- Chapter One -

The Garden Party

Jacqueline Burrows glowered at the old woman and swiftly turned her back on her. She could hear her mother arguing with her grandfather in the garden but that was the least of the ten-year-old's worries. Her long auburn hair was tied up in a neat bun and her green eyes sparkled in the midday sun.

'I told you to get the good ones!' Paula's voice soared through the open kitchen window; Jac rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and picked an apple from the fruit bowl on the table. She bit into the apple; wiping her mouth as the juices rolled down her chin.

'It's hardly my fault they were out of stock!' Jac's grandfather protested. They had been at each other's throats ever since he'd come to stay and Jac had had enough of it. She had homework to do but there was no way she could concentrate whilst all this was going on. And that was without the added irritation of the evening's garden party.

Jac could understand why her mother was having a garden party or even why she was going to so much effort in preparing it. They never had parties before, so why now? Jac shrugged. She knew better than to ask questions, especially when her mother was stressed.

'You'll spoil your supper,' Jac looked over her shoulder at Mrs. MacKenzie, the housekeeper. She smirked and took another bite of the apple.

'Supper's ages away,' she replied. Mrs. Mackenzie paused from wiping the kitchen sideboards.

'I know what you're like Jackie. You'll eat now and later complain that you're full. What will your mother think?'

'I don't care what my mother thinks,' Jac scowled. 'And my name's not Jackie.' She paused, looking out of the kitchen window. Her mother and grandfather had moved away now but she could still hear their voices in the distance. 'Is father coming home?' Mrs. MacKenzie sighed and looked at Jac. Her eyes were tinged with sadness but when she spoke, her voice was as calm and level as it always was.

'I don't know Jackie - Jac sorry, I don't know. You had better ask your mother.'

'Like she'd know,' Jac muttered. She could feel the back of her neck prickling - that was always a danger sign. But she had to keep her temper otherwise her life would not be worth living. Particularly if she spoilt her mother's precious garden party.

'Why don't you go and play with your dolls for a bit?' Jac knew Mrs. Mackenzie meant well but she rounded on her nevertheless.

'I'm ten, not five.'

'Yes, I know - I didn't mean-'

'I'm going to do my homework.' Without waiting for Mrs. Mackenzie to reply, Jac strode out of the kitchen and down the hallway. The stairs echoed as Jac stamped her way up to her bedroom.

Paula laid the silk cream cloth over the oak table, taking care to ensure it wasn't creased. Her father had skulked off to the summer house where she felt sure he was sulking. Probably doing the crossword as well, Paula thought. She glanced at her gold wristwatch. The guests would be arriving in an hour and there was still so much to do. She took a deep breath and bent down to pick up the cutlery from the box she had placed under the table.

'Dammit! Where did I put the-' Paula stood and looked back at the house. There was nothing for it; she would have to go back and get them. You couldn't have a barbecue without the matches to light it. Her eyes focussed on the cutlery. Perhaps it would be best to get the table prepared; they didn't need the matches just yet after all.

Paula had planned this garden party to go off without so much as a single setback if she could help it. Everything was organised and, matches excepting, in its proper place. She crouched down and resumed picking up the cutlery. A knife and fork for every guest and a spoon for dessert.

'Paula?' Paula finished laying the table and swivelled around to see her father standing in front of her. Today's paper was folded and tucked under his right arm.

'What is it?' Henry swallowed.

'What time are they arriving?' Paula groaned but quickly regained her composure and feigned a sweet smile.

'Four-Thirty, I told you yesterday.' She returned to the table, straightening several of the forks so that they were exactly symmetrical with their accompanying knives.

'Right,' Henry said. 'Do you need me to do anything?' Chance would be a fine thing, Paula thought.

'No it's okay, dad,' she said. 'Mrs. MacKenzie and I have it covered. Why don't you see what Jackie's up to?' Henry nodded and sidled away from her, leaving Paula to her organisation. 'No that's not right,' Paula frowned as she took a step back from the table and examined her handiwork. 'That needs to be there and that there and maybe if I just…'

Henry Burrows rapped sharply on Jac's bedroom door. He waited for a response and when none came, he knocked again.

'Who is it?'

'It's your grandfather,' Henry replied. The door opened and Jac appeared in the doorway, dressed in her pyjamas. Her hair was flowing down below her shoulders and a textbook lay open on the floor. 'I'm not disturbing you, am I?' Henry asked as he followed Jac into her room.

'No, I'd just finished,' Jac told him. 'I only had a couple of worksheets to do.'

'That's alright then,' said Henry, smiling broadly at her. 'Your mother said I should talk to you.'

Jac sat down on her bed and folded her arms.

'Did she?'

'You haven't seemed your usual self lately,' Henry explained. 'She's worried about you. We're both worried about you.' Jac pulled a face at him.

'She's only worried about that party.' Henry sat beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

'You know that's not true, Jac.'

'It's all she's talked about for weeks. Nobody cares about her stupid party - I bet nobody turns up anyway!' Henry sighed.

'You're being childish, Jac.' He looked down at one of the worksheets lying on the floor. 'Maths, eh? How'd you find that?'

'It's easy,' Jac told him and she couldn't help grinning. 'It's just common sense and logic really.'

'Is maths your best subject?' Jac nodded and then added:

'Well, I'm pretty good at science too.' Henry picked up the worksheet and glanced through it.

'How long did this take you?'

'About half an hour, I think,' said Jac.

'It's very good. You should be proud of yourself.' Jac's smile faded.

'I wish mum was.' Henry put the worksheet back down and looked directly into Jac's eyes.

'She is proud of you,' he said, his voice soft.

'You're just trying to make me feel better. I see the way she looks at me - like it's my fault.'

'For what?' Jac moved away from her grandfather's embrace and stared down at her feet, bending her toes in the white socks she wore.

'My fault that dad went away.'

'Your dad-' Henry began but the right words were difficult to find. 'He had to go away on business.'

'He's not coming back is he?'

'I don't know. Maybe.'

'He left because I'm too much to handle. I heard them arguing the night before…they both think I'm difficult.' Henry laughed. 'It's not funny!'

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'But name me a ten-year-old who isn't difficult.' Jac forced herself to smile.

'Dad!' Paula's voice soared up the stairs to them. 'Dad they'll be arriving any second! Tell Jackie she'd better be ready.'

'I'll be down in a minute,' Henry called down to her. They heard the unmistakeable sound of Paula stomping out into the garden, the gravel crunching beneath her shoes. 'Listen, Jac. I know your mother's a bit much at times but she does care about you.'

'I know,' Jac mumbled.

'Why don't you get ready and come down when you'll feel up to it?' Henry stood up from the bed and headed over to the door. He turned back and smiled at Jac. 'Just think about it, okay?'

'Okay,' Jac conceded. Henry closed the door behind him and walked down the stairs. He could hear Paula calling for him; Henry shrugged and opened the door to the garden.

The garden party was in full swing now and the barbecue sizzled in the bright summer air. Paula was on her third glass of rosé and the conversation at the table was interspersed with raucous laughter and excited yells. Jac disliked it intensely but she only had another hour or so to suffer through before she could go to bed. The party was turning out to be just as horrid as she had imagined and not even the barbecue had managed to change her mind.

'That's a lovely dress you're wearing, Jackie,' Aunt Mabel told her. Jac pretended to smile appreciatively. She turned her back before Aunt Mabel could corner her further. Jac didn't know why she had to call her Aunt Mabel when she wasn't even related to the family and what was more, she hated that everybody called her Jackie. She preferred Jac and if they had to - Jacqueline was better than Jackie. Average girls were called Jackie and Jac knew she wasn't average.

'Pass Richard the potatoes,' Paula told her. Grimacing, Jac picked up the platter of potatoes and took it to Richard who was sitting at the opposite end of the table.

'Thank you dear,' Richard said in his deep booming voice. 'Marvellous food this.' Jac looked at his portly appearance and tutted under her breath. 'So what are you up to these days, dear?' Jac flinched every time he called her dear. Richard had always been far too familiar.

'Just school,' she told him.

'Ah of course! How old are you now, I don't think I've seen you for a couple years at least?' Jac knew she wasn't going to be able to escape for a while and sat down on the empty chair beside him.

'I'm ten,' she said, taking a chicken leg from the platter in front of her and biting into the meat.

'Ten eh? So that must be year four?'

'Five,' Jac corrected him.

'Blimey,' Richard said. He took a swig of red wine and hiccuped. 'Pardon me.'

'You shouldn't drink so fast,' said Jac. Richard gave a hearty laugh.

'Oh you are a cheeky one, aren't you dear?' He continued to chuckle to himself for a few minutes.

'I've always been told to take my time,' Jac said when Richard had finally stopped laughing.

'When you get to my age, you'll learn that taking your time isn't always an option.' Jac stared at him.

'Why, how old are you?' She asked in surprise.

'Now, now, you mustn't ask how old someone is. It's not polite.' Richard leant across and whispered in her ear. 'I'm fifty-four. Shush. Don't tell anyone.' Jac giggled.

'How do you know my mum?' Richard took another gulp of wine, deliberately swallowing slowly in front of Jac.

'My family have been old friends of yours for - well as long as I can remember!' Richard picked up a potato with his fork and tucked it into his mouth. He chewed for a brief moment and swallowed.

'I should probably get going,' Jac murmured. 'Mum will expect me to help clear up.' Richard nodded.

'It's been lovely catching up with you, Jac.' Jac stopped and gazed back at him in amazement. 'I knew you never liked being called Jackie,' Richard told her.

Jac skipped away from him, grinning from ear to ear. Her eyes twinkled and for the first time that evening, she felt truly happy.

The table was cleared and the guests were dancing and laughing in the patch of garden Paula had prepared earlier. Jac could see Richard performing an interesting sort of waltz with his wife, Sylvia and in the corner of her eye, Paula was swaying to the music on her own. Jac turned away from them, strolling along the garden by herself.

'Don't go too far!' Jac heard her mother calling but she paid it no attention. She needed time to herself and far away from the party.

Jac wandered through the mess of weeds and undergrowth that lay at the back of their garden. She hadn't been through here for a while but she could still see where she had trampled through the last time.

The willow tree stood tall and proud in front of her and Jac scrambled up the branches until she found her favourite spot. She could see the party in the distance and it made her feel slightly superior as she looked down on them. No one would find her here. She doubted whether her mother even knew the willow tree was down here.

Jac glanced at the hem of her dress - she knew climbing up the tree would have scuffed it but she didn't care. Her mother would undoubtedly shout at her about it tomorrow but right now, Jac just enjoyed being on top of the world. She felt safe up here as though no one could touch her.

The sun had begun to set and before long, Jac would have to climb down and go to bed. She still had another half an hour, Jac thought. She dangled her legs over the edge of the branch, taking care to hold on to the tree trunk for support. The last thing she needed was for her to fall and give her mother more ammunition.

'Pssst.' Jac frowned, looking around for the source of the noise. 'Pssst,' it said again. Jac's heart was racing - nothing had ever found her here before.

'Who are you?' Jac whispered. Her voice trembled but she was determined to keep as calm as she could.

'Come down,' the voice was high-pitched and had a husky edge to it. Jac began to climb down to the next branch and then stopped.

'Why should I come down?' She asked. 'Why don't you come to me?'

'I can't climb like you can,' the voice explained.

'Okay,' Jac said.

Paula let out a deep breath as she said goodbye to the last of her guests. Henry had already gone up to bed but there was no sign of Jac anywhere. Paula assumed she must have snuck off to bed without any of them seeing her. She frowned. She didn't like how sneaky Jac could be when she wanted.

Paula locked the conservatory door behind her and headed up the stairs to bed. Jac's bedroom door was closed and the light was off; she was obviously asleep, Paula thought. The party must have tired her out. Paula wasn't surprised - she was looking forwards to rolling into bed herself.

She closed her bedroom door behind her kicked off her shoes. She yawned as she walked over to the closet and picked out her nightie. Henry was snoring in the room opposite.

Jac was on the ground again. She looked over at the house - all the lights were off and everything was quiet. They hadn't forgotten about her, had they? Jac shook her head. She had to find whoever that voice had belonged to.

'Where are you?' Jac asked. She heard a scurrying behind the tree and chased after it; the hem of her dress caught on a bramble and tore. 'Hey, wait up!' Jac called out. 'You told me to come down.'

The scurrying led away from the tree; Jac followed it. She was being led somewhere but Jac had no idea where. All she knew was that something had spoken to her and she wanted to see who it was. Was it someone playing some kind of trick on her? Jac shook her head. People didn't scurry. Mice scurried. Jac squeezed through a gap in the hedge. Mice didn't talk either.

'Please wait!' But whoever it was didn't wait. They kept on scurrying and Jac found herself following before she could help it.

'Be quick, Miss Jac.' Jac quickened her pace and broke through the tangle of stinging nettles. She winced as several of the nettle leaves made contact with her skin and attacked. The familiar white marks appeared on her arms and legs but Jac kept walking as fast as she could. 'Down here.'

'Down where?' Jac looked all around, lost her footing and slipped. She slid down the hill and fell flat on her face at the bottom. She picked herself up; her dress was ruined and Jac knew her mother would kill her. If she ever managed to get back home that was.

'You okay?' Jac stared down at her feet. A white mouse was standing on its hind legs and looking up at her with twinkling grey eyes. It was also wearing a buttoned up scarlet coat. She blinked. She had to be imagining this - Mice did not speak. It simply wasn't possible. 'I asked if you were okay?' Jac froze. The mouse had definitely spoken - she had seen its mouth open and close. She nodded. 'Good!' The mouse declared. Jac could have sworn its mouth spread into a broad smile. 'Follow me.'

But Jac didn't follow. This was completely insane. There was no way she was going to follow a talking mouse into wherever it was going.

'Come on!' The mouse shouted. 'We must be quick!'

'Why?' Jac had found her voice at last. It came out of her like a tiny squeak.

'Or else the Queen will catch us!' The mouse shuddered as it spoke. 'You don't want the Queen to find you. Oh no, no, no, no.'

'The Queen doesn't have any real power,' Jac told the mouse and she laughed but stopped when she caught sight of the mouse's exasperated glare.

'No, not your Queen,' it explained. 'Our Queen. The Queen of Hearts!'

'The Queen of what?" Jac exclaimed!

'Of Hearts, Miss Jac! Now quickly please, follow me. We must get to safety.' Before Jac could protest, the mouse was already scurrying away and she had no choice but to follow. She didn't like the sound of this 'Queen of Hearts,' whoever she might be.

Paula woke with a start. Something had been plaguing on her mind in her sleep and she felt a sudden need to check on Jac. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until she had made sure that Jac was safely tucked up in her bed.

Henry's snoring had finally ceased - he had drifted into a deeper sleep and Paula had been glad of the quiet. But before she had been able to just concentrate on her annoyance of Henry's various noises. Now, however she had nothing to think about but the fact she hadn't seen Jac since she had wandered off in the garden.

She climbed out of bed and walked over to the door, pushing it open slowly so that it wouldn't creak and wake Henry up. Paula tiptoed into the hallway towards Jac's bedroom. She pushed open the door and switched on the light. Jac's bed was empty and there was no sign that it had even be slept in since the previous night. Paula's heart dropped like a stone and she knocked sharply on Henry's door.

'Dad!' There was no answer. 'Dad wake up!' She opened the door and bathed his bedroom in bright white light. Henry opened his eyes groggily.

'What's the matter, Paula?' He looked over at his alarm clock. 'It's one o'clock in the morning, what're you doing up?'

'Jac's missing.' Henry sat up in his bed.

'What?'

'Jac hasn't been in all night,' Paula hissed. 'Her bed's empty and there's no sign of her.' Henry grimaced as he climbed out of bed.

Jac followed the mouse into what appeared to be some kind of small den. She felt sure that she could not possibly fit inside it but as she moved her front foot forward, Jac seemed to shrink until she was the same height as the mouse and she fitted easily in the den.

'Would you like some soup?' Another mouse was busying itself in the kitchen and stirring what appeared to be a pot of tomato soup. 'I made it fresh this afternoon.'

'I'm sorry,' Jac began. 'But who are you?' The mouse that had led her here, took off its coat and hung it up on a stand beside the door.

'I am Amelia and this is my husband, Timothy.' Amelia pointed a grubby paw at Timothy who gave the soup another stir. 'And we know who you are.'

'Who am I?'

'You're our saviour,' Amelia said and she smiled. 'Now, I really think you should have some soup. You must be frozen.' Jac shivered and after a moment's consideration, she nodded.

Amelia led her through a small doorway into the dining room. Three bowls had already been laid out with tiny soup spoons next to them. The bowls were a cream china embroidered with gold leaf.

'After you,' Amelia said and pointed at Jac's space in the middle. Jac sat down; it surprised her to see that her legs didn't touch the floor. Amelia scurried up to take her place as head of the table. 'You'll enjoy this,' she told Jac. 'Timothy is a dab hand at soup.'

Timothy appeared shortly after this, carrying the pot of soup and a ladle. He poured copious amounts into each bowl and, after placing the pot down on the heatproof mat, he sat at the other end of the table and picked up his spoon.

'Now, now, Timothy,' Amelia warned him. 'You mustn't forget your manners.'

'Of course not, honey,' Timothy said and Jac was surprised at how soft his voice was. It was a marked difference from the husky tones that Amelia spoke in. 'Shall I say a few words?'

'We usually do, don't we, Timothy?' Timothy cleared his throat.

'For what we are about to receive, may the Lord of Wonder make us truly grateful.' There was a brief silence. 'Go on then,' Timothy said to Jac. 'Tuck in!'

Jac dipped her spoon into the smoking hot soup and touched it to her lips. She swallowed and a wave of warmth washed over her. She had never tasted anything so good in her life.

'Told you he was good,' Amelia chuckled. A sudden thought struck Jac.

'Excuse me?' She asked.

'Yes, Miss Jac?'

'Where am I?' Amelia swallowed a mouthful of soup and clapped her paws together.

'Why, you are in Wonderland!'

8