Coraline tried drawing the mist. After ten minutes of drawing she still had a white sheet of paper with mist written on it in one corner, in slightly wiggly letters. She grunted and passed it to her mother.

"Mm. Very modern, dear," said Coraline's mother.

Coraline crept into the drawing room and tried to open the old door in the corner. It was locked once more. She supposed her mother must have locked it again. She shrugged.

Coraline went to see her father.

He had his back to the door as he typed. "Go away," he said cheerfully as she walked in.

"I'm bored," she said.

"Learn how to tap-dance," he suggested, without turning round.

Coraline shook her head. "Why don't you play with me?" she asked.

"Busy," he said. "Working," he added. He still hadn't turned around to look at her. "Why don't you go and bother Miss Spink and Miss Forcible?"

Coraline put on her coat and pulled up her hood and went out of the house. She went down the steps. She rang the door of Miss Spink and Miss Forcible's flat. Coraline could hear a frenzied woofing as the Scottie dogs ran out into the hall. After a while Miss Spink opened the door.

"Oh, it's you, Caroline," she said. "Angus, Hamish, Bruce, down now, lovies. It's only Caroline. Come in, dear. Would you like a cup of tea?"

The flat smelt of furniture polish and dogs.

"Yes, please," said Coraline. Miss Spink led her into a dusty little room, which she called the parlour. On the walls were black and white photographs of pretty women, and theatre programmes in frames. Miss Forcible was sitting in one of the armchairs, knitting hard.

Miss Spink poured Coraline a cup of tea in a little pink bone-china cup with a saucer, and gave her a dry Garibaldi biscuit to go with it.

Miss Forcible looked at Miss Spink, picked up her knitting, and took a deep breath. "Anyway, April. As I was saying: you still have to admit, there's life in the old dog yet," she said.