The following Monday Alexander awoke with a smile. The evening he’d spent with Christian in the bizarre confines of his mansion was still fresh in his mind. It was difficult, now, to remember what had been real and what had been the product of dreams, for even though his dreams were usually vivid and full of fantasy, Christian’s house could best them all.
“You’re in a good mood today,” said Mr Wiggins. “What did you get up to on the weekend?”
Alexander opened his mouth to reply; not to repeat anything he shouldn’t, but to brag about his visit to The Mansion the previous Friday evening. Yet something stopped him. He closed his mouth again and busied himself preparing the box of mail.
“Nothing much,” he replied. “Just the usual. A sleep in, a bit of cleaning, some television. ”
Mr Wiggin
