“Mom!” said Mia sharply, and at the same time I said, “Not now!” We already knew about the Millers’ sofa, and no way did we want Mom talking about her experiences on it over breakfast.
Before she could take another deep breath (the worst of it was that she remembered not just one embarrassing experience, but she had an almost inexhaustible supply of them), I added quickly, “I stayed home last night because I felt like I was coming down with a cold, and anyway, I had a lot of work to do for school.” I could hardly say that I’d wanted to go to bed early on a secret mission, wearing the incredibly ugly trapper’s cap that I’d stolen from Charles. Of course we hadn’t told anyone what we did at night in our dreams—and presumably no one would have believed us, anyway. We’d have been carted straight off to join Anabel in the psychiatric hospital. Of everyone at the breakfast table, only Grayson knew about the dream business, but I was fairly sure that since the events of eight and a half weeks ago, he hadn’t once gone through his own dream door, and I also guessed he thought we’d all keep away from the dream corridors. Grayson had never felt happy going into other people’s dreams; he thought it was all creepy and dangerous, and he’d have been horrified if he knew that we simply couldn’t leave it alone. Unlike Henry, he’d definitely have condemned my operation last night as immoral.
Incidentally, I’d had to wash my hair twice to get rid of the smell of sheepskin from that cap, but there was still something the matter with it. When Lottie, who had gone to get herself a second helping of scrambled eggs, passed behind me, my hair crackled audibly and stood on end, only to lie back against Lottie’s pink angora sweater. Everyone started to laugh, one by one, even me once I’d glanced in the mirror above the sideboard.
“Like a porcupine,” said Mia as I tried smoothing my hair down on my head again. “We really might as well be at the zoo this morning. Speaking of zoos, who’s the extra place for?” She pointed to the empty plate beside Lottie. “Is Uncle Charles coming to breakfast?”
At the sound of his name, Lottie and I jumped almost at the same time. Lottie presumably in excitement; mine was more of a guilty start. As if on cue, we heard the front door open, and I tried to prepare myself for the worst. But the singed smell that suddenly rose to my nostrils came, to my relief, from my slice of toast.
And the energetic footsteps click-clacking along the hall didn’t belong to Charles either, but to someone else. They were unmistakable. Mia groaned quietly and cast me a meaningful look. I rolled my eyes. I’d really rather have seen a singed Charles. So long as he was only slightly singed at the edges, of course.
The last of the warm Christmassy feeling seemed to leave the room, and there she stood in the doorway: the Beast in Ocher. Also known as “the she-devil with the Hermès scarf,” in ordinary life Philippa Adelaide Spencer, or Granny, as Grayson and Florence called her. Apparently her friends at the bridge club knew her as Peachy Pippa, but I wasn’t going to believe that until I heard it with my own ears.
“Oh, I see you’ve started without me,” she said instead of hello, good morning, or anything like that. “Are those American manners?”
Mia and I exchanged another glance. If the front door hadn’t been left unlocked, then the Beast in Ocher had a key to it. Alarming.
“You’re over half an hour late, Mother,” said Ernest, standing up to kiss her on both cheeks.
“Really? What time did you tell me?”
“I didn’t,” said Ernest. “You invited yourself yesterday, remember? You said you’d be here for breakfast at nine thirty.”
“Nonsense, I never said anything about breakfast. Of course I had it at home. Oh, thank you, darling.”
Grayson was helping her off with her (ocher) coat—a fox had given its life for the fur collar—and Florence beamed and said, “Oh, you’re wearing your (ocher) twinset; it really suits you, Granny!”
Lottie, sitting beside me, had tried to get to her feet as well, but I held her firmly down by the sleeve of her sweater. Last time she had bobbed the Beast a curtsy, and no way was I having her do that again.