Coraline continued walking through the garden in grey mist. She always kept in sight of the house.

After about ten minutes of walking she found herself back where she had started.

The hair over her eyes was limp and wet, and her face felt damp.

"Ahoy! Caroline!" called the crazy old man upstairs.

"Oh, hello," said Coraline.

She could hardly see the old man through the mist.

He walked down the steps on the outside of the house that led up past Coraline's front door to the door of his flat. He walked down very slowly. Coraline waited at the bottom of the steps.

"The mice do not like the mist," he told her. "It makes their whiskers droop."

"I don't like the mist much, either," admitted Coraline.

The old man leaned down, so close that the bottom of his moustache tickled Coraline's ear. "The mice have a message for you," he whispered.

Coraline didn't know what to say.

"The message is this. Don't go through the door." He paused. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"No," said Coraline.

The old man shrugged. "They are funny, the mice. They get things wrong. They got your name wrong, you know. They kept saying Coraline. Not Caroline. Not Caroline at all."

He picked up a milk bottle from the bottom step, and started back up to his attic flat.

Coraline went indoors. Her mother was working in her study. Her mother's study smelt of flowers.

"What shall I do?" asked Coraline.

"When do you go back to school?" asked her mother.

"Next week," said Coraline.

"Hmph," said her mother. "I suppose I shall have to get you new school clothes. Remind me, dear, or else I'll forget," and she went back to typing things on the computer screen.

"What shall I do?" repeated Coraline.

"Draw something." Her mother passed her a sheet of paper and a ballpoint pen.