see them grow. Several streamed past her now in the wake of one parent. Through lily pads and reeds, endlessly twisting in the eddies, soft yellowwet and sleek. Today though there was a red string around her favourite tree. It began there and then led away to others. Joining them up in red. All twisty round things like bark and shrub and trunk. It was ribbon and shiny and she wasn’t entirely sure what to think about it. Oddly gauche and a little cheap. Mummy would be very unkind about the fabric. She really didn’t like this interruption of the green and all the things that lived, and swam and grew in the park. After all, it was at the bottom of their garden. With their own gate. She couldn’t quite work out why it was there or who had placed it there during the night. It must have been in the night because she has been asleep. She hadn’t brushed her teeth because mummy had changed the toothpaste to something that was white and gritty and reminded her of a quarry they had visited in Wales. “Don’t be silly Sarah, it’s much better for you. And if you don’t clean your teeth they will all fall out and then no man will want to marry you.” Now. Under her favourite monkey-puzzle yesterday, mushrooms had started to grow. No fairy circles of magic yet, but brown buttons that fallened and burst when you poked them leaving a mess not to step in. If you stepped inside, you would vanish. Whisked away below into darkness by fairies that, unlike the dreamy Arthur Rackham ones, were nasty. Fairies were builders. And very clever.