That evening, as I sat hunched over my desk, I turned the small pocket-watch in my fingers for what felt like the umpteenth time. I could not discover its secret. Both hands were stuck at five o'clock and I could only think of tea time.

I wondered at the strange cat I had met. My aunt did not allow me to venture out after dinner, saying I would get my stockings wet and catch a chill. I for one did not believe in chills. If I was confident enough, I would be alright. I wanted to recount to my aunt my meeting with the cat but she mayhaps wouldn't have thought much of it. She always told me "nothing can surprise me anymore, Alice dear. I have lived to see many things." Had she lived to see talking cats? Who knew?

At supper, we were joined by my cousin, Aunt Cecily's son Arthur. He was three and twenty and he was a clerk in town, working to become an attorney I gathered. He brought news from a Lady Strabon and informed us we were invited to dine with her the following afternoon. Arthur was the apprentice of Lady Strabon's lawyer, I understood.

She was a fine lady, a considerably rich one and she had found out about our little abode and how my widow aunt spent her days alone with me and how her luckless son worked hard in town.

'Alice, you will wear that nice new gown I bought you,' my aunt opinionated. 'We should be very grateful to this Lady Strabon for we have not had the chance to visit town so much and dear Alice you need some entertainment. You sit up there all day, cooped up with your letters, it must be rather mundane for you.'

I had always lived in the countryside, therefore her assumptions were wrong but I let her believe what she wanted. Arthur told me more about this lady in private. She was a very beautiful, proud woman. He also mentioned she had a red shock of hair, so red that he thought at first it was a fiery flame. I revelled at this imagery and I curiously wished to see her.

I was thinking of her as well as I sat hunched over my desk. I was thinking of many things and the thoughts tumbled and jarred in my head like broken pieces of glass. The clatter was a nuisance.

Before long, I put myself to bed, but before I closed my eyes I saw a shadow passing my eyes. The bright pair of yellow eyes bore into mine and I saw the great, big cat sitting pointedly on a chair nearby, watching me.

'Hello there...' I spoke meekly.

'Alice,' he purred. 'Are you already asleep?'

'Not quite.'

'I have come to talk some more, for we broke our conversation so impudently this noon.'

'Please tell me, cat, am I really having what they call visions?'

'Certainly not. You would be in Bedlam by now.'

'Maybe I am a stealth mad woman.'

'There is no such thing as a subtle mad woman. You would have been locked up by now and the key would have been thrown in the sea. As such, you are very much sane.'

'But how can I be sure?'

'Well, that's your proof! If ever you were certain of something that would mean you truly are insane.'

'It seems like a good measure,' I replied pensively.

'I am certain you are Alice, therefore I am mad,' he said. 'But being mad, my girl, is not a deficiency. No, often it is an advancement of nature. You shall see it once more if ever you come back to Wonderland.'

'Did you not say you are the keeper and therefore will not allow me to pass?'

'It is true. But you could. You did it before. I would mind at the beginning, but then I would forget about it. Though, I must admit, ever since you came through the barrier, I've found my job harder and harder.'

I rose slightly and supported my weight in one elbow.

'How do you mean?'

'Well, now that they've discovered there's a passage between the two worlds, now that they've discovered there is another world, they all want to see it and some want to be part of reality for good.'

'Who are they?' I asked puzzled.

'The inhabitants of Wonderland of course! For a bright girl you sure are daft, Alice. Daft as the dormouse.'

'Who?'

'The Dormouse. Oh, he is a very funny fellow. Always has a nightmare of waking up without ears. And he says it is a premonition that I want to eat them. How distasteful! As if I would ever touch such a thing. I could only eat the white roses.'

'The white roses?' I echoed more and more confused.

'Oh, yes,' the cat said licking its teeth slowly. 'The Queen of Hearts you see, paints the roses not only out of preference but also because she fears my power. If I feast on many white roses I might grow too much. But I have enough white roses in the Rosaria Land. It is somewhere in the north-handkerchief of Wonderland.'

'North-handkerchief?' I inquired. 'What kind of direction is that?'

'Well, if you blow your nose in a handkerchief to the north, you will be taken there. But you must be very precise. And you must sit on the leaf of an Eucalyptus while doing it. It can be troublesome.'

I shook my head confused.

'You live in a mad world, no wonder you are mad! Yet it is an interesting place. How could I have forgotten it?!'

'Little girls are always apt to forget. Just like little Mandriella.'

'Mandriella?'

'Yes. The White Queen had a daughter once, but the daughter forgot her meaning in life, that she was the White Queen's daughter so she turned into another object and the White Queen is still trying to guess what object she is.'

'White Queen...the Queen of Hearts...how many queens are there?'

'Just these two, Alice and another one that I do not usually speak of. But I heard of a prophecy talking of a fourth. Only rubbish, I gather. But it is not right for you to hear this! Lest you would want to be queen yourself!'

'Believe me I would not want such a thing. I am happy with my lot in life,' I confessed smiling.

'Well, I should be off now. I put the March Hare in my place tonight, to watch over the barrier and I fear he is going to panic if I do not join him. Then we'll both sleep.'

'Sleep!? How is that effective for guarding a barrier?'

'Silly, silly girl,' the cat chided me, shaking his furry head. 'When we sleep, our nightmares turn to life and since they are to terrifying they keep all strangers away.'

I nodded my head absently and yawned.

'Cat, dear, can I ask you a question before I fall asleep?'

He nodded roughly.

'My father...you see he died six years ago. I was wondering...is he in Wonderland as well?'

But the Cheshire cat simply threw me a disgusted look and flew off into...nothingness. I realized later I had forgotten to ask about the pocket-watch.

The following day was a rainy, murky one and all I wished to do was to stay in but my aunt insisted we visit Lady Strabon promptly. She strapped me in the uncomfortable dress, with the hard corset and girdle and wrapped me in two shawls and a large overcoat. Then we descended to the carriage to take us to town. I felt like a stuffed phaesant. And I wished to breathe. Was that simple act obsolete among ladies?

When we stepped out in front of the Strabon household we were met with an ogling sight. Their manor was indeed grand and the gardens were full of red roses that smelt so fresh and invigorating that I suddenly cheered up even if the sky was grey. I even wondered how they looked so pretty in dismal weather. The three storeys the house encompassed were lit by tall case windows wrought with ivory. I felt this was an old, ancient home full of secrets.

However, when we stepped inside it was a different matter. Nothing was old or sacred or even remotely interesting. It was decorated in an extravagant exotic way that did not attract me.

I spent my silent moments thinking of how I would change this house and make it my own palace of wonder. Not Wonderland though. I could never achieve that.

When Lady Strabon made her appearance we all held our breaths. She came in all her might, stamping her small feet with every step, her fair, fiery hair sparkling indeed with sun beams. Her face was as white as the grave and she inspected us with her monocle several minutes before choosing to speak. She strutted in a most unconventional way. Perhaps it was because of the sound that a large set of keys tied to her waist made.

She was a fine lady altogether. Her green satin dress frowned and twisted with every of her movement, like it had a mind of its own. I suddenly thought of how it would be for my own garments to walk and dance and talk. I would be much happier without them.

She greeted us cordially enough but I could sense the arrogance and superiority in her tone, not only of state but of manner.

I wasn't a very polite girl so I stared a great deal at her which made her blush.

'This fair girl, is she yours Mrs. Patson?' she asked my aunt.

'Oh, no my Lady. She is a Kingsley, like my poor deceased brother. She is my beloved niece. I am sure Arthur told you so.'

'I must have forgotten,' she said uninterested as she played with her saucer. 'Kingsley then. The daughter of Kingsley. A tradesman?'

'Yes my Lady. A very fine man, generous and kind and very hard working indeed.'

'What of the mother?'

'Oh she is an angel. She bore his death like a true martyr though she depended on him for everything and felt the greatest pain...'

'That is no good for a woman indeed, to be so weak of heart. Two of my sons died before they could learn how to walk but I was brave enough to make others,' she said blatantly and for a moment there I could not stand her.

'Certainly, my Lady, my sister-in-law did not have your fortitude,' my aunt replied modestly.

'And why is she here with you, pray?'

'Well, Alice has always lived in the countryside but now that she is a young lady herself her mother sent her to me so I could show her more of town and worldly affairs.'

My aunt blushed as she told this, for I knew it was a lie. My poor father had left so many debts that even after six years my mother and brothers were struggling. Since I was the only girl of the family they sent me off to my kind aunt. Poverty had stricken my poor home and they wanted to shelter me from it. I resented this protection and each and every day I wanted to return home, for I felt futile here, without aiding my loved ones.

My mother often wrote in her letters that the only way I could help was through marriage and that marriage of a considerable advantage.

'What lovely gardens you possess, my Lady. Very fine and well kempt,' my aunt praised them laboriously.

'Yes, I have always indulged in gardening and I am most partial to flowers. I have a vast garden of roses. They are my comfort whenever my spirits dampen from my husband's many departures. Yet I must declare, I have walked through town and seen the more respectable dwellings and red roses weren't much in favour with them. One lady proclaimed to grow white ones. White roses! Well, what a sordid thing indeed! White roses belong only in cemeteries.'

I peeked at her curious, my thoughts driven back to what the cat had told me of the Queen of Hearts. I stifled a giggle and told myself "if only you, dear cat, knew that women and men are alike everywhere."

And then, as if by magic, a thought, whispered by the cat itself, rang in my mind.

Alice, you are a keen observer but you fail to observe yourself.