Something rumbled in the distance.

“Listen!” I said. “What was that?”

“Wind,” Daffy replied. “Do you want that last piece of toast, or shall I have it?”

I grabbed the slice and gobbled it down dry as I dashed for the foyer.

• TWO •

A BLAST OF COLD air blew a flurry of freezing flakes into my face as I tugged open the heavy front door. I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering, and squinted out at the winter world.

In the first bleak light of day, the landscape was a black-and-white photograph, the vast expanses of the snowy lawn broken only by the ink-black silhouettes of the stark, leafless chestnut trees that lined the avenue. Here and there on the lawns, white-capped bushes bent towards the earth, cringing under their heavy loads.

Because of the blowing snow, it was impossible to see as far as the Mulford Gates, but something out there was moving.

I wiped the condensation from my eyes and looked again.

Yes! A small spot of pale color—and then another—had appeared upon the landscape! In the lead was an immense pantechnicon, its scarlet color growing ever more vivid as it came growling towards me through the falling snow. Lumbering along in its wake like a procession of clockwork elephants was a string of lesser vans … two … three … four … five … no, six of them!

As the pantechnicon made its slow, stiff-jointed final turn into the forecourt, I could clearly make out the name on the side: Ilium Films, it said, in bold cream and yellow letters, painted as if in three dimensions. The lesser lorries were similarly marked, but still impressive as they pulled up in a herd around their leader.

The door of the pantechnicon swung open and a massive sandy-haired man climbed down. He was dressed in a bib overall, with a flat cap on his head and a red handkerchief wrapped round his neck.