Mr Gum and the Cherry Tree. Andy Stanton

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      ‘Ooh,’ said the schoolchildren, ‘it’s scary in here.’

      ‘That’s because of the ancient spirits,’ whispered Friday. ‘This place is full of them. Enormous phantoms as small as your finger! And a phone that rings and when you answer it’s ghosts! And a witch who lives in a pine cone and –’

      Alan Taylor blew his silver Teaching Whistle sharply. ‘Settle down, children,’ he said. ‘And enough of your tall tales, Friday. It’s only a forest.’

      But even so, it was a pretty spooky place. The only sounds were the rustling of the leaves and the soft sighing of the wind. The glooming trees crowded all around, making Polly shiver and Friday’s hat whimper in fear. And the schoolchildren clutched at each other, half in terror and half in glee as they remembered Friday’s stories of ancient spirits and forest folk.

      Deeper they went into that forest, listening to the sounds. The sounds of the forest.

      Whooooooosh.

      Swiiiiishhhhhh

      Sooooounnnds.

      The woodpeckers pecked and the wouldn’tpeckers didn’t. A ladybird sang a mournful song on her guitar. A dandelion chased a dandezebra through the undergrowth. And the path before them twisted and turned through the haunting trees like some sort of big curly superfinger, beckoning, beckoning them on.

      At last they rounded a bend and came to an archway formed by two low branches. Two low branches all covered in roses. And beneath those curving branches stood Old Granny and her crowd, as solemn as calculators.

      ‘Here we are,’ whispered Old Granny, and the leaves and trees seemed to whisper it back –

       Here we are, here we are, here we are . . .

      ‘Our journey is at an end,’ she whispered, and the leaves and trees seemed to whisper it back –

       At an end, at an end, at an end . . .

      ‘My leg hurts,’ complained Martin Launderette, and the leaves and trees seemed to whisper it back –

       Stop complaining, stop complaining, stop complaining. No one cares about your stupid leg, you cry-baby, cry-baby, cry-baby . . .

      ‘This is where it all happened,’ said Old Granny, once the leaves and trees had shut up. ‘This is where I heard him.’

      ‘Heard who?’ asked the little girl called Peter.

      But Old Granny had already ducked through the flowery archway. ‘Follow me,’ she cried. ‘Follow me and see for yourselves!’

       Chapter 3 Who Went Through the Arch?

      Here’s who went through the arch that morning:

      First was Old Granny, then Martin Launderette, then the little girl called Peter, a little boy called Rita and a baby called Elsie Wa-Wa. Then a really, really tall bloke called Harry Extreemoleg, then Thora Gruntwinkle with Greasy Ian and their pet monkey Philip the Horror, and then Jonathan Ripples, who got stuck in the archway and had to quickly go on a diet for ten minutes until he’d lost enough weight to squeeze through. Then came David Casserole (the Town Mayor), followed by Charlotte Casserole (his beautiful wife) and Frank Casserole (his beautiful husband). Next was Beany McLeany, wearing a bikini and reading a magaziney. After him came Pamela, Pamela, Pamela, Pamela, Pamela, Pamela, Pamela, Pamela, Pamela and Pamela – or ‘The Pamelas’ as they were known for short. Then came another Pamela who didn’t count with the other Pamelas, because none of them liked her.

      Then came a superhero called the Yellow Wriggler, who caught criminals by crawling along the ground dressed as a banana and shouting at them. After him came an illusionist called the Prince of Illusions. And after him came the Prince of Illusions again.

      ‘Ha ha!’ said the Prince of Illusions. ‘The first time I went through the arch it was just an ILLUSION!’

      Then came a few other people I can’t be bothered to tell you about, then a couple more and then a couple more. And after them came the heroes – Polly, Friday and Alan Taylor, along with his class of giggling schoolchildren.

      And finally came Crazy Barry Fungus, hopping along in his silver birdcage and tweeting like a chaffinch. ‘Tweet! Tweet!’ said Barry Fungus. ‘Tweet! Tweet! Wait for me! Wait for me!’

       Chapter 4 Who Didn’t Go Through the Arch?

      Everyone else in the world.

      And also the Prince of Illusions.

      ‘Ha ha!’ said the Prince of Illusions. ‘The second time I went through the arch it was just another ILLUSION! I haven’t gone through the arch at all and I never will. Goodbye!’

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