The Faeries of Dulwich Woods

Chapter 1. Like The Time I ran Away

Today the big, red house on the hill was silent. It had once been a busy, noisy, messy house, full of laughter and music, but today the weight of the silence was almost unbearable, laden with unspoken sorrows and private misery. It was nearly one o'clock on a sunny March afternoon and the fresh smell of spring was in the air. Beyond the kitchen door, blackbirds were warbling and bees were buzzing. Underneath the kitchen window, purple crocuses and scented violets made a happy contrast with the yellow daffodils and primroses that Mum had sown in the sun-dappled flowerbed. The shady woodland below was busy with joggers, pensioners with their dogs and parents with their children, all enjoying the first of the good weather, happy that the tedious gloom of winter was finally over. Inside the kitchen of the large house on the hill, things were very different; Avery Shaw was alone at the kitchen table, preparing a meagre lunch for her little brother with a wrinkled apple, the scrapings from the jam pot and a stale loaf of bread. She cut off the crusts, swept away the breadcrumbs and took the food and the last of the milk to nine-year-old Riordan. He had been playing games on his iPad (with Dad's expensive headphones on) for several hours straight, which Mum would never have allowed before. Before - when they had been happy, before things went wrong. It was hard to believe that only a year ago the red house had been full of the sound of singing, guitar, piano and light-hearted chaos. Everything had been pretty much perfect; things were very different now.

Avery ate her sandwich in two quick bites and climbed the stairs, walking as quietly as she could so as not to disturb or annoy. She tiptoed along the landing and hovered uncertainly outside her mother's bedroom door. Should she knock and wait or should she go straight in? Would Mum be crying? Oh, how Avery hoped and prayed that she wasn't crying. Would Mum get cross at being disturbed, would she order Avery to go away, would she yell? Or would she simply not respond, which was how she existed these days, distant, mute and emotionally absent. Avery mulled over these scenarios, paralysed with indecision. She longed to help, to do something that would fix all of her mother's problems but she hadn't the faintest idea where to begin, or what to say. Avery shifted from foot to foot, anxiously pulling at one tight, spiral curl from her mop of dark ringlets, ears straining to catch the slightest sound from within. As she lingered in the silent hallway watching the slow dance of radiant dust motes drifting across a narrow beam of sunlight, all that she could hear was the dull, steady thud of her heartbeat. It felt as if she had been waiting outside that bedroom door forever. Eventually, she plucked up her courage and knocked gently on the door.

'Mummy? Mum? I'm just going to take Tanguy for a walk - he hasn't been out today at all. Or yesterday either. Is it okay if I take some money from your purse? We need more milk, eggs and some bagels, we've completely run out. Maybe we could go to the supermarket together, we're out of washing powder as well.' There was no reply; after a few minutes, Avery tried again.

'Riordan's downstairs Mum; he's fine, and I've told him to stay indoors. He's not to go anywhere until I get back from the shop. Is that OK? I won't be long. Do you need anything, is there something I can get for you?'

Avery waited and waited. She thought that she heard a whisper of a sigh, and possibly the muffled sound of someone tossing and turning in bed. Then, once again, there was nothing but silence. Avery was torn; she didn't want to leave the house with Mum like this, but they really were running low on basics and Riordan had to be fed. If Mum didn't come out of her room by this evening, the two of them could make do with scrambled eggs and toast. Avery tiptoed back downstairs, grabbed her sneakers, a bright-pink hoody and her backpack. She took twenty pounds from her mother's handbag, which had been hanging from the back of a kitchen chair for a couple of days now. Yanking the headphones from Riordan's ears, she ignored his shout of protest.

'Don't leave the house alone Rorie, OK? I'll be back in an hour, I'm going to walk to Tesco's to get some more bread, and some other stuff to eat. Be good and don't make any noise because Mum's sleeping, I think, please don't wake her up.'