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had slowed down. The sigh took for ever, both coming and going, as though there was room in her lungs for more air than she had thought.
    Outside, the birds were singing unusually loudly, and the sun was streaming through a gap in the curtains and on to her bed. She realised that this was probably why she felt so hot, but when she lifted her hand to throw back the covers, something brown and furry jumped up on to her chest.
    Tess was not a screamer, even at that age, which was probably just as well. If she had attempted to scream at that moment, the noise would have woken half the street, and everything might well have been ruined. Instead she stayed motionless for a long, long time, waiting for the creature to show itself again. When it did not, she began to relax a little. Whatever it was wasn’t all that big, and surely she would be able to frighten it away. Slowly, carefully, Tess sat up. As she did so, she could see that the furry thing was still there on the top of her quilt. In slowly dawning horror, she realised that it was not a small creature, but the paw of a very, very large one. She swung round, expecting to see the rest of the beast crouching on the floor beside her bed, but there was nothing there. And as she turned back, she knew. She lifted her hand, and there was no hand, just the great, brown paw lifting to her face to feel the long snout and the round, furry ears. Tess had turned into a bear.
    For a long time she stayed still. She had read about such things in fairy tales. They were usually caused by wicked spells or curses laid by witches or evil fairies. Tears of hopelessness rolled down her hairy cheeks and spilled on to the quilt, making a dark patch that widened and widened. She listened to the birds, wondering how they could seem so joyful when she felt so sad. She might have stayed there indefinitely, weeping a great stain into the quilt, were it not for the fact that bears find it uncomfortable to lie on their backs for so long.
    Her fingers would not work properly. The quilt snagged in her claws as she tried to push it off, but she managed to get herself disentangled and scrambled down on to the floor. It was surprising to find how comfortable a bear can be, and for a while she just ambled here and there around the room, getting accustomed to her strange limbs.
    After a time the sound of the birds and the fresh scent of the morning drew her to the window. On the third attempt, her clumsy paw caught the curtain and hoiked it to the side, and she stood on her hind legs and leant up against the windowsill, blinking in the bright light. The smell, the sound, the feeling of the fresh air in her nostrils was so delicious, it was almost magical. She was filled with delight at being a bear and she stretched her nose up towards the cool gap where the window was open. Just at that instant, however, she caught a scent, and then a glimpse, of the paper boy cycling down the road.
    As quickly as she could, Tess dropped back to the floor and away from the window. The horror of the situation returned. What on earth was going to happen to her? From the room beside hers, she heard her parents’ alarm clock ringing, and put her heavy paws up to her ears in dread. Any minute now she would hear her father padding along to the bathroom to wash and shave, and then he would pop his head around the door and say, ‘Rise and shine,’ or, ‘Show a leg.’ Sometimes he came in and drew the curtains. Sometimes he even sat down on her bed and chatted for a while before he went down and put on the kettle. But what was going to happen now? What would he do when he saw, instead of his girl, a brown bear?
    He was humming now in the bathroom as he shaved. Would her mother be more likely to understand? If she looked her carefully in the eye, would she recognise her own Tess?
    Tess shambled miserably around the room, feeling huge and heavy and clumsy. As she went by it, she knocked over the dolls’ house. The crash it made as it