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Authors: Gill Arbuthnott
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back of Tisian’s patchwork, but in front of him he found a bright hallway with several doors opening off it, the top of a stairway visible at the far end, voices floating up to him.
He went along the hall and started down the stairs, which curved around to the left. As he came round the curve he found himself confronted by a boy and a girl, not children, but not grown yet either. The girl had fair hair, cut short to her shoulders, and the boy was dark. They were staring at him with wide eyes and open mouths. Suddenly he realised what he must look like, torn and bloody and wild, appearing without warning in their world.
Kate and David looked up as they heard footsteps coming along the hall and down the stairs, but instead of Erda they found themselves looking ata man, a complete stranger. He had longish dark hair and wore clothes of green and brown: trousers tucked into boots, a shirt with a jacket-jerkin thing over it. They were all tattered and stained with earth and what looked like blood. The man’s face and hands were scratched and smeared with blood too. He looked awful.
They all spoke at once:
“Who are you?” asked David.
“What happened to you?” asked Kate.
“Don’t be frightened,” Morgan said. “I don’t mean you any harm.”
“We’re not frightened,” said Kate, almost sure she wasn’t, in spite of the man’s appearance. “If the house let you in, you’re probably okay.”
“We were just expecting someone else to come down the stairs,” said David. “You surprised us.” That was true anyway.
“I came through a Door from … another place and was here,” said the man. “Up there.” He pointed back up the stairs.
“What happened to you?” repeated Kate. “How did you get hurt?”
Morgan sat down heavily on a step, lost for words. The boy and girl came closer, concern in their eyes.
“Are you all right?” asked David.
He passed a hand over his eyes. “No.”
“Can we help?” asked Kate.
He lifted his head and looked properly into their faces, for some reason fearing a trick, but he saw nothing but puzzlement and honest concern.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” she continued.
How long was it since he’d last eaten a meal
? He couldn’t remember. He nodded.
“We’ve got food. Come into the kitchen and sit down and we’ll get you something.”
He followed them obediently down the stairs. The girl stopped at a door.
“You might want to wash some of the blood off your face.”
He nodded and went into the room she showed him and watched her run the water. There was a mirror on the wall and when she left him alone he stared at his reflection blankly. He hadn’t realised how bad he looked, wild-eyed like a madman. It was a wonder they hadn’t turned and run as soon as they saw him. He rubbed at the blood on his hands and face until most of it was gone, pulling out a couple of thorns that had stuck deep. A few of the scratches started to bleed again and he dabbed at them with a towel. After a while he gave up and followed a trail of sound through to the kitchen.
“Sit down. There’s some tea for you. The food’s nearly ready.”
There was a mug on the table, steam rising from it. He sat and drank. It was hot and sweet and he wrapped his cold hands round it as he drank.
They’d made him toast and scrambled eggs and they sat opposite him as he ate ravenously and in silence.
“Thank you,” he said when he had finished.
“Your face is still bleeding,” said David. “Do you want some plasters?”
Morgan looked at him, baffled.
“We’ve done First Aid at school. We could do it for you,” added Kate.
Morgan absorbed this incomprehensible statement in silence, which they took for agreement. Kate went for the First Aid box while David poured more tea. He let them clean the bleeding cuts on his face and arms and stick little pink bandages over them.
“Well, at least you look better now,” said the boy.
“Thank you. I should explain why I am
He went along the hall and started down the stairs, which curved around to the left. As he came round the curve he found himself confronted by a boy and a girl, not children, but not grown yet either. The girl had fair hair, cut short to her shoulders, and the boy was dark. They were staring at him with wide eyes and open mouths. Suddenly he realised what he must look like, torn and bloody and wild, appearing without warning in their world.
Kate and David looked up as they heard footsteps coming along the hall and down the stairs, but instead of Erda they found themselves looking ata man, a complete stranger. He had longish dark hair and wore clothes of green and brown: trousers tucked into boots, a shirt with a jacket-jerkin thing over it. They were all tattered and stained with earth and what looked like blood. The man’s face and hands were scratched and smeared with blood too. He looked awful.
They all spoke at once:
“Who are you?” asked David.
“What happened to you?” asked Kate.
“Don’t be frightened,” Morgan said. “I don’t mean you any harm.”
“We’re not frightened,” said Kate, almost sure she wasn’t, in spite of the man’s appearance. “If the house let you in, you’re probably okay.”
“We were just expecting someone else to come down the stairs,” said David. “You surprised us.” That was true anyway.
“I came through a Door from … another place and was here,” said the man. “Up there.” He pointed back up the stairs.
“What happened to you?” repeated Kate. “How did you get hurt?”
Morgan sat down heavily on a step, lost for words. The boy and girl came closer, concern in their eyes.
“Are you all right?” asked David.
He passed a hand over his eyes. “No.”
“Can we help?” asked Kate.
He lifted his head and looked properly into their faces, for some reason fearing a trick, but he saw nothing but puzzlement and honest concern.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” she continued.
How long was it since he’d last eaten a meal
? He couldn’t remember. He nodded.
“We’ve got food. Come into the kitchen and sit down and we’ll get you something.”
He followed them obediently down the stairs. The girl stopped at a door.
“You might want to wash some of the blood off your face.”
He nodded and went into the room she showed him and watched her run the water. There was a mirror on the wall and when she left him alone he stared at his reflection blankly. He hadn’t realised how bad he looked, wild-eyed like a madman. It was a wonder they hadn’t turned and run as soon as they saw him. He rubbed at the blood on his hands and face until most of it was gone, pulling out a couple of thorns that had stuck deep. A few of the scratches started to bleed again and he dabbed at them with a towel. After a while he gave up and followed a trail of sound through to the kitchen.
“Sit down. There’s some tea for you. The food’s nearly ready.”
There was a mug on the table, steam rising from it. He sat and drank. It was hot and sweet and he wrapped his cold hands round it as he drank.
They’d made him toast and scrambled eggs and they sat opposite him as he ate ravenously and in silence.
“Thank you,” he said when he had finished.
“Your face is still bleeding,” said David. “Do you want some plasters?”
Morgan looked at him, baffled.
“We’ve done First Aid at school. We could do it for you,” added Kate.
Morgan absorbed this incomprehensible statement in silence, which they took for agreement. Kate went for the First Aid box while David poured more tea. He let them clean the bleeding cuts on his face and arms and stick little pink bandages over them.
“Well, at least you look better now,” said the boy.
“Thank you. I should explain why I am
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