My imaginary world of books and music grew more important to me as Raoul increasingly took refuge in alcohol. By the age of eight, I was writing my own little melodies, working hard on the notation even after my bedtime. "Gustave, you can work on that in the morning" Mother would tell me with her customary patience. But the notes were in my head now and I needed to get them down on paper before they flew away. Although I always obeyed her as I had been taught, I think she was sometimes a little scared of my need for perfection.

I was always willing to put my music away in order to hear a story, though. I loved the darker fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm just as much as the happier stories of other anthologies. For my 6th birthday, I received a copy of Hans Christian Andersen's Fairy Tales, beautifully bound and illustrated, and this was one of my favourite books. It was perfect for those times when Mother had run out of stories. I could read by myself quite well but I still liked being read to sometimes. Mother and I liked The Ugly Duckling, but the one that gripped me the most was The Snow Queen. Even now, I cannot pass by Andersen collections in a bookstore without sneaking a look at this most wonderful story.

I was entranced by the adventures of brave little Gerda as she travels to the frozen north to rescue her friend Kai from the Snow Queen. Whenever Mother read the section about how they played and talked together under the rose-boxes and I thought of how she and Father had also played together as children. And just like the children in this story listened to the old grandmother, they had had Mother's papa to tell them stories.

"If the Snow Queen had kidnapped Father when he was a little boy, would you have gone and rescued him?" I asked Mother one day.

She laughed softly. "Of course! And I'm sure he would have come for me too! What strange questions you ask…"

I looked through the illustrations, the children in Grandmothers kitchen, or of Gerda sailing down the river, or asking the flowers if they had seen Kai... But it was the picture of the Snow Queen herself that entranced me the most – a mysterious, sinister figure, and yet portrayed by the artist as beautiful.

"I wonder if she was sad?" I mused out loud one day. I was eight at the time and Mother was sitting in the armchair opposite me, doing some embroidery. Grandmother was spending a few weeks with some old friends by the sea and could not interfere or object. The atmosphere was decidedly happier for all three of us whenever she went away. Earlier on, I had finished reading the story yet again and had spent some time thinking about it.

"Who, Gerda?" she asked distractedly.

"No", I replied sadly, "The Snow Queen".

She looked up at me in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Well, after she came home and found that Kai was gone. Perhaps she missed him after he left."

"Gustave, she kidnapped Kai, remember? She took him away from his friends and family".

I thought about this briefly.

"Yes I know, Mother. But maybe she was lonely in her ice palace? After all, she probably didn't have any friends. And when Gerda rescued Kai she was alone again".

I looked up, to see Mother staring at me in amazement. "Yes", she whispered, "Perhaps you're right". She looked deep in thought, as if remembering something…

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I know there were other stories in my childhood, but Andersen's fairy tales became my inspiration.

"What are you doing, dear?" Mother asked me as she came into the sitting room one day, followed closely by Raoul, who was at home for once, and surprisingly sober.

"Writing a song about the Snow Queen" I told her, looking up from the piano, where I had been concentrating hard on getting the notes right.

"Gustave, Prof Chapelle set you some tasks-" Raoul began.

"Oh Raoul, he has worked hard on his lessons today! Let him have a few minutes to play the piano."

Sighing, he walked out of the room and slammed the door. Mother immediately sat down and listened to me play. But I could do nothing other than repeat the same notes over and over, and gave up in frustration.

"You really like that story, don't you?" she asked me softly, when I had turned around to face her.

"Yes, it's my favourite" I told her wistfully. I hummed a melody, searching for inspiration. But try as I might, the music would not come. I scribbled out the notation I had written already. How do you translate the story into music? The falling snow, the sleigh ride, Gerda's panic and sadness… So many ideas and emotions! Such a long story, so much to fit into a song!

"An opera.. " I mused out loud, "It should be an opera."

Then, with sudden passion I turned around again on my piano stool. "Has anyone written an opera about this story, Mother?" I demanded eagerly, "Have they?" She just sat there, stunned.

"I'm not sure.. I-I can find out…"

"It could be wonderful, couldn't it? Can you imagine? All that sadness and joy.. in music. I must write it, I must! Why won't the music come?" I made a clattering noise on the keys, making my mother jump.

With that, she got to her feet.

"That's enough music for today, Gustave. It's a lovely day. Why don't you go outside and play for a while? You can do your lessons for the Professor later."

She seemed a little uneasy, and I have to say, I was surprised at how passionate I felt about my idea. It took me a few moments to calm myself, to bring myself back to the everyday world.

"Yes Mother" I replied dutifully, jumping off the stool and running outside. But my mind was still in the frozen North, with the reindeer running across the snow to the ice palace and a little boy trying to spell out the word "Eternity"...

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Waving my baton, I guided each section, revelling in the sound that each made; the brass, the woodwind and the stringed instruments. Now I was blending their music together, the deep notes and the high notes, each conveying a different emotion. And I could feel the audience behind me, transfixed, enraptured...

"What are you doing?" said a voice behind me, jolting me sharply from my reverie. I looked behind me to see a bewildered looking Louis.

"I was conducting an orchestra" I told him, as if it were obvious.

"Oh... Do you want to play hide and seek?"

"All right. You count and I'll go and hide".

I threw away the branch I had been using as a somewhat unwieldy baton and ran off to find a good hiding place. And for the next few hours, we were just normal little boys.

The evenings were starting to get dark earlier now, and as we set off across the lawn to our respective homes, I could hear Jeanne, Louis' mother, calling him for dinner. No doubt one of the maids, or perhaps one of my parents, would be calling for me soon.

"I have to go in for my dinner now, Gustave" my playmate was telling me, but my eye was drawn back to the forest, where we had been playing earlier. Now it looked mysterious and strange, under the setting sun. I could not simply walk away..

"See you tomorrow..." I murmured distractedly. Louis ran across the park to the gardeners lodge and when he was out of sight, I turned to go back into the forest.

The trees were tightly packed together, making it darker than I had expected. I strolled without hurry, enjoying my impromptu adventure. As darkness fell, I did not feel afraid. Rather, I was excited. I sat under a tree for a long time, listening to the different sounds, feeling the gentle breeze on my face. A shiver ran down my spine. Everything was new and different here, under the cloak of darkness.

But as I looked around, the trees seemed to take on new shapes. Faces.. looking at me in the growing darkness with cruel eyes and distorted features… Suddenly I felt afraid and jumped to my feet. With leaves and twigs crackling beneath my feet, I darted out of the woods and ran as fast as I could towards the chateau.

Raoul was waiting for me in the hall.

"Gustave, you are late for dinner. Go and wash your hands and come to the dining room immediately."

His voice was stern and I obeyed quickly, despite my breathlessness. When I joined my parents at the dining table my mother seemed relieved to see me.

"We were getting worried about you. We saw Louis going into the cottage but there was no sign of you. Where were you?"

"In the forest. It was so peaceful there, with the sun setting. " I replied weakly, becoming a little ashamed at how I had made them both worry. She looked at me curiously but did not say anything.

"You should not be wandering around in the dark. Eat your dinner before it gets cold." Raoul told me sharply. I obeyed him once more, but my mind was still in that dark, enchanted forest, with the trees and their strange eyes that seemed to follow me everywhere…

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I was running through the forest, the trees hemming me in on all sides and they all had faces, mocking and jeering me… The branches were sharp and all were pointing at me, like accusing fingers. And there were footsteps behind me, chasing me... I tried to look around but could only see a shadow, dark and menacing.. As the footsteps grew closer, I saw light up ahead between the trees and ran faster, trying to escape... Suddenly hands were pulling at my shoulders, forcing me to turn around.. The person before me was hideous, a monster, their face scarred and mutilated beyond words...

I screamed but the trees and the shadow had disappeared and I was in my own bedroom, clinging to my sheets in terror. In a moment my mother was running into the room.

"Gustave! Did you have a nightmare, darling?" She hurried to my bedside and put her arms around me.

"Th-there was a monster chasing me through the f-forest.." I stammered, my body trembling. She continued to hold me, trying to soothe me.

"It's all right, angel, it was just a bad dream. There is no-one chasing you; you're safe now."

Slowly my breathing returned to normal and I stopped shaking. With infinite softness, she sang a lullaby to me and laid me back down under the covers. But as she stood, I clung to the hem of her dress.

"What if there's a monster in this room?" I gasped, suddenly afraid again, "I once dreamt there was one under my bed". She sat down on my bed again, holding my hands in hers and looking into my eyes with her gentle gaze.

"Gustave, monsters aren't real," she told me, sighing. "You have such an active imagination, my little prodigy. All those strange ideas inside your head.. But I love you for it, you know that don't you?"

"Yes, and I love you. And – I'm sorry I was late for dinner", I added sheepishly.

At this, Mother smiled and tucked me in carefully. "That's all right, dear. Such a curious boy. But you must tell me or Father where you are going in future, do you hear?"

"Yes Mother, I will"

Now I'll sing a song to give you only nice dreams, shall I?" I nodded gratefully and, lulled by that beautiful voice I soon fell into a pleasant sleep.

Less than two years later I would see that horrible face again, and I would scream just like the first time. Only this time it was not a dream…