Beatrice’s eyes were so full of tears that at first she couldn’t understand why her vision began to sparkle. But then she looked up and saw the Tiger of Stars stretched out upon the carousel platform above her. She leapt to her feet and the next moment he padded down the steps, reared up onto his hind legs and placed his huge paws on Beatrice’s shoulders. Her hood fell back as she looked up at the tiger. He stood a head taller than her, and there was such absolute wildness in his eyes that a person could be forgiven for fearing he might rip out their throat with a single swipe. But Beatrice wasn’t afraid and raised her arms to wrap them tightly around the beast’s body, hugging him close, delighting at the huff of his breath in her ear and the icy diamond-fire smell of him. He was as cold as space, but Beatrice did not shiver as she blinked the tears from her eyes and ran her hands down his galaxy stripes.

‘Hello, my old friend,’ she whispered.

They stood like that for a few moments more before the tiger returned to all fours. Beatrice gazed at the letter in her hand and took in the pictures in the margin. She saw that her mother had sketched fairies in fur coats, and frogs in golden crowns, a tiger made of stars and a beautiful lady wearing a crown and a cobwebbed gown.

I wish I could have left you with a special place that you could go to watch the fairies dance, and talk with the Spider Queen, and taste magic, and be truly yourself …

‘My mother’s wish brought this place to life,’ she said softly.

Finally she understood why she had been the first visitor, and why she was the only person the tiger would allow to touch him. It was wondrous and the letter made her so happy and yet, at the same time, so very sad. Her whole life she had believed that her mother was the only person who’d understood her completely, yet if she had thought marriage and children could ever make Beatrice happy, this letter proved that not to be so.

But perhaps it was not possible ever to truly understand another human being. You were forever looking at them through the prism of your own experience. And all that really mattered was that she had not wounded her mother as grievously as she had always believed. Her mama had died knowing she was loved.