“I’m not sure,” said Jean, “he seems all right now. But he was frightened when I came in.”
“I wasn’t frightened, Mummy,” came a small, indignant voice. “But it was such a strange place.”
“What was?” asked George. “Tell me all about it.”
“There were mountains,” said Jeff dreamily. “They were ever so high and there was no snow on them, like on all the mountains I’ve ever seen. Some of them were burning.”
“You mean — volcanoes?”
“Not really. They were burning all over, with funny blue flames. And while I was watching, the sun came up.”
“Go on — why have you stopped?” Jeff turned puzzled eyes towards his father.
“That’s the other thing I don’t understand, Daddy. It came up so quickly, and it was much too big. And — it wasn’t the right colour. It was such a pretty blue.” There was a long, heart-freezing silence. Then George said quietly, “Is that all?”
“Yes. I began to feel kind of lonely, and that’s when Mummy came and woke me up.” George tousled his son’s untidy hair with one hand, while tightening his dressing-gown around him with the other. He felt suddenly very cold and very small. But there was no hint of this in his voice when he spoke to Jeff.
“It’s just a silly dream: you’ve eaten too much for supper. Forget all about it and go back to sleep, there’s a good boy.”