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Jess and Toyah were already in bed when Dana came into the room, although neither girl had made much progress toward sleep. Toyah was sitting cross-legged against the pillows with the quilt gathered around her waist, while Jess had somehow turned sideways and was lying with her head where Toyah’s elbow ought to have been, one bare foot poking from beneath the covers near the wall. They had been talking in the low, urgent voices children used after bedtime, as if whispering automatically made whatever they were doing permissible, but the instant Dana appeared in the doorway with the large book held against her chest the conversation stopped. Jess rolled upright so quickly that she tangled herself in the quilt. Toyah caught her under one arm and helped pull her free, then both girls stared at Dana with the same bright anticipation.
Dana leaned against the doorframe for a moment and looked at them. At thirteen she was old enough to enjoy pretending that she had been placed in charge of two particularly unruly creatures, although she had volunteered for the job and had been carrying the book around half the evening waiting for the proper moment. “Thought you two were meant to be asleep,” she said, and Toyah immediately dropped flat onto her pillow and squeezed her eyes shut. Jess copied her a second later, though she was smiling too broadly for the performance to have any chance of success. Dana looked from one suspiciously rigid child to the other and nodded gravely. “Well, that’s that, then. No point reading to sleeping people.” Both girls sat bolt upright at once, Toyah protesting, “No, no, no, we’re awake,” while Jess reached both hands toward the book and insisted, “Story first.”
Dana had known exactly what would happen. She came over and climbed onto the bed beside them, making herself a place against the headboard while Toyah moved one pillow, Jess moved another, and then both girls immediately crowded back into the space they had supposedly cleared for her. The copy of *Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland* had become interesting to them before anybody had read a word aloud. Alice had chosen an edition with large illustrations worked through the text, and the physical book itself seemed important in a way their smaller storybooks did not. It was thick enough to require two hands when Jess tried carrying it, and its pictures invited lingering rather than quick page-turning. Alice had called it a family book when she gave it to them, something for everyone rather than a present that would disappear into one person’s room, but Jess and Toyah had claimed the first proper reading simply through the intensity of their interest. Dana had looked through it too, alone at the table, and had decided almost immediately that reading it in an ordinary voice would be a waste.
She settled the spine across her thighs and opened to the first page, holding the book low enough that both girls could see. Jess pressed against Dana’s right side and leaned forward until her hair nearly touched the paper. Toyah had tucked herself against Dana’s left arm, one hand already hovering over an illustration. Dana gently caught Toyah’s wrist before the finger landed. “Looking hands,” she reminded her, and Toyah folded her hands together with exaggerated obedience. Jess watched her do it and folded her own hands too, after which the girls glanced at one another and began giggling for no apparent reason. Dana waited until they had settled, then began in her ordinary voice, warm but quiet enough to suit the hour. “‘Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do.’”
The beginning made Jess attentive rather than excited. She studied the illustrated Alice beside her sister and listened while Dana read about the book with no pictures or conversations. Toyah’s eyebrows went up when Dana reached Alice’s complaint about it. “She’s right,” Toyah said immediately, and Dana paused to look at her. Toyah pointed toward the page without touching it. “Books need pictures.” Jess considered that and added, “And talking.” Dana smiled. “Alice appears to have found her people.” Toyah nodded as though this were obvious, while Jess leaned closer to the page again and waited for whatever was going to happen to the bored girl sitting beside the riverbank.
Dana kept the first few paragraphs deliberately gentle. Her voice drifted through the sleepy afternoon in the story, through daisies and heat and Alice’s wandering thoughts, and the girls gradually became quieter with it. Jess’s shoulder rested against Dana’s upper arm. Toyah had stopped bouncing one knee beneath the covers. The room itself seemed to cooperate, the bedside lamp warming the pages while the rest of Toyah’s bedroom softened into shadow, and the ordinary sounds elsewhere in the house became distant enough that they did not interrupt anything. Dana let the calm stretch just long enough for both girls to settle into it, then reached the moment when a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by Alice.
Dana’s entire posture changed. Her shoulders jumped toward her ears, her eyes widened and her voice sprang suddenly into a breathless, high-strung panic. “‘Oh deah! Oh DEAH! I shall be too late!’” Jess jolted and then burst into delighted laughter. Toyah slapped both hands over her mouth to suppress a shriek, failed, and buried her face against Dana’s shoulder instead. Dana continued without breaking character, giving the Rabbit hurried little gasps between phrases, her words coming faster each time he became more agitated. When she reached the moment in which he took a watch from his waistcoat pocket and looked at it, Dana mimed fumbling inside an invisible pocket and then stared in horror at an imaginary watch. “Ooh, deah, deah, deah, lookit th’ TIME, dreadful, simply dreadful, terribly, horribly LATE!”
Jess immediately accused her through laughter. “That bit’s not in there.” Dana dropped the Rabbit’s voice and looked down at the page with mock concern. “Are you checking?” Jess nodded, delighted by the possibility of catching her. Dana tapped the margin. “Then I’ll have to be careful.” Toyah had already become the Rabbit herself, shoulders raised and eyes huge while she pretended to pull a watch from the front of her nightshirt. “I’m late!” she cried, then began running in place beneath the quilt. Jess joined her, both girls’ knees pumping up and down until the book began bouncing on Dana’s lap. Dana lifted it safely out of range and informed them, “The Rabbit is going to escape while you’re wrecking the bed,” which made both stop immediately and peer back toward the page.
Alice followed the Rabbit across the field and down the hole, and the girls accepted that decision without needing any explanation. Dana could see it in their faces: of course she followed him. Something impossible had appeared and run away, and the only sensible thing was to discover where it had gone. Toyah made two fingers race along the lower edge of the quilt as Dana read Alice crossing the field. Jess leaned forward until the Rabbit disappeared from the illustration. Then Dana turned the page and revealed the long fall down the rabbit hole.
Both girls went completely still. The picture held Alice suspended in a strange vertical world of shelves, cupboards and objects embedded along the sides of the seemingly bottomless shaft, and the ridiculousness of falling slowly enough to look around did not bother either child at all. Toyah’s mouth opened slightly. Jess moved closer until the side of her face nearly touched Dana’s arm. Dana lowered her voice and drew the words out with the descent. “‘Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her.’” Her hand drifted downward through the air above the blanket as she read, and both pairs of eyes followed it.
When Alice took a jar from one of the shelves, Dana reached to the side and plucked an imaginary object from the bedroom wall. She turned it around in her hand and read the label with great solemnity. “‘ORANGE MARMALADE.’” Toyah leaned across Jess to look into Dana’s empty palm. Dana peered into the imaginary jar, frowned deeply and said, “Empty.” Toyah’s expression changed to immediate outrage. “Why?” she demanded, while Jess was already smiling because Dana looked personally betrayed by the nonexistent marmalade. Dana shook the jar upside down and sighed. “Not one bit.” Toyah muttered, “That’s silly,” but then copied Alice carefully putting the jar into another cupboard rather than dropping it. Jess copied her, and soon both girls were plucking imaginary jars from the air and transferring them safely from one side of the bed to the other.
Dana read through their movements, letting her voice sink lower with every repetition. “‘Down, down, down.’” She dropped an octave. “‘Down, down, down.’” Then she put on the deepest voice she could manage and rumbled, “‘Would the fall NEVER come to an end?’” Jess collapsed backward against the pillows in laughter. Toyah disappeared beneath the quilt. Dana stopped and looked at the moving lump beside her. “Lost one.” Jess immediately burrowed under after Toyah. Dana now had two wriggling shapes moving beneath the covers, and she placed the book securely against her chest while pretending to search for them. “Well. That’s unfortunate. Two children gone straight through the mattress.” A muffled voice from below answered, “We’re falling,” and Dana lowered her face toward the blanket and replied in the same great subterranean rumble, “Dooooown.”
Jess’s head appeared first, hair mussed around her face, and she repeated, “Down, down, down,” before collapsing beneath the covers again. Toyah emerged on the other side and tipped backward with both arms spread as though she were floating. Dana resumed reading, and for a while the bed itself became the rabbit hole. Jess and Toyah sank, rose, disappeared and reappeared in response to the story, their excitement almost entirely physical. They did not sit still and describe what they imagined; they became it. A fall required falling. A cupboard required reaching. A strange word made their mouths move silently as they tried it for themselves. Jess and Toyah had always operated that way together, Toyah’s impulsive movement often becoming the beginning of an idea while Jess gave it enough shape to continue, each activating the other rather than merely copying.
Alice began wondering how far she had fallen, and Dana gave her a voice that was different from both narrator and Rabbit: young, curious, slightly breathless with her own thoughts, each new idea arriving before the last had completely finished. “‘I wonder how many miles I’ve fallen by this time?’” Dana read, then shifted into Alice’s thoughtful confidence. “‘I must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth.’” Jess repeated “centre” quietly. Toyah looked down toward the floorboards. Dana continued into Alice’s muddled ideas about latitude and longitude, preserving the words rather than stopping to simplify them. Jess whispered “latitude” after Dana. Toyah tried it too, producing something closer to “latti-tood,” then repeated it until she was satisfied with the sound.
When Alice wondered whether she might fall straight through the earth, Toyah looked up at Dana. “Could she?” Dana shook her head. “No.” Toyah’s forehead creased. “Why?” Dana answered, “There’s quite a lot of earth in the way,” and Jess giggled. Toyah was not distracted by the joke. “What’s in the middle?” she asked. Dana told her, “A very hot core,” which caused both girls to stare down at the mattress as though the information might have changed the floor beneath them. Toyah asked, “Hot like fire?” and Dana answered, “Much hotter,” before seeing another question forming and promptly returning to the book. “Fortunately for Alice, she has other problems.”
The long fall ended suddenly. Dana slapped the quilt twice with the flat of her hand and shouted, “‘THUMP! THUMP!’” Jess jumped hard enough to grab Dana’s sleeve. Toyah bounced straight up from the mattress and then clapped both hands over her mouth again. Dana read that Alice had landed on a heap of sticks and dry leaves without being hurt, and Jess immediately studied the picture to make sure. “No scrape?” she asked. Dana shook her head. “Perfect landing.” Toyah nodded approvingly. “She’s good at falling.” Dana conceded that this seemed true.
The Rabbit hurried away again, and Dana returned so quickly to his nervous voice that Toyah began laughing before the words were finished. “‘Oh, mah EARS an’ WHISKERS! How late it’s getting!’” Dana made two fingers race along the page and then across her own knee. Toyah lunged after them. The fingers escaped behind the book. Jess reached around the other side. Dana’s Rabbit ran across the blanket. Both girls pursued it with their hands until Toyah crawled halfway across Jess, at which point Jess yelped and shoved her back with both palms. Dana lowered the book and said, “Rabbit chasing does not include flattening Jess.” Toyah immediately sat back. “Sorry.” Jess accepted the apology just as quickly, smoothed her hair and then pointed toward Dana’s hand. “He got away.” Dana made the Rabbit’s fingers vanish behind the page. “Completely.”
Alice entered the long hall filled with locked doors, and the mood shifted once more. The illustration gave Jess a problem to solve, and Dana watched her attention sharpen. Toyah pointed to the first door. Dana read Alice trying it. Locked. Toyah pointed to another. Locked. Jess chose a third. Locked. Soon both girls were calling out doors and Dana was rejecting them almost as quickly as they could choose. Toyah became increasingly offended. “That one.” Dana said, “Locked.” Jess pointed higher. “That.” Dana shook her head. “Locked.” Toyah stabbed a finger toward the opposite side of the illustration. “That big one.” Dana replied, “Locked.” Toyah folded her arms and declared, “That’s mean.”
Then came the little glass table and the tiny golden key. Dana showed them the illustration before continuing. Jess’s eyes moved immediately from the key toward the doors. Toyah bounced once. Dana read Alice trying the key. Too small for one lock. Too large for another. Wrong again. Toyah’s face fell. Jess continued scanning. Dana could see the precise moment she noticed the curtain hiding the smallest door, because her whole body straightened. Her finger flew out. “There.” Toyah looked where Jess pointed. “What?” Jess tapped the air above the tiny doorway. “That one.” Dana read on without confirming anything, enjoying the way Jess waited.
The key fitted. Jess shouted, “I knew it!” and Toyah grabbed her around the shoulders and shook her in triumph. Dana laughed and gently separated them before their foreheads collided. “Yes, Jess solved the architecture of Wonderland.” Jess looked pleased even though she did not understand architecture. Toyah pointed eagerly. “Open it.” Dana did, with Alice, and turned the page to the narrow passage and beautiful garden beyond it.
Toyah made a tiny breathless sound. Jess did not speak at all. Both girls leaned toward the illustration, drawn by the brightness and detail of the garden beyond the cramped little doorway. Dana let them look instead of reading immediately. Flowers crowded the scene. Paths curved away out of view. The little entrance made the place seem both close and impossible to reach. Toyah whispered, “I wanna go there.” Jess nodded. Dana finally resumed in Alice’s softer voice. “‘How I long to get out of this dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains.’”
The trouble was obvious even before Dana said it. Alice could not fit. Jess frowned. Toyah said, “She can crawl.” Dana read Alice trying. She could not. Toyah suggested, “Push.” Dana continued. Still no. Toyah looked impatiently at the illustration, as though the printed Alice had failed to make a serious enough effort. Jess was quieter, thinking. “She needs to get little,” she said. Dana kept her face blank. Jess immediately looked suspicious. “She does.” Dana said, “I didn’t say anything.” Jess smiled because Dana’s refusal felt like confirmation.
The bottle appeared next, and the label gave them another problem. Dana lowered her voice until the two words became almost conspiratorial. “‘DRINK ME.’” Toyah shook her head at once. Jess did too. Dana looked between them. “Neither of you?” Toyah answered, “Don’t know what’s in it.” Jess added, “Could be poison.” Dana raised her eyebrows and resumed the story, where Alice herself remembered that bottles marked poison required caution. Toyah looked extremely satisfied to discover she and Alice had reached the same conclusion.
When Alice eventually tasted the drink, Dana read the bizarre mixture of flavors slowly, one at a time. “‘Cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast.’” Toyah’s nose wrinkled progressively until the final item made her recoil. “All together?” she asked. Dana nodded. Toyah announced, “That’s disgusting.” Jess was more cautious. “Custard’s good.” Dana turned toward her. “With roast turkey?” Jess paused. Toyah stared at her. Jess began laughing and admitted, “Maybe not.” Dana continued before Toyah could prosecute the argument further.
Alice began shrinking, and Dana lowered the book gradually with her. Jess slid downward against the pillows. Toyah copied her. Dana dropped another inch. Both girls lowered themselves farther. “‘Ten inches high,’” Dana whispered. Toyah folded herself into the smallest ball she could manage, chin nearly against her knees. Jess pulled the quilt to her nose so that only her eyes showed. Dana pinched thumb and forefinger close together. “Tiny.” Toyah whispered, “She fits.” Jess’s eyes brightened. “The door.”
Alice hurried toward it. Dana let anticipation build. The beautiful garden was waiting. Alice was finally small enough. Then Dana’s expression changed before she said a word. Jess noticed first. “What?” Toyah looked at Dana, then at Jess. “What happened?” Dana slowly turned her eyes toward the illustration of the glass table. Jess followed. Her face fell. “The key.” Dana nodded.
Toyah gasped as if Alice had personally betrayed her. “She forgot it!” Dana read that the key was still on the table, now far above Alice’s head. Toyah rose onto her knees and stretched both arms as high as she could. “Jump!” Alice tried. It did not work. Jess started climbing an imaginary table leg with her fingers against Dana’s sleeve. She slid them downward and tried again. Toyah did the same on the blanket. Neither imagined Alice succeeded. Toyah groaned and dropped onto the pillow. “She had it.” Jess defended her at once. “She didn’t know she was gonna get little.” Toyah thought about that, then nodded. “Okay.”
The tiny cake in the glass box created another argument. Dana read the currant letters in a low, tempting voice. “‘EAT ME.’” Toyah immediately said, “No.” Jess said, “Maybe.” Toyah turned sharply. “You said poison.” Jess answered, “That was drink.” Toyah stared at her with profound disbelief. Dana let the debate continue for a moment before reading Alice’s reasoning: if the cake made her larger, she could reach the key; if it made her smaller, she could fit under the door. Jess’s face relaxed. “See?” Toyah considered the strategy and finally said, “Okay, eat it.”
Dana made them wait after the first bite. Nothing happened. Toyah leaned forward. Alice ate more. Still nothing. Jess leaned forward too. Dana turned the page. Alice began to grow. Dana shot one arm straight upward and raised her voice with her. “‘Curiouser and curiouser!’” Both girls erupted. Toyah stretched her arms over her head. Jess kicked the covers down so she could make her legs as long as possible. Dana continued in Alice’s increasingly astonished voice. “‘Good-bye, feet!’”
Toyah grabbed her own feet. Jess did the same. Dana read Alice worrying that her feet were becoming so distant she might have to send them presents. Toyah stared down toward the end of the bed. “What presents?” Dana said, “Alice hasn’t decided.” Toyah immediately offered, “Shoes.” Jess suggested, “Socks.” Toyah added, “Cake.” Dana looked at her. “Sending cake to your own feet seems extravagant.” Toyah shrugged. “Feet like cake.” Jess collapsed into laughter, and Toyah joined her despite still apparently believing this.
Alice’s head eventually struck the ceiling. Dana knocked gently against the headboard and exclaimed, “BONK.” Both girls put their hands on top of their heads. Jess winced sympathetically. Toyah whispered, “Ow.” Then the humor shifted when Alice realized she was still unable to reach the garden. She had become enormous and helpless, and Dana softened her performance with the character. Alice tried not to cry. She scolded herself. She cried anyway.
The pool of tears fascinated the girls, but differently from the fall. Toyah stared at the illustration and whispered, “She cried all that?” Dana nodded. Jess’s face had become solemn. She pressed a little closer into Dana’s side. Dana did not explain Alice’s feelings or turn them into a lesson. She simply read them as they came: frustration, loneliness, confusion and the peculiar misery of having tried several things only to make everything harder. Toyah shifted until her shoulder touched Jess’s. Jess did not look at her, but leaned back.
The Rabbit’s return broke the sadness immediately. Dana snapped into his frantic voice. “‘The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh, won’t she be savage if I’ve kept her waiting!’” Toyah sat straight up. Jess grinned. Dana scurried the Rabbit across the page with her fingers and then froze when he saw Alice. Her Rabbit stared upward in mute horror. Dana’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened. She made a tiny strangled noise and flung imaginary gloves and fan into the air. Toyah screamed with laughter. Jess dropped sideways against Dana.
“He’s scared of her,” Toyah said when she recovered. Dana nodded. “She is considerably larger than he remembers.” Jess stretched both arms as wide as possible. Toyah stretched hers wider. Their hands hit each other. Both began laughing again. Dana let Alice pick up the fan and resumed the story.
The fan caused another change. Dana lowered herself slowly against the headboard while Alice shrank. Jess copied her. Toyah followed. All three sank lower and lower until Toyah disappeared beneath the quilt altogether. Dana whispered, “Smaller…” and Jess slid down until only the top of her head showed. “Smaller…” Toyah’s muffled voice from beneath the covers echoed, “Smaller.” Then Alice slipped into the pool of tears.
Dana slapped the blanket once. “Splash.”
Both girls sprang up.
Alice began swimming. Toyah threw herself onto her stomach and started paddling across the quilt. Jess followed, using tiny strokes because there was not much room. Dana lifted the book out of reach of their feet and said, “No drowning Dana while you’re swimming.” Toyah reduced her kicking. Jess carefully turned her face sideways as though breathing between strokes. They kept swimming while Dana read.
Then Alice discovered she was not alone.
Dana slowed.
Toyah stopped paddling.
Jess froze.
Something else was splashing nearby.
Dana turned the page to the Mouse.
Toyah pushed herself upright. Jess sat beside her. Dana gave the Mouse a quick, tight, indignant little voice, high enough to be funny but not squeaky. Alice tried to speak politely. The Mouse remained suspicious. Dana alternated voices rapidly, Alice bright and eager, the Mouse stiff with offense.
Alice mentioned a cat.
Dana’s Mouse recoiled.
Toyah immediately pointed at the page. “Don’t say that.”
Alice kept talking.
Jess began smiling because she could see what was coming.
Alice tried to improve matters and mentioned how good the cat was at catching mice.
Toyah groaned. “Stop!”
Dana’s Mouse became more outraged.
Alice apologized and decided to talk about a dog instead.
Toyah threw both hands up. “NO!”
Jess burst out laughing. “She keeps making it worse.”
Dana kept switching between Alice’s increasingly desperate attempts at friendliness and the Mouse’s scandalized replies. Toyah began trying to warn Alice before every sentence. “Don’t say cat. Don’t say dog. Don’t say nothing.” Jess was laughing so hard she had to press her face into Dana’s shoulder. Dana eventually paused and looked at Toyah. “What should Alice talk about?” Toyah thought very hard. “Water.” Jess added, “Swimming.” Toyah nodded. “Say swimming.” Dana looked down at the book. “Unfortunately, Alice has not consulted you.”
More creatures joined them, and Dana added voices as they appeared. The Duck spoke with broad round syllables, its words almost turning into quacks without becoming actual quacking. The Lory received a prim, superior voice. The Eaglet sounded confused by everything. Then the Dodo took charge.
Dana sat suddenly straight. She raised her chin, widened her chest and dropped her voice into a grand, ceremonial boom. “‘THE QUESTION IS, WHAT IS TO BE DONE?’” Toyah stared at her for one startled second before folding into helpless laughter. Jess covered her mouth with both hands. Dana maintained the expression, every inch of her now suggesting a creature who believed itself to be the greatest authority in existence.
The Dodo proposed a Caucus-race. Toyah repeated, “Caw-cuss.” Jess tried, “Caucus.” Toyah asked, “What’s that?” Dana considered the page and said, “In this case, everybody runs around without much organization.” Toyah’s whole face lit up. “That’s a race?” Dana nodded. Toyah immediately put two fingers on the quilt and began running them in circles. Jess joined her.
Dana read the race while their fingers performed it. Nobody had a proper starting place. Everyone began whenever they liked. Nobody followed the same course. Toyah’s runner crossed Dana’s leg, Jess’s turned around the book, and both collided near the blanket fold before continuing in opposite directions. Dana narrated above them until the Dodo decided the race was over.
She restored the grand voice. “‘EVERYBODY HAS WON, AND ALL MUST HAVE PRIZES.’”
Jess’s fingers stopped.
Toyah’s stopped beside them.
Both looked up.
Toyah whispered, “Everybody?”
“Everybody.”
Her face broke into a delighted grin. “That’s the best race.”
Jess nodded thoughtfully. “Nobody loses.”
“No,” Dana said.
Toyah lifted both hands above her head as though celebrating a championship. “I WIN.”
Jess immediately raised hers. “Me too.”
Dana looked between them. “Apparently the Dodo has created the perfect system for this bedroom.”
The prizes only made it better. Dana read about Alice distributing comfits, one apiece, and then the creatures deciding Alice must receive something too. When Alice found a thimble in her pocket, Dana mimed holding it delicately between finger and thumb. Then she became the Dodo again, full of ceremony. “‘We beg your acceptance of this elegant thimble!’”
Toyah stared.
Jess’s mouth opened.
Toyah pointed. “But it’s hers.”
Dana nodded.
“She already had it.”
“Yes.”
“They give her her own thing?”
“Yes.”
Jess started laughing first. Toyah held out for another second, genuinely offended by the injustice of this prize, then began laughing too. Dana continued the presentation until the Dodo’s pomp became more important than the thimble itself. Toyah decided she liked him. Jess agreed, although she maintained that the prize was bad.
By then Dana was having as much fun as they were. That had not been the plan in any deliberate sense. She had expected to enjoy reading to them, but the book invited performance so readily that she found herself looking ahead by half a line simply to decide what face or voice ought to come next. The girls made every choice rewarding. Toyah responded with her whole body, recoiling, stretching, swimming, hiding and running according to whatever the story required. Jess watched details, caught patterns and laughed hardest when something violated the rules she thought she understood. Dana could feel their attention moving between the words, pictures and her face, and it made her want to give each character something memorable.
The Mouse’s long tale offered a quieter joke. Dana tilted the book to show the words narrowing and twisting down the page. Jess noticed the shape first. “They’re going down.” Toyah leaned close. Dana read the phrase about the Mouse’s long and sad tale. Jess studied the curved print. Dana waited. Toyah looked from the page to Dana. Then her eyes widened. “TAIL!” she cried, recognizing the joke. Jess’s grin followed immediately. Dana smiled. Toyah slapped Jess’s knee in excitement, then traced the descending shape in the air without touching the page.
The Caterpillar arrived sitting on his mushroom, and Dana invented his voice only after staring at the illustration for a moment. When she finally spoke, every syllable came slow, deep and maddeningly calm. “‘Whooo… are… yooou?’” Toyah’s expression changed instantly. Jess tried to imitate the voice and failed because she began laughing halfway through. Dana continued as Alice, confused after changing sizes so many times, then became the Caterpillar again. “‘What… do… you… mean… by… that?’”
Toyah leaned toward Dana. “Why he talk so slow?”
Dana remained the Caterpillar. “‘I… do… not… know… what… you… mean.’”
Toyah groaned.
Jess fell against her shoulder laughing.
Dana deliberately stretched the next pause longer than the text required. The Caterpillar looked at Alice. Alice waited. Toyah waited. Dana waited. Toyah finally shouted, “TALK!”
Dana broke character and laughed.
Toyah threw herself backward onto the pillows. “He takes ages.”
“He appears to have nowhere else to be,” Dana said.
Jess attempted the voice again, slowly asking Toyah, “Whooo are yooou?” Toyah answered in her normal voice, “Toyah,” then shoved Jess lightly with one hand. Jess laughed and did it again. Toyah tried the Caterpillar voice herself, lowering her chin until it nearly touched her chest and producing an absurd growl that sounded nothing like Dana’s. The two girls became increasingly ridiculous until Dana had to reclaim the story.
The mushroom returned them to size-changing, which restored the physical play. One side made Alice grow. Dana lifted the book. Toyah stretched upward. Jess craned her neck. The other made Alice shrink. Dana lowered it. Both girls folded themselves small. Alice’s neck stretched strangely, and Toyah pushed her chin forward as far as she could. Jess copied her, then looked sideways at Toyah and immediately laughed at the face she was making. Toyah saw Jess’s expression and laughed too, both losing the pose.
When the Cheshire Cat appeared, Dana let the room quiet again. The enormous grin caught Toyah first. “Look at his mouth.” Jess looked closely and said, “Too big.” Dana gave the Cat a smooth, amused voice, gentle but strange, as though every answer contained another private joke. Alice asked which way she ought to go. Dana read the Cat’s reply softly. “‘That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.’”
Toyah pointed toward one side of the page. “There.”
Jess chose the other. “No, there.”
Alice admitted she did not much care where.
Dana’s Cat answered, “‘Then it doesn’t matter which way you go.’”
Toyah frowned at the picture. Jess listened more intently.
Alice said she only wanted to get somewhere.
Dana let the grin enter her voice. “‘Oh, you’re sure to do that, if you only walk long enough.’”
Toyah considered this, then made two fingers start walking along the quilt. Jess watched them and put her own fingers beside Toyah’s. The two little walkers moved away together.
The Cat’s declaration that everyone there was mad delighted them for a different reason. Dana read, “‘We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.’” Toyah immediately looked at Jess. Jess looked back. Neither said a word. Their matching expressions caused both to start giggling. Dana waited for them to recover, then continued until the Cheshire Cat began disappearing.
She covered part of the illustration with her hand.
“Gone.”
She covered more.
Toyah leaned forward.
Dana shifted her palm again until only the grin remained visible.
Jess whispered, “His smile’s still there.”
Dana nodded.
Toyah pulled the quilt over her face until only her own grin showed.
Jess copied her.
Dana looked down at two floating smiles.
“That is deeply unsettling.”
The blankets shook with laughter.
The Mad Tea-Party destroyed whatever remained of calm. The Hatter and March Hare shouted that there was no room despite sitting at a table with plenty of empty places. Dana turned her head sharply left and right as she gave them separate voices. “‘NO ROOM! NO ROOM!’” Toyah shouted straight back, “THERE IS!” Jess pointed at the picture. “Loads!” Dana switched into Alice’s offended voice. “‘There’s plenty of room!’” Toyah applauded her.
The March Hare offered Alice wine when there was no wine. Toyah did not approve. Alice told him it was not very civil. The Hare pointed out that Alice had sat down without being invited. Toyah became increasingly indignant. “But he said no room.” Dana nodded. “He did.” Toyah pointed harder. “But there IS room.” Dana nodded again. “There is.” Jess said, “He’s tricking.” Dana continued reading before either girl decided to put the March Hare on trial.
The Hatter’s riddle seized Jess immediately. Dana leaned closer, twitching her eyebrows in what had become the Hatter’s quick, conspiratorial expression. “‘Why is a raven like a writing-desk?’” Jess frowned. Toyah answered at once, “Because it sits on it.” Dana asked, “The raven sits on the desk?” Toyah nodded. Jess was thinking harder. “They both got…” She stopped. Dana waited. Jess looked at the illustration as though the answer might be hidden somewhere in it. “Black?” she tried. Dana made no judgment.
Alice believed she could guess.
Jess sat straighter.
Toyah waited.
The conversation wandered away.
Toyah interrupted. “What’s the answer?”
Dana kept reading.
Eventually the Hatter admitted that he had not the slightest idea.
Toyah stared at Dana.
Jess stared too.
Dana became the March Hare. “‘Nor I.’”
There was a beat of silence.
Toyah said, “He don’t KNOW?”
Dana shook her head.
“He asked it!”
“Yes.”
Jess’s face crumpled with laughter.
Toyah looked offended on behalf of riddles everywhere. “That’s cheating.”
Alice soon said much the same thing, complaining about wasting time. Toyah pointed at the page. “See? Alice knows.” Dana smiled and continued into the Hatter’s peculiar explanation of Time, now treated as a person who could be offended. The concept pulled Jess in more quietly. Toyah seemed most interested in the practical result: the clock had become permanently stuck at six, so it was always tea-time.
“Forever?” Toyah asked.
“Forever.”
“No breakfast?”
“Apparently not.”
“No lunch?”
“No.”
Jess whispered, “Just tea.”
Toyah frowned. “That’s bad.”
Dana laughed. “You were very enthusiastic about the tea-party five minutes ago.”
“They need dinner.”
“That is a compelling criticism.”
The Dormouse’s sleepy story slowed everything again. Dana gave him a voice that seemed to emerge through several layers of dreaming, the words thick and drowsy. “‘Once upon a time there were three little sisters…’” Jess settled deeper against Dana. Toyah rested her head against Jess’s shoulder without seeming to notice she had done it. The sisters lived at the bottom of a well and lived on treacle. Toyah asked what treacle was, and Dana told her it was a thick sweet syrup. Toyah approved until Jess asked, “They eat only that?” Dana nodded. Jess looked concerned. “They’ll get sick.” Dana told her, “Probably not the most balanced arrangement.”
The three sisters drew things beginning with M. Dana read the examples through the Dormouse’s near-sleep, letting each word drift more slowly than the last: mousetraps, moon, memory, muchness. Jess repeated, “Muchness.” Toyah did too. Then Toyah asked, “What’s muchness?” Dana paused and looked down at the line. She could have tried explaining it properly, but the expression on Toyah’s face demanded something else. “A lot of much.” Jess immediately laughed. Toyah’s eyes widened with delight. “A LOT of much.” She stretched both arms wide.
Jess stretched hers wider.
Toyah noticed.
“No, mine’s more.”
Jess extended her fingers as far as possible.
Toyah leaned sideways to increase her reach.
Dana caught her before she elbowed the lamp. “No competitive muchness at bedtime.”
Toyah reluctantly lowered her arms.
Jess wore a small victorious smile.
Dana continued before a rematch began.
The Queen of Hearts arrived with enough force to wake whatever sleepiness had started creeping into the bed. The gardeners were painting roses, and Toyah demanded to know why. Dana read that they had planted the wrong color. Jess said simply, “They could leave them.” Dana continued until the Queen appeared.
She took a breath.
Then she boomed, “‘WHO’S BEEN PAINTING MY ROSES?’”
Toyah jumped.
Jess’s eyes widened.
Dana’s Queen occupied the entire bedroom. She gave every word the force of a royal decree, chin lifted, eyes furious, her voice booming without becoming loud enough to bring an adult down the hallway. The gardeners fell flat. Toyah ducked under the quilt. Jess followed a second later.
Dana roared, “‘OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!’”
Toyah’s face appeared again. “She can’t!”
Dana remained the Queen and turned toward her with narrowed eyes. “‘WHO SAID THAT?’”
Toyah vanished.
Jess burst out laughing.
Dana leaned over the quilt. “‘WHO DARES QUESTION THE QUEEN?’”
Toyah whispered from beneath it, “Jess.”
Jess gasped. “TOYAH.”
The blanket erupted as Jess tried to uncover her. Toyah squealed. Dana lowered the book until they separated themselves, then informed them in the Queen’s voice, “‘ORDER!’” Both girls immediately sat upright, shoulders shaking.
Alice was far less impressed by the Queen than everyone else. When the Queen demanded to know who the fallen cards were, Alice answered that she did not know. Dana let Alice’s voice become clearer, firmer, no longer quite so lost in Wonderland. The Queen became purple with fury. Dana drew herself up. “‘OFF WITH HER HEAD!’”
Toyah shook her head violently.
Jess whispered, “No.”
Dana switched to Alice. “‘Nonsense!’”
Both girls stared.
Dana continued that the Queen fell silent.
Jess smiled first.
Toyah looked delighted. “She told her.”
“She did.”
“She’s not scared.”
Dana glanced at the text. “She has become rather tired of everybody telling her what to do.”
Toyah nodded as though she understood this state perfectly.
The croquet game turned Toyah’s pillow into a flamingo. She grabbed it by one end and bent the top around as though it had a neck. Jess became responsible for an imaginary hedgehog ball, cupping both hands protectively around a spot on the blanket. Dana read about everyone playing at once, arguing constantly and ignoring turns. Toyah tried to swing her pillow-flamingo, made its imaginary head turn around to look at her, and snapped, “Stop!” Jess collapsed laughing. Toyah tried again. The flamingo refused to cooperate. Dana read Alice experiencing exactly the same problem, which convinced Toyah that she understood Alice better than anyone.
The Queen continued ordering executions. Dana boomed another, “‘OFF WITH HIS HEAD!’” Jess began counting. “One.” A few lines later came another. “Two.” Toyah ducked every time. Dana continued. “Three.” The number rapidly became impossible to maintain, and Jess eventually gave up while Toyah whispered, “She really likes heads.”
Dana had to stop reading for a moment because the sentence struck her as much funnier than Toyah intended. Jess laughed because Dana was laughing. Toyah looked between them, then laughed too without entirely knowing why.
Eventually the condemned players turned out not to be losing their heads at all. They were quietly being spared whenever the Queen was not looking. Toyah brightened immediately. “So they okay?” Dana nodded. “Most of them appear to be doing fine.” Jess looked satisfied. The danger could remain theatrical if nobody actually suffered for it.
By the time they reached the trial, the energy in the room had finally begun sinking. Toyah was still watching every page, but she had stopped climbing and bouncing. Her head rested against Jess now. Jess leaned heavily into Dana, cheek warm against her sleeve. Dana adjusted the book higher so neither girl had to move.
The courtroom gave her one last collection of voices. The King sounded pompous but uncertain, frequently losing confidence halfway through his own declarations. The White Rabbit returned with all his old nervous urgency. The Hatter trembled through his evidence. The Queen remained magnificent and furious. Toyah still smiled every time Dana switched characters, but now the expressions happened without her lifting her head.
The accusation against the Knave concerned the stolen tarts. Dana gave the White Rabbit enormous ceremony as he read it. “‘The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, all on a summer day: the Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts, and took them quite away!’” Jess whispered, “Did he?” Dana answered softly, “That’s what they’re trying to find out.”
The trial did not impress Jess. Rules appeared from nowhere. Evidence proved nothing. The King invented things whenever it suited him. Jess frowned. “That’s not fair.” Dana kept reading. A new rule was declared. Jess sat up slightly. “He just made that.” Dana nodded. “He did.” Jess looked offended. “You can’t make it after.” Toyah murmured sleepily, “Cheating.” Dana smiled and continued, allowing the story itself to agree with them.
Alice began growing again, and with her size came confidence. Dana made her voice stronger. The King ordered everyone more than a mile high to leave the court. Alice refused. The Queen demanded sentence before verdict. Jess’s eyes opened wider. Toyah lifted her head. Dana read Alice’s response with complete certainty. “‘Stuff and nonsense!’”
Toyah smiled.
The Queen roared for Alice’s head.
Dana gave Alice the final answer. “‘Who cares for you? You’re nothing but a pack of cards!’”
She turned the page and fluttered her fingers above the girls as though cards were tumbling from the air. Toyah lifted both arms over her face. Jess ducked into Dana’s side. Dana let the invisible cards fall around them until Alice woke from the dream.
For a moment neither girl moved.
Toyah slowly lowered her arms. “She woke up?”
Dana nodded.
Jess looked at the page. “It was all a dream?”
“It was.”
Toyah considered this with her tired seriousness. “All of it?”
“All of Wonderland.”
Jess looked backward through the pages, turning two carefully with Dana’s help. The White Rabbit remained there. The tiny door. The Caterpillar. The Cat. The tea-party. The Queen. The pictures had not become less real to her because Alice had awakened. If anything, knowing the whole impossible journey had happened inside a dream seemed perfectly acceptable. Jess touched the margin beside one illustration and whispered, “Still there.”
Dana smiled. “Still there.”
Toyah yawned so widely that her eyes watered.
She immediately closed her mouth.
Jess looked at her.
“You yawned.”
“No.”
“You did.”
Toyah shook her head.
Jess yawned before she could continue.
Toyah pointed triumphantly. “YOU did.”
Dana closed the book across her lap. “And the prosecution rests.”
Neither child understood the phrase, but both understood that closing the book meant something worse.
Toyah immediately put one hand on the cover. “More.”
“That was the whole adventure.”
“Again.”
Dana laughed. “Absolutely not tonight.”
Jess leaned over the closed book. “Pictures?”
Dana looked at both sleepy faces and relented. “Pictures.”
She opened it again, not to continue but to travel backward. The girls settled immediately. Dana found the first sight of the White Rabbit. Toyah smiled and raised two fingers above her head. Dana gave the voice quietly now, almost a whisper. “‘Oh deah, oh deah, I shall be too late.’” Jess giggled.
They returned to the long fall. Jess traced Alice’s path through the air with one finger. Toyah mimed taking the marmalade jar from a shelf. They revisited the tiny door and the bright garden. Both girls became quiet there. Dana held the page steady while they looked.
Then came Alice enormous in the hall, the pool of tears, the Mouse, the Dodo and his race. Dana whispered in the grand voice, “‘Everybody has won.’” Toyah finished softly, “All get prizes.” Jess corrected her, equally soft. “All must have prizes.” Toyah nodded.
The Caterpillar made Toyah’s eyelids lift slightly. She gave him a sleepy imitation. “Whooo are yooou?” Dana answered in Alice’s voice, “I hardly know, sir.” Jess smiled without opening her eyes all the way.
The Cheshire Cat produced two exhausted grins.
The tea-party produced no argument now. Jess merely whispered, “He didn’t know the answer.” Toyah murmured, “Bad riddle.” Dana turned another page.
At the Queen, Toyah managed one final quiet, “Off with heads,” and Dana whispered, “A dreadful woman.” Jess corrected her. “Funny.” Toyah murmured, “Funny mean,” and Jess thought about that before giving a tiny nod.
Dana closed the book for the second time.
Neither protested.
She placed it on the bedside table within reach of the lamp but well away from the edge. When her lap became empty, Jess immediately slid farther down beneath the quilt. Toyah followed, turning onto her side so that she faced Jess. Dana pulled the covers over both shoulders and smoothed the blanket where their earlier adventures had twisted it into ridges.
For several seconds the girls remained awake in the dim room, their excitement still visible even though their bodies were finally too tired to act it out. Toyah’s fingers walked across the blanket between them. Jess saw and raised her own hand. Two pairs of fingers began moving silently.
Dana watched.
Toyah’s little hand stopped.
Jess’s stopped beside it.
Toyah whispered, “Door.”
Jess whispered, “Key.”
Their fingers moved onward.
Toyah murmured, “Garden.”
Neither girl needed to explain anything. They had reached the little door again.
Dana leaned toward the bedside lamp and turned it lower rather than off. A warm amber glow remained over the book and the nearest corner of the bed. Jess’s fingers walked another few inches. Toyah’s followed. They had left Dana behind now, continuing Wonderland without needing a reader.
Toyah’s hand made a tiny pouring motion.
Jess whispered, “Tea.”
Toyah murmured, “No room.”
Jess’s sleepy smile appeared. “Plenty room.”
Dana covered her mouth to hide her own smile.
Toyah’s fingers sat down beside Jess’s.
For a little while there was a silent tea-party between them.
Dana remained sitting against the headboard because neither child had asked her to leave and she was in no hurry to move. Jess and Toyah’s closeness had never required an occasion. They had shared stories, games, clothes, meals and sleepovers so naturally that neither seemed aware of how often one reached for the other without looking. Jess could become absorbed in some tiny detail while Toyah’s imagination raced three steps ahead, and somehow the two approaches nearly always met in the same game. Tonight Wonderland had simply given that old rhythm new material.
Toyah’s hand eventually stopped moving.
Jess waited, then nudged it lightly with one finger.
Toyah’s eyes opened.
Jess whispered, “You fell asleep.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“I blinked.”
Jess smiled.
Dana said softly, “Very long blink.”
Toyah looked betrayed by the alliance against her. “Dana.”
“I’m neutral.”
“You said.”
“I reported an observation.”
Jess did not know exactly what that meant, but she liked that it supported her.
Toyah rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “I like Alice.”
Jess said, “I like Alice too.”
Toyah added, “And Queen.”
Jess turned toward her. “She’s mean.”
“Funny mean.”
Jess repeated quietly, “Funny mean,” considering the category again.
Dana asked, “What about the Dodo?”
Toyah’s tired face brightened. “Everybody wins.”
Jess whispered, “That’s my favorite race.”
Dana smiled. “No rules, no course, no proper start and everybody wins.”
Toyah murmured, “Good race.”
“That explains quite a lot about you.”
Toyah grinned without understanding the accusation.
Jess said, “I like the little door.”
Dana looked toward the book.
“Because of the garden?”
Jess nodded. “You can see it but can’t get there.”
Toyah immediately said, “She got there.”
“She did later.”
“So you can.”
Jess accepted this answer.
Dana did not add anything to it. The girls had no need for a moral or an adult explanation of why the garden mattered. It was enough that a door existed, that something beautiful lay behind it, and that Alice kept trying different ways to reach it.
Toyah’s eyes closed again.
Jess whispered, “Dana?”
“Yeah?”
“Do Rabbit.”
Dana smiled in the dimness and hunched her shoulders one final time. The voice was barely louder than breath now, but unmistakable. “‘Oh deah… oh deah… I shall be too late.’”
Jess’s mouth curled upward.
Toyah, eyes still shut, lifted two fingers beside her forehead and then let her hand fall back to the pillow.
Dana whispered, “Terribly late.”
Jess answered, “Run.”
Dana moved two fingers quickly across the top of the quilt.
Jess’s eyes tracked them.
The fingers vanished over the edge.
Jess smiled.
“Gone.”
“Gone,” Dana agreed.
Silence settled again.
Dana waited until Jess’s blinking slowed and Toyah’s breathing had become deep and even. She shifted carefully toward the edge of the bed, but Jess’s hand appeared from beneath the quilt and caught two of her fingers.
“Tomorrow?”
Dana looked down at her.
“The book?”
Jess nodded.
“Yes.”
“Same voices?”
Dana pretended to consider. “Maybe the Rabbit will have a completely different voice tomorrow.”
Jess’s eyes opened wider in immediate objection. “No.”
Dana smiled. “Same voices.”
Jess relaxed again.
Toyah murmured without opening her eyes, “Dodo too.”
“Dodo too.”
“Queen.”
“Queen too.”
“Cat.”
“Yes, Toyah. Everybody.”
A sleepy little smile appeared on Toyah’s face. “Everybody wins.”
Dana laughed under her breath.
Jess shifted her hand from Dana’s fingers toward Toyah’s. Toyah’s hand was resting between their pillows, palm loose. Jess touched it, and Toyah’s fingers closed around hers without her eyes opening.
Dana drew the quilt a little higher.
She leaned over and kissed Jess’s forehead, then Toyah’s.
Jess whispered, “Night.”
Toyah produced something softer that might have been the same word.
Dana sat back for another moment and looked at the two of them. A few hours earlier the book had been a beautiful object Alice had brought into the family because she believed stories could become shared places. Now its pages already belonged to voices and gestures that had not been printed there. The Rabbit had Dana’s frantic panic. The Caterpillar would forever speak so slowly that Toyah wanted to shake him. The Dodo had become a magnificent authority on races nobody could lose. Jess had found the little door before anybody asked her to look for it. Toyah had swum through a quilt, argued with a Mouse on Alice’s behalf and decided that a murderous Queen could still qualify as funny mean. None of that was written into the edition. It had arrived because three sisters had sat together long enough to make the story theirs.
Dana reached for the book and shifted it farther from the edge of the table so nobody could knock it down during the night. Jess opened one eye to check what she was doing, saw the book was staying in the room and closed it again.
Dana stood.
She crossed quietly toward the doorway.
Behind her came the faintest whisper.
“Curiouser.”
Dana stopped and looked back.
Jess’s eyes remained closed.
Toyah answered after a sleepy pause, “And curiouser.”
Jess gave a tiny laugh.
Dana smiled and pulled the door almost shut, leaving a narrow wash of hallway light across the carpet.
The room finally became still. Jess and Toyah lay facing one another, hands loosely joined between the pillows, the enormous expenditure of their excitement reduced at last to the slow rise and fall of the quilt. The book rested beside them beneath the low lamp, closed but no longer unknown. Behind its cover waited the fall through the earth, the golden key and the little door, the impossible tea-party, the grinning Cat, the furious Queen, the race in which everyone won and the garden that could be glimpsed long before it could be reached. In the quiet of the bedroom, those places did not feel finished simply because Dana had stopped reading. They had only gone dark for the night, ready to begin again whenever two small girls opened the book and one older sister found the Rabbit’s voice.