Sam left the candles burning for them because he remembered only too well being afraid of the dark, and then locked the door to the outside corridor. He wedged a chair under the handle just in case, and to offer some reassurance to the children that he believed their fears.
Sam gave them one last wave and then went in search of Tristan and the others. He pulled the door to a little, but left it open as he had promised, and turned to face them. Alfie, ever the dandy, appeared bored as he leaned against the fireplace, but Sam wasn’t fooled. Gareth sat on a chair looking wary, and Tristan. Tristan was curiously unreadable.
“I think they are quite settled,” Sam said, postponing the arguments that he knew were about to come.
“What time is it?” Tristan surprised him by asking.
“One thirty,”
