‘Yes, please,’ Ziggy whispered. They realised that their hands were gripping the green and white duvet that lay across Dad’s bed.

  Mum and Dad didn’t ask Ziggy why they wanted to stay there, they didn’t search for an explanation, and even if they had Ziggy wasn’t sure they’d be able to explain it to them.

  But the truth was, that this place was so different to their bedroom that Ziggy felt sure that if they slept here then the Night Forest wouldn’t come to them that night. If they stayed in this strange bed in this little empty flat, perhaps Ziggy would be safe.

  Chapter 7

  ‘Got everything you need?’ Dad said as he tucked them in that night.

  The bed felt huge compared to their one at home, and Ziggy had decided to sleep right in the middle of it, although that meant the space on either side of them felt strange and discomforting.

  Ziggy and Mum had brought over their duvet, a pillow, overnight things, and also, Ziggy had made sure, Dad’s bedside lamp that they’d used the night before.

  ‘Yes, thanks, Dad.’

  ‘Well, you know where I am if you need me,’ Dad said. ‘It’s … it’s really nice having you here, Zig. I know it might feel a bit strange being in a new place, but I’ll be just through the door in the other room.’

  Dad kissed them on the forehead and left the room, closing the door behind them.

  ‘Dad?’ Ziggy called out immediately.

  Dad cracked open the door again. ‘Yes, sweetie, what is it?’

  ‘Can you leave the door open and the light on?’

  ‘Sure,’ Dad replied, carefully leaving the door open a crack so a ray of light shone through.

  Ziggy lay there, listening to the different sounds of the flat and the street. They thought they could hear the sound of Dad’s neighbours; shuffles and bumps through the walls, the rise and fall of their muffled voices. In this building, Dad’s flat was surrounded by other people – above, below and to either side of them. This was a comforting thought, and so Ziggy felt able to fall asleep.

  They only woke when the hoot of the owl once again pierced through the night.

  Ziggy woke shivering, although they weren’t sure if it was from the cold or from being afraid.

  They were back in the Night Forest, only this time Dad’s new bed was sitting amongst the trees. The particularly large tree loomed over where Ziggy lay, just as before, its branches beckoning towards them.

  ‘I can’t be here,’ Ziggy whispered to themself, and then: ‘It must be a dream, it must be a dream.’

  But it was exactly as before, as real and shocking and terrifying.

  ‘Please let me go back,’ Ziggy spoke again.

  For a long time, Ziggy kept their eyes tightly closed, with the duvet wrapped securely around them, wishing and hoping that they might be able to will themself back to Dad’s new flat or even fall back to sleep. Of course, this was impossible. The sounds of the forest pierced through Ziggy: the owl’s hoots, the wind dancing through the leaves and then one that sounded nearby … the distinct noise of something rustling along on the ground.

  It was getting closer and closer to the bed and, with each movement, Ziggy could feel themself tense. What if, whatever it was, came onto the bed? What would Ziggy do then? What was it? It stopped occasionally, but the rustling sound would come again and Ziggy tried to work out exactly where it was.

  All night, the rustling creature rooted around the edges of Ziggy’s bed. Ziggy spent the entire time frozen to the spot, rigid with fear.

  Ziggy tried not to move, so as not to alert the creature that they were there, but they could feel an ache in their legs from not moving for so long. Very, very slowly, they turned onto their other side. Ziggy moved so slowly and carefully that they were sure they hadn’t made a sound, but then the mattress made a quiet squeak from their movement. Ziggy held their breath and the creature too stopped moving.

  In a way it was worse, to have the silence. At least when the creature was moving, Ziggy knew where it was. But then, it ran again, quickly this time and Ziggy felt like they could make out the direction of its steps. It seemed like it was coming in the direction of Ziggy’s head and then there was a different quality to the sound. The scraping of paws against the leg of the bed.

  Ziggy sat up, in shock: it was climbing onto the bed with them.

  Then, out of nowhere, came that same haunting, barking shriek that had scared Ziggy so much the night before. It echoed through the forest and Ziggy felt like their skin was tingling with fear. It, too, sounded like it was close.

  But in the next moment, a different sound floated through the air to Ziggy. It was the sound of the bedroom door scuffing against the carpet and then Dad’s voice: ‘Morning Ziggy.’

  Ziggy looked up and saw that they were back in Dad’s bedroom. Dad was standing at the doorway and smiling over at Ziggy.

  ‘Did you sleep well, love?’ he asked.

  Chapter 8

  ‘Let me get this right, Dad said, scratching his head. ‘You don’t want to stay with either Mum or me, tonight?’

  Ziggy’s breakfast lay untouched in front of them. The toast looked a little bit like cardboard, brown and dry, and Ziggy felt so awful from feeling tired that the thought of eating it turned their stomach.

  Ziggy gave a tiny nod.

  ‘Oh darling,’ Dad said, reaching out for Ziggy’s hand on the table. Though there weren’t many things in Dad’s place, he had made some origami flowers out of a magazine and placed them in a small empty bottle of ginger beer. The makeshift vase of flowers was placed in the middle of the table. He must have done that when I was sleeping, thought Ziggy.

  ‘Can I stay over somewhere different?’ Ziggy asked again, in a small voice.

  ‘I think we need to talk about this with Mum,’ Dad said. Ziggy thought Dad looked over to the other empty chair around the table as though Mum was sitting there. ‘Let me give her a call now.’

  Dad went into his bedroom to call Mum. He shut the door so Ziggy couldn’t hear what he said.

  As soon as he had come in to wake them that morning, Ziggy was insistent with Dad that they needed to sleep at someone else’s house that night. They knew they had to try and get away from the Night Forest and, though they weren’t sure it would work, they had to try something else. It wasn’t safe in their bedroom, nor in Dad’s new place; their only option was to try somewhere different.

  Dad emerged a few moments later, looking a little flustered, but he smiled at Ziggy warmly.

  ‘Mum sends her love. We’re going to meet her at her place, and all have a chat together, OK? Finish up your breakfast and we’ll get going.’

  ‘I’m not very hungry,’ Ziggy said.

  ‘Ah, would you like something else?’ Dad asked. ‘Maybe a piece of fruit? Or I think I have some cereal?’

  ‘No, thanks Dad, I’m OK.’

  ‘Alright, well, I’ll tell you what. You go get ready and I’ll make you up a little plate just in case you do feel peckish before we go.’

  When Ziggy came back through in a few minutes, dressed and ready to leave, there was a plate of chopped fruit and crackers arranged to look like a face next to the flowers.

  ‘Da-ad,’ Ziggy muttered to themself. But they ate the grape nose, the orange slice cheeks and the banana smile.

  ‘Ready?’ Dad said, appearing behind them as they finished off the crackers.

  It was a spring day, and daffodils were bursting from the ground at the roots of the trees they passed. But Ziggy looked away from them, because they reminded them of the Night Forest and, particularly, the large, shadowy tree that had leaned right over their bed the last two nights. Mum was at the door to welcome them in and gave Ziggy a tight hug.

  ‘How are you?’ she whispered into their ear.

  Ziggy didn’t answer, because they didn’t know what to say. Part of them felt just fine because it was daytime and the sun was shining, and another felt full of worry that they’d have to go back to the scary Night Forest.

  Mum drew back and gently tipped Ziggy’s face up to hers so she could look them in the eye. She studied Ziggy’s face for a moment, before giving their cheek a soft stroke.

  ‘You look a bit tired, sweetie,’ she said. Then she looked over to Dad, ‘Did they wake in the night?’

  ‘Not a peep,’ Dad said. ‘I stuck my nose in before I turned in, and you were out for the count, I didn’t know anything was up until this morning.’

  ‘Well, come through, I thought we could have some pancakes.’

  In many ways, it was a morning just like so many Ziggy had known before. Their favourite breakfast was always pancakes, and so they made them often as a family. Ziggy would help crack the eggs and whisk the batter. Dad would clear the table as best he could, although there would still be piles of books, letters and some flowers that had nowhere else to go. Mum would stand on a stool to reach the huge tub of chocolate spread kept on the top of the cupboard – the only place it fitted because it was so large and their cupboards were so full. They would all take a turn at flipping the pancakes into the air, with varied success.

  Once they were all sat down with food and drinks in front of them, Mum started talking.

  ‘Ziggy, love, could you tell us why you don’t want to sleep here or with Dad tonight?’

  Ziggy had just taken a huge bite of the pancake that they’d spread thickly with chocolate, and now the mouthful felt heavy in their mouth. They tried to chew and swallow it down, but it caught in their throat and they started to cough.

  ‘Take it easy, Zigster,’ Dad said, as Mum held out a glass of orange juice towards them.

  After Ziggy got their breath back and took a sip of juice, they looked at each of their parents in turn. They could see that they were worried, and Ziggy knew it was because of them asking not to sleep at either of their houses.

  ‘It must feel like a shock, the news about us separating, and we just wanted to let you know you can talk to us, about however you’re feeling,’ Mum said.

  Ziggy swallowed down another glug of juice.

  The truth was that Ziggy didn’t know how they felt about their parents separating. All they knew was that they didn’t want to go back to the Night Forest when they went to bed that night, so they had to try and see if they could stay somewhere else that evening.

  ‘I just want … to stay somewhere else tonight,’ Ziggy said.

  Mum and Dad looked at each other as though they wanted to say something, but they didn’t speak a word.

  Finally, Mum spoke again. ‘Do you know where you would like to stay?’

  ‘I don’t know, just not here, or at Dad’s.’

  ‘Aunt Jen’s?’ Dad suggested. ‘Or we could ask one of your friends from school – Caleb or Bindi or Johnny?’

  ‘I know Aunt Jen would love to have you,’ Mum added.

  Ziggy tested out each of the different places in their mind. ‘Aunt Jen,’ they said firmly. Aunt Jen had a son, Kip, who was a little older than Ziggy. Ziggy would have to sleep on Kip’s bedroom floor if they stayed with them, as they had done before. Surely the Night Forest wouldn’t appear if they were with Kip. And if it did, then maybe Kip would go with them and then Ziggy wouldn’t be alone there.

  ‘OK, let me give her a shout and see if we can set it up,’ Mum said. ‘I’m sure it will be OK.’

  ‘It’s school tomorrow,’ Dad said, ‘And so I could come by in the morning to take you.’

  ‘OK,’ Ziggy said. Their parents spurred into action, making calls and checking their phones whilst the pancake breakfast lay uneaten, forgotten.

  Ziggy looked at their rolled-up pancake again and realised that they still weren’t hungry.

  Though they kept telling themself it would be alright if they were with Kip, part of Ziggy still feared they’d be lost in the trees again that night.

  Chapter 9

  Aunt Jen let Ziggy in when they arrived with their overnight bag, packed with their school uniform and things for the night.

  ‘Hello darling,’ she said, pulling them towards her for a hug. Then she gave Mum a big hug too.

  ‘Are you coming in for a cuppa?’ she asked Mum.

  Mum hesitated for a moment. ‘Umm, no, I’d better head off.’

  ‘Come here, you,’ Mum said, reaching for Ziggy. ‘I hope you have fun with Kip. And if you need anything or want to come home, just tell Aunt Jen, I can come back and get you anytime.’

  Ziggy nodded as Mum held them for another hug. She didn’t let go for a bit longer than usual. Then she turned away quickly and left without looking back.

  ‘Let’s get you all sorted out,’ said Aunt Jen, carrying Ziggy’s bag up the stairs to Kip’s room. Ziggy followed her. Aunt Jen had the same red hair as Mum, although Aunt Jen’s was longer and had strands of grey-silver running through it. ‘Kip will be back soon, but we’ve already set up a bed for you in his room.’

  Kip’s room was, as usual, full to bursting with Kip’s various projects. There was a half-made model of an airplane on one table, a washing-up bowl full of corks floating in water, and a strange cardboard box with sections cut out with cardboard tubes poking out of it.

  ‘OK, let’s go downstairs,’ said Aunt Jen. ‘I thought we could make a fire. I know it’s spring, but there’s a nip in the air today.’

  Ziggy nodded, suddenly overcome with a heavy, cold weariness. Because of the visits to the Night Forest, they hadn’t slept properly for two nights now, and it was starting to make them feel odd. It was as if, with every movement they made, they were swimming through heavy treacle.

  Ziggy sat down in front of the fireplace, while Aunt Jen bustled with firelighters and built a small pyramid out of thin pieces of wood and bits of paper. Ziggy clasped both legs to them, trying to get warm before the fire got going. Aunt Jen lit the pile with one match, and it caught quickly. Ziggy found themself mesmerized, watching the creeping orange flames take over the kindling and twisted scraps of newspaper.

  Soon, Ziggy could feel the heat from the flames reach them, and they let their legs swing out into a cross-legged position as they felt a little wave of relaxation roll over them.

  ‘You alright Zig?’ Aunt Jen asked. She spoke very quietly.

  Ziggy nodded without thinking.

  ‘It must feel like a strange old time, with what’s happening with your Mum and Dad.’

  Ziggy felt their head nod again, more out of habit than answering her.

  ‘I found these the other day,’ Aunt Jen said, standing and reaching for a thick bound photo album from the bookshelf to one side of them.

  She laid the album out carefully on the floor in front of them and flicked open the cover to the first page. Two little girls were standing in front of a swimming pool, making faces at the camera. Their hair looked a little bit wet. as though they’d just been in the pool.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Ziggy asked. There was something about the younger girl that drew Ziggy’s attention.

  ‘Can you guess?’ Aunt Jen said with a smile.

  ‘Is that … is it … Mum?’ Ziggy said.

  Aunt Jen nodded. ‘Yes, and that’s me. We were on holiday in Cornwall – our first one with just Mum I think, after our parents split up.’

  Ziggy didn’t reply, but Aunt Jen continued to turn the pages. The photos were mostly of Ziggy’s mum and Aunt Jen as they got older, and Aunt Jen kept pointing out when and where she thought they were taken.

  ‘That’s your Grandad’s wedding, when he married Bronwen,’ she said, pointing to a funny photo of herself and Ziggy’s mum wearing long, peach-coloured dresses that were so low to the ground they looked impossible to walk in.

  ‘How old were you when Granny and Grandad stopped being together?’ Ziggy found themself asking, suddenly curious.

  ‘I was not much older than you are now, and your mum was four,’ Aunt Jen replied.

  She was silent for a moment.

  ‘You know, I remember feeling worried about it, about how different it was going to be,’ she said. The fire crackled gently in front of them and Ziggy wondered if their aunt was going to say something else, but she didn’t.

  Ziggy turned the album page. A loose photo fell out and flittered down to the carpet, making Ziggy think of a leaf falling from a tree.

  Slowly, Ziggy picked it up and turned it over. They recognised it immediately. It was a copy of one they also had up on the wall of their landing, a photo Ziggy had walked past countless times. So many times that they’d stopped noticing it.

  It was a picture of their parents, on their wedding day. They were not looking at the camera but at each other; it was not one of those professional photos where they were told to stand here, look here and smile, but instead a shot of them caught unaware.

  There was a tree behind them, with white-pink blossom buds sprouting from its branches, and although Ziggy’s mum’s face was turned away from the camera, Ziggy could tell she was laughing. Ziggy’s dad was wearing the biggest smile, as though he’d just told a joke and was pleased about how funny it was.

  Aunt Jen took a breath as though she were going to say something, but she didn’t speak.

  ‘Mum and Dad’s wedding day,’ Ziggy said to fill the silence. And then: ‘Do you think they’ll get back together? They look so happy. Why would they break up when they’re happy?’

  Slowly and gently, Aunt Jen spoke. ‘It’s complicated, I think. You can’t ever tell what’s going on in someone else’s relationship. But right now, I don’t think they will get back together, no.’

  Ziggy felt a flood of sadness rush through them.

  ‘But one thing I can tell you for sure – and what I realised when our parents separated – is that though things are going to change … it’ll be different getting used to your mum and dad not being together as a couple anymore … there’s one thing that won’t ever change: how much your mum and dad love you. The shape of your family may be different but the love in your family, Ziggy, that is stronger than ever.’

 

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