William came from China to England with Mum, Dad, and his baby sister, Mei. The aeroplane went whoosh through the night, and tiny lights glowed below like sleepy stars.
William had one important job. He held Mei’s sparkling dragon rattle, the one that sang ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling whenever she wiggled her toes.
“Keep it safe, please,” Mum whispered. William nodded and tucked the rattle into his woolly hat, making a soft little cave. Safe as safe, he whispered back.
⁂
In England, the sky was pale and drizzly. Rain went pit-pat on the taxi window, and William saw a red bus rumble by with a brmm-brmm-brmm.
At last, the taxi stopped outside Grammy and Gramps’s house. The door opened wide. “William!” cried Grammy. “Mei!” cried Gramps. Arms went round and round them, warm as blankets.
But then Mei rubbed her eyes. Her little mouth made a wobbly “mmm.” William reached into the baby bag.
No rattle.
Oh no! He checked the side pocket. Zip, zip. He checked under the blanket. Flap, flap. He even checked his shoe by the door, and his sock went squelch from one rainy puddle.
“I had it,” said William. His fingers opened and closed. “I really did.”
⁂
Gramps crouched beside him. “Let’s listen,” he said. So everybody went quiet.
The house creaked a cosy creak. The clock ticked tick-tock. Somewhere, very softly, came a mysterious ting.
William sat up straight. Ting-a-ling.
“That’s it!” he said. He ran to the hall. Not too fast. Just fast enough for bedtime feet.
There on the peg hung his woolly hat, round and lumpy. William lifted it carefully. Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling! Out tumbled the dragon rattle onto the rug.
Mei kicked both feet. Grammy laughed into her hands. Gramps tapped his nose. “A dragon in a hat,” he said. “Well, well!”
William handed Mei the rattle. She grabbed it with both soft fists and shook it gently. Ting-a-ling. Ting-a-ling. The room seemed to breathe out.
⁂
Later, Grammy warmed milk, and Gramps pulled the curtains closed. Outside, England rain whispered shhh on the windows.
Little dragon, fold your wings, sleep while the silver raindrop sings.
William curled beside Mei on the sofa. He told her, “We came a long, long way. Over seas and clouds. And now we are here.”
Mei blinked slowly. The rattle gave one last tiny ting. Grammy tucked the blanket in, Gramps turned the lamp low, and William’s woolly hat sat on the peg, keeping no secrets at all.
William smiled so wide his cheeks rounded. Then he closed his eyes, safe between China memories and England rain.
