The Faeries of Dulwich Woods

Chapter 2 - The Scent Of May Tree Flower

Avery waited. And waited and then waited some more. The slow minutes turned to hours and the dappled sunlight overhead faded slowly westward. Not one jogger or dog walker happened by to rescue her from this strange situation (which was quite inexplicable). The forest was unnaturally quiet - no panicked voices were calling a child's name, there was no distressed mother nor frightened father searching the paths and scouring the undergrowth for their missing son. It was now late in the afternoon; Avery sat cross-legged on the damp, wooden bench with Bihan Ruz fast asleep in her lap, curled up like a cat. She gnawed at her fingernails with increasing anxiety; at least she had faithful Tanguy for company - scared though he was, he would not abandon her. Still too unnerved to approach the curious little boy, Tanguy watched over her from his spot across the clearing as the afternoon passed slowly by. The only other living creature in sight was the chattering crow which descended from the forest canopy and landed at the edge of the clearing. It was much larger than the usual woodland crows and it had a small but distinctive patch of white feathers in the middle of its breast. The crow spent several minutes striding over the leaf litter in magisterial fashion, regarding her all the while with a beady eye. Then it uttered four short, clamorous caws and took flight, leaving the forest entirely silent in its wake.

Not a single soul has come looking for this child, so I guess I have no alternative, he'll have to come home with me, thought Avery ruefully, with a bit of luck Mum might be up and if she is, she can call the Police to see if he's been reported missing. I can't stay here any longer, Riordan needs me. This is bizarre - how can someone just leave a toddler alone in the woods? And if he did wander away unnoticed, why hasn't anyone missed him by now? I'll wait half an hour more, and then surely no one can say that I've done anything wrong.

Avery looked at her wristwatch and on the stroke of five-thirty, she rose, carrying the sleeping child with his head resting on one shoulder, her backpack slung precariously over the other. She whistled to Tanguy and started slowly and carefully towards the railway tunnel. Tanguy eyed her warily but soon bounded ahead when he realised where they were going. He remained uneasy about the presence of the strange child because he refused to walk next to her, but he did stop every few yards and look back to make sure that she was following. Avery wanted to grab his leash but burdened with both the sleeping toddler and the heavy backpack she was worried that she might miss, and frighten him into running off altogether. If I give him space, he's more likely to head for home, she thought, once we get over the Victorian tunnel, up the steps and out of the woods there are no roads to cross anyway, so he should be quite safe.

Avery was hot, breathless and exhausted by the time she reached the familiar front door with its Victorian, stained-glass panels. As she half-expected, no one came to greet her as she stepped into the hallway. Carrying Bihan Ruz in one arm, she wriggled out of the straps of her backpack and lowered it gently to the floor. Then she went into the kitchen, opened the French windows and managed to release Tanguy's harness with one hand. She watched with concern as he bolted onto the terrace and scrambled under the garden table. Avery left the door ajar (in case he decided to come back in) and went to find Riordan. He was in the family room, lying on his stomach with his face propped on his hands, engrossed in his favourite cartoon - so far so good. Now, what about Mum? With Bihan Ruz still dozing on her shoulder, she grasped the wooden handrail and pulled herself upstairs to her mother's room. Avery tapped on the door.

'Mum?'

No answer, and in an instant Avery was suddenly tearful. She was so very tired, both physically and emotionally. She was tired of being sad, tired of worrying about Mum and Riordan, tired of feeling so alone and she needed help. She desperately wanted to hand this puzzle off to an appropriate adult. She knocked again and entered without waiting for an answer. The heavy curtains were drawn, blocking every chink of light and the air in the room was stuffy yet sweet, with the powdery scent of Mum's favourite perfume. She could hear the measured pace of Mum's breathing as she slept, one thin, dark-brown arm flung across the rumpled sheets, dishevelled black hair strewn across her pillow.