, we really wanted to come for longer. Oh, OK.” Mum waved at Tilly. “Grandma wants to talk to you.”
Tilly took the phone. “Hi, Grandma.”
“Hello, Tilly love. Don’t worry about the train, we’ll work something out. I could come and get you in the car.”
Tilly saw Mum start to look worried – she was standing next to Tilly and she could hear Grandma too. “You don’t like driving long journeys,” she reminded Grandma. “Oh, Mum’s waving at me, she wants to talk to you again.” Tilly went back to stirring the pasta sauce, hoping that Mum and Grandma wouldn’t talk for too much longer. She was getting really hungry. After a few minutes, though, Mum handed her the phone again…
Copyright
STRIPES PUBLISHING LTD
An imprint of The Little Tiger Group
1 Coda Studios, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2018
Text copyright © Holly Webb, 2018
Illustrations copyright © Artful Doodlers, 2018
Cover illustration © Britta Teckentrup, 2018
Author photograph copyright © Nigel Bird
eISBN: 978–1–78895–010–7
The right of Holly Webb and Artful Doodlers to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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