To order your copy of The Winter of Enchantment see our online shop, visit our Edinburgh bookshop or one of our Stockists.

From his perch on the window seat Sebastian watched the November gusts scatter the heaps of leaves, toss each one in the air and then blow them into new piles. The trees looked awkward, their branches spiky and black. They peered sadly at their reflections cast on the gutter water, which choked and dribbled through the dams made by the street litter and leaves.

It was afternoon, and the sky was grey and heavy. It looked as if it were being held up by the pointed roofs of the London houses. The horses and carriages rocked and rattled past the window where Sebastian sat, and the familiar sound was comforting. It made the mournful trees and the hanging sky seem majestic instead of gloomy. The library fire was burning bright and orange, and was the only light in the room, so that vast shadows stood in corners and lurked among the shelves. Sebastian was not in the least nervous, though. He always felt that the shadows had as much right to use the library as he did and would in fact have been lonely if he had had to spend these dark winter afternoons without them.

It would soon be time for tea and Mrs Parkin would come bustling in to light the lamps, and the shadows would slip quickly through the walls and under the floors to find another quiet place to stand and brood. Sebastian rested his forehead against the cold glass and watched the windows grow from grey to yellow in the houses opposite, as the families gathered together for their tea. He wondered if his father would be having his tea alone, and then he remembered that time in India is not the same as it is in England, and it would not be tea-time there but probably dinner-time or even the middle of the night.

He thought about the letter he’d had that morning from his father. It had said that he would be coming home in a month’s time, bringing his new wife with him, and also that he had a surprise for him, which he thought would make him very happy, but Sebastian would have to wait until his return to find out what it was.

Sebastian’s mother had died when he was three. That was ten years ago, and since then he and his father had managed very well with Mrs Parkin and her niece, Sarah, to look after them. William looked after the carriage and horses, and Sylvester looked after his father’s business affairs. Sebastian could not remember his mother at all. He had only a large portrait on the stairs to tell him what she had been like. She was dressed all in white, and sitting in a garden among trees and long grasses, so the effect of the painting was all white and green except for the little bird on her hand, which was pale turquoise.

Sebastian was shaken out of the dreaming doze he had fallen into by the clatter of the tea-tray, Mrs Parkin’s solid tread on the stair, and the click of the library door opening.

‘Sitting in the dark, again, you funny child?’ said Mrs Parkin. As she stood in the doorway, the bun on her head looked exactly like an orange balanced on the top of a big curvy shape. She put the tray down and lit the gas lamps. The shadows wavered and melted away. Her round shining face appeared out of the gloom and Sebastian smiled at her with affection. The silver teapot glistened and steamed. The pile of toast wobbled uncertainly, and then slid into a heap.

‘How was Latin this morning?’ she said, as she arranged the tea things.

‘Oh, all right, I suppose. I don’t think I’ll ever be very good at it,’ said Sebastian, sadly.

‘Well I’ve never done a word of it myself, and I’ve managed so I dare say you will too.’ Mrs Parkin was a very cheering person to be with. She always made life seem easier than you thought it was. ‘Have you finished your homework, Sebastian? The others will be going out this evening so I thought we could have a nice cosy supper in the kitchen together.’

‘Lovely. Yes, I have done it. There wasn’t much today.’

‘Rightio then, have your tea and then pop out for a walk or something, and I’ll have it ready by half-past six.’

A moment later and she was plodding down the stairs again. Sebastian was hungry and quickly finished his tea. Then he sat back and gazed at the teapot, wondering if he should go for a walk. The teapot had been brought back by his father from one of his many journeys abroad. In certain lights and from a certain angle you could see a man’s face on it, with a beard and heavy eyebrows, and very wrinkled. Sebastian looked at the strange face. Then he jumped. Surely he was mistaken? Just for a moment he thought that he had seen the teapot wink at him! He looked harder. It wasn’t usual for teapots to wink at people, he reminded himself — it was probably just the flickering of the firelight. The face grinned back at him and, just as Sebastian was beginning to feel silly about staring out a teapot, it slowly and deliberately dropped its silver eyelid and raised it again. Sebastian rubbed his eyes. He was probably more imaginative than a good many children, but nothing like this had ever happened to him before. When he picked up the teapot and looked at it closely, it was just as it had always been, and he could run his fingers over the face and find it quite solid. He decided that he would go for a walk, which always helped him to think, so he went downstairs to find his coat and gaiters.

Pulling his tartan muffler tighter round his throat, he stepped out into the street. The gusts were stronger now, and everyone was hurrying to get home. They didn’t notice the small boy with untidy brown hair and grey eyes standing on the pavement, watching the traffic rush by. The breath of the horses as they snorted and strained made great coils of mist, and the black, lumbering shapes of the hansom cabs seemed to miss each other only by inches as they leaned from side to side, springs groaning and squeaking.

Sebastian started to walk along the street, and after a time he no longer noticed what was going on around him. He was thinking about the teapot and what it could possibly mean, for he was certain now that he had not imagined it. After half an hour’s walking he was still quite baffled and beginning to feel cold. When he looked around to find the quickest way back, he found that he’d walked much further than he’d intended. Fortunately he remembered that he’d been this way before and he knew that by following the back streets he would easily be home in time for supper. It was almost fully dark now and growing colder all the time, and just as Sebastian turned the corner into a narrow little street, a few snowflakes fell before him. Soon they were going down his neck, gathering on his eyelashes, making the toes of his black boots wet and shiny and falling thicker and faster every minute. It was useless to try and hurry. The pavements were slippery and he kept banging into everyone else. So he walked quite slowly, glancing up now and then to watch the flakes hurtling down from the dark sky. Then a commotion was caused by a carriage which was trying to take a short cut down the narrow street. All the passers-by had to crowd back against the fronts of the buildings to avoid being sprayed from head to foot with slush. Sebastian made for a shop doorway nearby, and found himself almost trampled underfoot by the hoard of people who had chosen the same doorway to hide from the flying mud and snow. In fact there was so much shoving and pushing that the door behind Sebastian gave way with a gentle click and he found himself separated from the crowd and the weather, and standing in what appeared to be a dark and rather gloomy furniture shop.

An old man and a young man were standing in one corner, talking to each other, and they didn’t seem to have noticed Sebastian’s arrival. They continued to talk as if he wasn’t there. He was afraid of letting in an avalanche of people if he opened the door again, so he decided to wait for a few moments, and, being naturally inquisitive, began to look more carefully at the shop. It was full of tables and chairs, mostly rather battered and broken down, with thick layers of dust everywhere. It didn’t seem to be very interesting and the dust made him want to sneeze, but just as he was about to go out again, he saw a mirror at the back of the shop. It hung in the gloom over a cracked, marble washstand. It was an oval mirror, rather old-fashioned, with a carved silver frame and handles at the sides. What had attracted his attention was the fact that he couldn’t see anything in it at all. The glass was a strange dull green. He moved forward into the gloom to take a closer look. And, as he stared at it, he saw what appeared to be a mist, moving slowly over the surface. He put out his hand to touch it and the mist closed over his fingers. As he watched, an extraordinary thing happened. The mist began to swirl and coil itself over the glass and round the frame. Faster and faster it whirled and all the time it grew brighter and brighter. Wisps groped out like thin fingers into the dusty air. Sebastian watched in amazement as the wreaths of smoke twisted and writhed and slowly the mirror turned a pure, emerald green. In his astonishment, Sebastian leaned forward and touched the handles. At once the clouds of smoke were drawn into the mirror and slowly the green mist dissolved away. The mirror seemed to burn with a white light and then — most astonishing and unbelievable of all — the face of a young girl appeared before him. She looked about twelve years old. Long brown hair hung round her pale face. Her eyes were green and glistening with tears. Suddenly she looked up, and gave a start. She seemed to be staring straight at Sebastian. An expression of wonder and bewilderment came over her sad face, and she parted her lips to speak.

‘Who are you?’ said a little voice from far away.

Sebastian was so startled that he let go of the handles and took a step backwards. At once the mist began to close over the surface and he just caught a glimpse of the girl’s face dissolving into tears before it vanished and the mirror became a sheet of dull green glass again.

To order your copy of The Winter of Enchantment see our online shop, visit our Edinburgh bookshop or one of our Stockists.