Gawain and Twyla, who'd been named by people who apparently loved them, had been put to bed by the time Susan  got in, at their own insistence. It's a widely held belief at a certain age that going to bed early makes tomorrow come faster.

     She  went  to tidy  up  the  schoolroom  and  get things ready for  the morning, and began to pick up the things the children had left lying around. Then something tapped at a window pane.

     She peered out at the darkness,  and then opened the window. A drift of snow fell down outside.

     In the summer the  window opened into the branches of a cherry tree. In the winter dark, they were little grey fines where  the snow had settled  on them.

     'Who's that?' said Susan.

     Something hopped through the frozen branches.

     'Tweet tweet tweet, would you believe?' said the raven.

     'Not you again?'

     'You wanted maybe some dear little robin? Listen, your grand-'

     'Go away! '

     Susan slammed  the  window and pulled the curtains across. She put  her back  to them, to make sure, and tried to concentrate on the room. It helped to think about ... normal things.

     There was the Hogswatch tree, a rather smaller version of the grand one in the hall. She'd  helped the  children to make paper  decorations  for it. Yes. Think about that.

     There  were the  paperchains. There were the bits  of holly, thrown out from the main  rooms for not having  enough  berries on them, and  now given fake  modelling clay berries  and  stuck  in anyhow on  shelves  and  behind pictures.

     There were  two stockings  hanging  from the mantelpiece of  the  small schoolroom grate.  There were  Twyla's paintings, all blobby blue  skies and violently  green grass  and red houses with four square  windows. There were

...

     Normal things ...

     She  straightened  up and  stared  at them, her  fingernails beating  a thoughtful tattoo on a wooden pencil case.

     The  door was  pushed  open.  It revealed the  tousled  shape of Twyla, hanging onto the doorknob with one hand.

     'Susan, there's a monster under my bed again...'

     The click of Susan's fingernails stopped.

     '...I can hear it moving about...'

     Susan sighed and turned towards the child.

     'All right, Twyla. I'll be along directly.'

     The girl  nodded and  went back  to her room, leaping into  bed  from a distance as a precaution against claws.

     There was a  metallic tzing as Susan withdrew the poker from the little brass stand it shared with the tongs and the coal shovel.

     She sighed. Normality was what you made it.

     She went into  the children's bedroom  and  leaned over  as if  to tuck Twyla up. Then her hand darted down and under the bed. She grabbed a handful of hair. She pulled.

     The  bogeyman came out like a  cork but before it could get its balance it found itself spreadeagled against the wall with one arm  behind its back. But it did manage to turn its head, to see Susan's face glaring at it from a few inches away.

     Gawain bounced up and down on his bed.

     'Do the Voice on it! Do the Voice on it!' he shouted.

     'Don't  do  the  Voice,  don't do  the  Voice!'  pleaded  the  bogeyman urgently.

     'Hit it on the head with the poker!'

     'Not the poker! Not the poker!'

     'It's you, isn't it,' said Susan. 'From this afternoon . . .'

     'Aren't you going to poke it with the poker?' said Gawain.

     'Not the poker!' whined the bogeyman.

     'New in town?' whispered Susan.

     'Yes!' The  bogeyman's forehead  wrinkled  with puzzlement. 'Here,  how come you can see me?'

     'Then this is a friendly warning, understand? Because it's Hogswatch.'

     The bogeyman tried to move. 'You call this friendly?'

     'Ah, you want to try for unfriendly?' said Susan, adjusting her grip.

     'No, no, no, I like friendly!'

     'This house is out of bounds, right?'

     'You a witch or something?' moaned the bogeyman.

     ' I'm just ... something. Now  ... you won't be around here again, will you? Otherwise it'll be the blanket next time.'

     'No!'

     'I mean it. We'll put your head under the blanket.'

     'No!'

     'It's got fluffy bunnies on it. '

     'No!'

     'Off you go, then.'

     The bogeyman half fell, half ran towards the door.

     'It's not right,' it mumbled. 'You're not s'posed  to see us if you ain't dead or magic. 's not fair. . .'

     'Try number nineteen,' said  Susan, relenting a little. 'The  governess there doesn't believe in bogeymen.'

     'Right?' said the monster hopefully.

     'She believes in algebra, though.'

     'Ah.  Nice.' The bogeyman  grinned hugely. It was amazing  the sort  of mischief that  could becaused in a  house where  no one in authority thought you existed.

     'I'll be off, then,' it said. 'Er. Happy Hogswatch.'

     'Possibly,' said Susan, as it slunk away.

     'That wasn't as much  fun as the one last  month,' said Gawain, getting between the sheets again. 'You know, when you kicked him in the trousers...'

     'Just you two get to sleep now,' said Susan.

     'Verity said the sooner we got to sleep  the sooner the Hogfather would come,' said Twyla conversationally.

     'Yes,' said Susan. 'Unfortunately, that might be the case.'

     The remark  passed right over their heads. She wasn't  sure why  it had gone through hers, but she knew enough to trust her senses.

     She hated that kind of sense. It ruined your life. But it was the sense she had been born with.

     The children were tucked in, and  she closed the door  quietly and went back to the schoolroom.

     Something had changed.

     She glared at  the stockings, but  they were unfulfilled.  A paperchain rustled.

     She  stared at  the  tree.  Tinsel  had  been twined  around it,  badly pasted-together decorations had been hung on  it. And  on  top was the fairy made of

     She  crossed  her  arms,  looked   up  at   the  ceiling,   and  sighed theatrically.

     'It's you, isn't it?' she said.

SQUEAK?

     'Yes, it is. You're sticking out your  arms like a scarecrow and you've stuck a little star on your scythe, haven't you...?'

     The Death of Rats hung his head guiltily.

SQUEAK.

     'You're not fooling anyone.'

SQUEAK.

     'Get down from there this minute!'

SQUEAK.

     'And what did you do with the fairy?'

     'It's  shoved  under a cushion  on the chair,' said  a  voice  from the shelves on the other side of  the room.  There was a clicking  noise and the raven's voice added, 'These damn eyeballs are hard, aren't they?'

     Susan raced across the room and snatched the bowl away so fast that the raven somersaulted and landed on its back.

     'They're  walnuts!'  she  shouted,  as  they  bounced  around her. 'Not eyeballs! This  is a schoolroom! And the  difference  between  a  school and a-a-a raven delicatessen is that they hardly ever have eyeballs lying around in bowls  in case  a  raven  drops  in for  a  quick snack!  Understand?  No eyeballs! The world is full of small round things that aren't eyeballs! OK?'

     The raven's own eyes revolved.

     ' ' n' I suppose a bit of warm liver's out of the question...'

     'Shut up!  I want both of you out  of here right now! I don't  know how you got in here-'

     'There's a law against coming down the chimney on Hogswatchnight?'

     '...but I don't want you back in my life, understand?'

     'The rat said  you ought to be warned even if you were crazy,' said the raven  sulkily. 'I  didn't want  to come, there's a donkey dropped dead just outside the city gates, I'll be lucky now if I get a hoof---'