Beatrice stared back at it for some time, believing it to be a last remaining fragment of her opium dream. But the minutes and the hours stretched slowly by and the frog didn’t move, or fade from existence. It only sat there, looking at her and waiting. Finally she sat up and reached a hand out towards it. The frog immediately dropped the invitation into her palm and then jumped from the bed, hopping across the room and squeezing through the gap beneath the door.

Beatrice scrambled after it, her heart bursting with hope, already imagining a trail of dancing golden mushrooms, but when she threw open the door the corridor remained still and dark. There was no sign of the frog, either. Beatrice closed the door and went to the window, to be faced with another disappointment.

No lanterns flickered upon the lawn, no fairies fluttered through the dark silk of the night sky, and the winter picnics didn’t offer up delicious scents of savoury pies and sweet jam puffs. Beatrice looked back down at the card in her hands. Suddenly she worried that perhaps it would be a reprimand. Perhaps the Spider Queen was angry with her for searching for the garden. She broke the seal and drew out the letter. She saw that it was, in fact, an invitation, only of a very different type from that which she had been sent before:

Dear Beatrice,

You are invited to enter an unusual competition.

I am looking for the most magical, spectacular, remarkable pleasure garden this world has to offer. A garden that brings wonder and amazement to people’s lives.

The winner will be picked at the end of next year, upon New Year’s Eve.

They will be required to give up the most wondrous part of their garden. In return, the prize will be one wish – from the last of the Winter Garden’s magic.

Yours sincerely,

The Spider Queen

Beatrice gazed at the letter. The last of the garden’s magic? What could that mean? It had never occurred to her for a moment that the garden would ever be any less wondrous than when she had seen it. The thought made her feel profoundly sad. And yet … what a prize on offer! She knew at once what she would wish for. She would go back to that dreadful day at Half Moon House and do it all differently. She would wish that she had had the courage to say goodbye to her mother when she had the chance.

A golden glow of hope warmed her body and made the ends of her fingers tingle. Surely she already had a head start, with all the discoveries she had made? How could anyone else’s garden possibly compete? And, best of all, she had an entire year to get everything ready.

CHAPTER NINETEEN