Interlude two- Madness- Monday 26th January 2004

She struggled out of bed and stumbled across her filthy bedroom, fumbling for the light-switch. It had been quite a while since she had last thought about magic. Loud, rumbling snores echoed throughout the early morning, giving the song-birds some competition. It must have been either one of her house-mates or a particularly resonant next-door neighbour.

Jo scraped a piece of mussed-up hair from her face and wiped the yellow goo from the corners of her eyes. She needed a drink.

Flicking the light off again, Jo left her bedroom and crept down the dark staircase in her red pyjamas. The old wooden steps creaked and groaned at various intervals. Using the walls to guide her, she navigated her way through the cluttered hallway and arrived in the kitchen. Inside was so filthy that Jo could feel the dirt beneath her toes whilst standing on the cold, yellowed tiles.

The fridge door opened with a squeak and the usual hum filled the room. Jo looked inside hopefully. After examining the date on the milk carton, Jo put it back hastily. Somebody’s half-eaten dinner festered on one of the shelves and there was a ball of green fuzz where there once had been cheese. Two cans of Foster’s were tucked in the door. Jo immediately grabbed one of them and snapped open the lid.

Despite tasting similar to urine, the larger slipped down her throat easily. Leaving the kitchen, can-in-hand, she made her way into the lounge. It was a medium-sized room with a couple of squashy sofas and a big table. Glancing across the polished wooden surface, Jo could see hundreds of empty glass bottles, a decrepit-looking computer and a large top-hat with a red ribbon.

Jo’s stomach gave a jolt. She had to get out of this house, and fast. Pulling on a pair of boots, she bolted out of the front door.

By the time she had stopped running, Jo had reached the park. Something about the twittering birds and vibrant flora made her stop. This was stupid, she thought angrily. She was eighteen years old and running about the town like a madwoman, all because she had seen a top-hat which could have belonged to anybody.

She sat down on a wooden bench to try and figure out what the hell she was doing. It was half-past five in the morning and nobody else was in the park. She was wearing her pyjamas and a pair of knee-high boots. She had woken from an absurd dream, come across a hat which bore a high resemblance to one she had seen many years ago, and fled.

This was all madness. There was no magic, none of it had ever happened. Maddie was long dead and Jo was now sharing a house with four other students of her own age. Sighing, Jo ran her fingers through her short, wavy hair. There was one place she would visit before she went home again.

She marched along streets and through subways until she came upon the old church, surrounded by its crumbling wall of stone. The great chestnut tree stood over the cemetery, illuminated against the sunrise. Jo entered through a gate and wove around white angels, tall crosses and spiked railings. The morning dew splashed up the sides of her boots and the world felt fresh and clean. With this in mind, Jo made her way towards the tree. Lying in its leafy presence was Maddie’s grave.