‘I think it would be better if I approached alone,’ whispered Nab. ‘She might be scared if she saw all three of us together at first; after all, she has seen me before.’

Warrigal and Brock agreed; the owl flew up into one of the trees, where he perched on a branch from which he had a good view of the whole of the back of the house, and the badger melted back into the shadows, watchful and tense, ready to dash out and render help the instant it might be needed. To his surprise he realized that he was quite enjoying himself; there was not too much danger, he didn’t think, but what there was took his mind off the future and enabled him to live for the moment for a while. These sorts of adventures were the kind he was used to from the times before Nab had come and he felt more in control of himself than he had for quite a time. He settled down, under the overhanging branches of one of the trees, right back against its trunk and, looking out, saw that Nab had reached the end of the hedge of trees and had started to creep along the wall of the cottage towards the first of the windows. The last of the evening light had almost gone and the night was nearly upon them; against the darkening sky the badger saw a lone rook flying home and suddenly he was filled with a wish for the old days when he would have been emerging at about this time for his evening walk. Now all that had changed; their lives had been taken over by the hands of destiny.

Beth was in the middle room decorating the Christmas tree. They were late doing it this year because everyone had been so busy; her father at work, her mother with the new baby and she herself had been unable to find the time because of all the little things that need to be done at this time of year; buying presents for the family, visiting grannies and grandpas and seeing friends. There had also been a lot more for her to do in the house because her mother’s time seemed totally taken up by little James and she had found herself making meals, washing and cleaning somewhat more than usual. So now it was Christmas Eve, snow was on the ground outside, the atmosphere in the house was full of excitement and anticipation and she was hanging tinsel and coloured balls on the tree. Life was perfect; and yet she was not content. She had not felt truly at peace with herself since the spring day when she had come face to face with that extraordinary boy down by the stream. She had told no one and the secret had burned away inside her with the effort of not telling but to her surprise she had succeeded in keeping it quiet. Something about the boy had sparked off within her a restlessness that had troubled her ever since and she had taken to going for long walks by herself through the woods and fields; at first in the hope of meeting him again but, when this seemed to become more and more of an improbability as the days passed and there was still no sign of him, she had simply walked because it was only while she was out amongst the trees and fields that she felt content. Eventually though, she had fought this feeling within herself and had settled down to her school work again, which had begun to suffer terribly from her inability to concentrate on any one thing for more than a few seconds at a time. She had then become more like her old self to everyone around; her mother, her father, her elder brother, her teacher and her friends. Once more she was a pretty, studious, diligent, polite and cheerful little girl. She was pleased because she loved all these people and it hurt her to worry them but she knew that it was only an act, a facade put up for their sakes, and that behind it she still burnt with energy and felt as restless and bored as before. Still, she hoped that if she worked at it hard enough, the feeling would eventually go away and, as time went on and the memory of his face and those dark eyes began to fade, she even started to believe that she was succeeding. She had been to some parties this autumn and winter and had quite enjoyed them and was due to go out tonight to a dance in the Village Hall. She was looking forward to this and as soon as the tree was finished she would go upstairs to her bedroom and get ready.

However, just a few weeks ago she had had a dream; it was not an unpleasant dream, in fact quite the reverse, but it had brought all her old feelings of unrest flooding back. She had dreamt of his face, and it had been as vivid in the dream as if he had been standing in front of her; his vibrant eyes had searched hers the way they had that day and she had felt strangely drawn to him. Then there were disconnected snatches of other pictures; in one of them she was walking at his side along a mountain path and they were followed by a dog, a badger, a hare and a large brown owl; in another he was giving her a ring, a beautiful ring of a deep golden amber with silver wisps inside it.

These dreams had recurred almost every night since then and, although the images of his face and the ring remained constant, as did the animals, the others changed so that in some of them they were walking along a beach and the sea was crashing against the shore and in others they were in a marsh, lonely, desolate and lost in the middle of the night. The dreams occurred so often and were so real that she sometimes felt as if they were her real life and it was her daytime life that was a dream. She began to exist in a strange twilight world where the two became confused and intermingled to such an extent that she was frequently surprised to find, during the day, that she was not with the boy and the animals and she found herself referring to incidents in her dream life when she was talking to her mother or to friends.

Now it was Christmas and she was hoping that the excitements and joys of this time would help her to return to normality. She hoped for this and yet the strangest thing of all was that although the dreams made her muddled and uneasy she longed for the end of the day when she would once again inhabit their world and be with the little band of companions as they journeyed through the countryside.

She was just putting the finishing touches to her arrangement of the lights on the tree when her mother called through to her from the kitchen.

‘Beth, lay the table would you, dear? Your father will be home soon and the meal is almost ready. Get some sherry glasses out for us; you can have a little glass as well.’ There was a pause and Beth heard the clatter of pans in the kitchen. ‘Have you finished the tree? I suppose we’ll have to get your father to look at the lights again. They never work; it’s the same every year.’

Beth switched them on at the plug socket and nothing happened.

‘No, they haven’t come on, Mummy,’ she said, and stood back to admire her handiwork. ‘The tree looks nice though,’ she called.

She went over to the big oak dresser which stood against one wall of the room and pulled out the cutlery drawer so that she could lay the table. The mats she fetched from a ledge which ran along the bottom of the dresser and she then walked across to the middle of the room and began to lay four places on the large oval dining table which smelt of polish and shone in the flickering light of the candles which she had lit and placed in the centre. Upstairs she could hear sounds of movement as her elder brother who, at fifteen, was two years older than her, though he sometimes acted as if it were ten, got up from the desk where he had been reading a book and walked over to the door of his room.

‘What time is it, Beth?’ he shouted down.

‘Five o’clock,’ she told him. ‘Come and fix these lights before Father gets home.’