For Maia

The Minimice had explained very carefully to the Writer exactly where it was that they wanted to go and now stood anxiously watching her as she typed.

Michael Minimouse had offered to pedal the computer for her. The Writer was pleased about this, as she said that pedalling at the same time as writing was not easy, even if it did keep you fit.

‘I’m just getting to the end of the paragraph that sends you back,’ announced the Writer after a few more moments. ‘I think you should hold paws just to be on the safe side. We don’t want anyone left behind.’

‘I do feel a little bit odd,’ said Milly Minimouse, twitching her whiskers.

‘Mmmm,’ said the Writer sympathetically. ‘It’s because you’re fading out. It always takes people that way. Sorry, mice, I mean. Hold on!’

And suddenly there was a WHOOSH! The Minimice found themselves back in the attic of the Doll’s House at Hildegard’s cottage.


Unfortunately there too, hanging on like mad to Moley’s tale, was Clorabella. And there was something terribly wrong with her…

She was the size of a Minimouse.



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