Margot quietly.
Yes, I say. I step back again.
Margot is right. Something is wrong with rocks that move. I look at the stepping stones again. Seven big stones that look very heavy. Too heavy for children to carry.
It must have been a witch, I say.
Witches don’t exist, says Margot.
On the other side of the stream there are evening primroses. I want to go and get them.
It was a witch, I say. Look at the flowers.
The flowers?
Witches do that, they put things you want in places you shouldn’t go. They make houses out of cakes to catch you and then they put you in cages to fatten you up.
Flowers aren’t cakes. What do you want the flowers for? says Margot.
For making Maman happy with.
Do you think they would make her happy?
Well, they’re yellow, I say. I don’t know. Maybe nothing will make her happy.
That’s just silly, says Margot. There are more than a thousand things in the world and one of them must make Maman happy.
But how do we know which one?
Exactly! says Margot. This is our new challenge. We are going to use our cleverness to make Maman happy again. We will start by trying yellow flowers.
OK, I’ll go and get some, I say. But then I stop again. No, I’ve changed my mind.
It wasn’t a witch! says Margot.
I’m not going! If it wasn’t a witch then who was it? I say. It could only have been a grownup, but grownups don’t come down here. Even Josette just calls the donkeys when it’s their feeding time and they go and meet her up by the fence.
No grownups at all? says Margot.
I think about it. The only grownup I’ve ever seen down here is the man who made the dragging footprints in the snow.
The first time we saw him I was four years old. Maman had just come home from the hospital and was staying in bed. Papa was spraying the peaches because he didn’t know what else to do. That’s what he said. We couldn’t stay with Papa, and Maman was in a terrible mood, so we went to see if the donkeys were in a good one, which they were. We stayed all day in the low meadow, and late in the afternoon he came. We were sitting under the white mulberry tree, being doctors and nurses. The leaves are big and the tree also had hundreds of white berries. It makes a good hospital but was also useful for hiding. The branches hang very low, close to the ground, so we felt quite safe.
We peered out, watching the stranger like spies. The man was half-hopping as though he had a stone in his shoe, and a red dog was walking by his side. I wasn’t happy about the man but I liked his dog. I could tell it was a kind one, staying with his person like that when he would probably rather have been chasing smells.
Just when I thought they were about to turn and go the dog barked three times, making me jump, and ran over to the mulberry tree. He came straight underneath and nosed us with his wet face. The dog was quite thin and slinky and friendly-looking. His tail was a flapping floppy brush. I wanted to pat the dog, but if it didn’t go away I was sure the man would follow.
Shoo! I whispered, and waved my hands at it.
Buzz off! said Margot, making a cross face.
The dog stepped back from us, sniffing the air, but he didn’t buzz off. Instead he had a snack, eating a few of the lowest mulberries, nipping them straight off the tree. The man’s feet had been still all this time, just standing, pointing towards us, but not moving. Then he bent down to his shoe, maybe looking for the stone, and for a moment he seemed to be looking right at us. I stayed as still as a statue, and closed my eyes to a squint. The man squinted too. His face was very hairy, except above one ear where a big patch of hair was missing and the skin was red-brown like a chestnut. I held my breath, my heart thumping against my ribs. But then he stood up again, his face was gone and he whistled for the dog, who nudged me one last time with his nose then ran back to the man’s heel.
He was here last winter too when the snow came. I was following my footprints from the day before, trying