It was Peter’s first grown-up dinner at Brinkbonnie and for the first ten minutes he was so excited to be there, at the table between Aunt Alice and his mother, that nothing else mattered. The disappointment came slowly. He had expected a special attention from Alice, a conspiratorial joy in his achievement at persuading his parents to allow him to stay up. He had thought she would listen to his jokes. But throughout the meal she was distant and preoccupied and he wondered if he had offended her in some way. He became nervous and knocked over his mother’s wine with his elbow.

“Peter,” his mother said. “ If you can’t sit still, you’ll have to go to bed like the twins.”

Then he looked to Alice for her customary support, but she seemed hardly to have noticed the incident, and there was none of the laughter, the assurance that it was only an accident and really did not matter, which he might have expected.

At the end of the meal he sat sullen and silent. He had looked forward to this weekend for months and now it was all spoiled.

Immediately after the meal he was sent to bed. He had a room near the top of the Tower that he shared with the twins. His brothers were asleep in their cots snuffling and snoring. The strong winds had blown the storm over and the rain had stopped, but the wind was still fierce and it was cold. The noise was deafening. The gale blew around the old stonework and through the trees behind the house. Night had come suddenly and it was dark. Peter thought it was very exciting. His mother pulled his sleeping bag around him and sat on the bed to kiss him. This attention was unusual. At home she was always in a hurry to clear up before going to a meeting or running a class and there was only time for a quick story. Now she sat close to him and waited in the dark and noisy room.

“Mum,” he whispered, hoping to keep her there. “ What’s wrong with Aunt Alice?”

“Wrong?” she said. “ Nothing’s wrong. What do you mean?”

“She didn’t talk to me,” he said. “And she didn’t say anything about the treasure hunt. She always does a treasure hunt on the first night.”

Judy laughed. “ She has more important things to think about than you children,” she said. She began to stroke his forehead. “Besides, there might be a treasure hunt tomorrow.”

“No,” he said, quite certain. “ It’s always on the first night.”

“Oh, well,” she said easily. “ I expect there’ll be other treats.” She stood up. “ Will you be all right?” she asked. “With all this wind?”

“Yes,” he said. “I like it. I’m never scared at Brinkbonnie.”