Beatrice knew that Rosa would also be experiencing all the admiration and respect and regard that Beatrice had for her; that she would feel how Rosa had inspired her to be a better, stronger, more confident person than she’d ever dreamed of being before.

Finally the looking glass righted itself again and the two women had no one’s thoughts or views inside their heads but their own. For a moment there was only a deep, frozen silence before Beatrice bent to replace the frog carefully at the edge of the pond.

‘Incredible,’ Rosa breathed. She looked pleased, and a little embarrassed. ‘I hope I can be half the person you believe me to be. What an extraordinary frog.’

‘There is m-much m-more to sh-show you,’ Beatrice promised. ‘But l-let’s take t-tea first.’

They returned to the house, where the housekeeper had left a tray in the study. After pouring the tea, Beatrice felt she had to acknowledge Rosa’s loss in some way, so she took a deep breath and said, ‘I am s-so s-s-sorry.’ It was impossible not to wince at how inadequate the words were. ‘About your d-daughter.’

Rosa managed a weak smile. ‘Yes, I know,’ she said. ‘Everyone is dreadfully sorry. But that doesn’t help me in any way. It does not bring Esme back. It does not seal up the place where my soul has been ripped in half.’ She met Beatrice’s gaze and said softly, ‘It has undone me, Beatrice. That is the truth. In fact the old me has died. I’m someone else now altogether. That is why I have been feeling so strange, I think – I am no longer me at all.’

Beatrice nodded. She knew how it felt to be ravaged by grief but she could not think what to say, so she echoed the Spider Queen’s words from all those years ago. ‘L-life needs d-dark l-leaves in the w-wreath.’

The thought took her back and suddenly Beatrice was a small girl again, there in the frosted haven of the magical Winter Garden. It was her fourth night of visiting, but she was still discovering new things and tonight she had come across a red-brick wall hung with wreaths.

For long moments, Beatrice stood and admired the summer colour bursts of scented stocks and radiant sunflowers, the tiny white flowers of gypsophila, the delicate sweet peas and violet-blue cornflowers. And there were winter flowers too: an abundance of sunshine-yellow winter aconites, pale-purple cyclamens, star-shaped jasmine and the pink cup-shaped blooms of Japanese quince.

‘Lovely, aren’t they?’ the Spider Queen said beside her. ‘Each one represents a person’s life. The good times and the bad.’ She glanced at Beatrice and went on, ‘If you’re like most people, then I expect you were drawn to the flowers, but I have always thought the foliage more striking.’

She stepped closer and ran her fingers gently over the greenery.