Jasper Fforde - Early Riser

I handed her the Polaroid of her and Charles on the beach at Rhossilli and she gazed at the faded photo intently.

‘Those were happy days.’

‘For me, too’, I said, ‘there’ll always be the Gower.’

‘Yes,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘there’ll always be the Gower.’

She then smiled, kissed me on the cheek, and looked at her watch.

‘We’ve a train to catch. Cheerio, Charlie – and thank you.’

And that was it, although I think she might have remembered more as the years went on, as I suddenly started receiving cartes de bon hiber from her and Charles and the girls about five years later. I keep them in a shoebox under the bed to this day. Seven years later she and Charles let it be known through appropriate channels that they would be happy to work for RealSleep again, but I had a message sent that they had both discharged their duties in an exemplary manner, that the Global Hibernating Village was in part due to them, and no further contribution was needed.

Laura Strowger had to wait until the labs were open after Springrise to get the film developed, and the evidence, whilst certainly unusual and compelling, could also be open to interpretation. Not that it mattered; she retained her child option rights fully, without let or hindrance.

‘I think HiberTech had become such a toxic brand that they wanted to avoid all controversies,’ she told me at Summer Solstice celebrations, when Sector Twelve was green and verdant, a far cry from its Winter drabness, ‘and purchasing collateralised child options didn’t sit well with their improved corporate image.’

‘What about Treacle?’ I asked.

‘To him it’s all just profit and loss. Win some, lose some. He’s okay about it.’

Laura stayed in Sector Twelve and became a part of the team, along with Fodder, once he had completed his two-year sabbatical. We had no more trouble from the Farnesworths, and Laura went on to save my life two years later when I became trapped under a Sno-Trac near Llanigon, for which she was highly commended.

As for me, I carried on at the Sector Twelve Winter Consul’s office, and within five years I was made Chief Consul, the youngest ever. Sister Zygotia was extremely proud, and when I visited St Granata’s on Fat Thursday, even Mother Fallopia offered me a grudging comment of admiration and a box of Maltesers.

‘To share,’ she added.

To this day my washing is always mysteriously folded overnight.

‘It’s a courtesy,’ Gretl told me when we met at Springrise Plus Two, the Consuls disbanded, the snow and ice thawed, the population returned to life, hungry and skinny and confused. We’d replaced Moody and Roscoe and Suzy with a new RailTech team, and the first Spring train left the platform at Talgarth only 5.6 seconds late – impressive but only enough to come twelfth in the Mid-Wales Springrise Punctuality Championships.

Without Morphenox, everyone went back to dreaming from the next season, and the general consensus felt that it was better this way. Winter Wastage is up, but there are no more Nightwalkers, and the government is investing heavily in sound nutritional strategies to aid weight gain in the run up to Winter. HiberTech still conduct research into a side-effect free version of Morphenox, but so far nothing. Don Hector guarded his work well and he kept the secret only in his dreaming mind, something that is now shared with me.

I will have to consider carefully what I do with the knowledge.

Gretl is always there ahead of me when I dream myself onto Rhosilli beach, playing with her beach ball accompanied by the familiar gurgle of a laugh now firmly etched into my mind as I sit near an orange-and-red parasol of spectacular size and splendour. These days, there is no one beneath it – the previous incumbents now happy enough not to dream of times when they were.

‘All that I am is now within you,’ said Gretl as we watched the sun set over Worm’s Head, the waves beating the hull of the Argentinian Queen like a drum, ‘don’t be dying on me or anything – finding an agreeable host is harder than you might imagine.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Good,’ said Gretl, ‘now: what did you learn in your first Winter?’

I paused for thought.

‘I could talk about loyalty and the cold, Tunnocks Teacakes and the desolate beauty. Of the code that glues us winterers together, or the loneliness of the souls who call it home. But I think the one thing that struck me is that the Winter isn’t a season – it’s a calling.’

‘I concur,’ said Gretl with a smile, and the sun set over the Gower.

Again.

My thanks firstly to you, dear sweet reader, for sticking with me during what I now call my creative hiatus of 2014–2016. That you are still here now (and have presumably finished the book if you are reading this) is testament to your loyalty, for which I am immensely grateful. I can only apologise profusely that it happened (I’m still trying to figure out why) and hope to return to the year-on-year books that I managed to do in the past.

Thanks also go to the estimable Carolyn Mays at Hodder, who never lost faith in my ability to one day deliver another book, and was a pillar of strength throughout. Similar thanks also to Andrea Schulz and Allison Lorentzen at Penguin, and special gratitude indeed belongs to the ever-supportive Will Francis, ably assisted by the team at Janklow & Nesbit.

John Wooten once again agreed to my: ‘yes, Jasper, it’s vaguely plausible’ fact-checking regime and offered vital help and assistance with the theoretical functioning of the HotPots and Vortex Cannon.

Josh Landy in the book is actually a real person, and a jolly splendid one too. The part of ‘Josh’ was auctioned off in the book to support our local school and the Hay and Talgarth Refugees group, of which many thanks for his generosity. I wanted Josh to be recognisable as such rather than simply ‘Your Name Here’ and he entered into the spirit of the exercise with all due gusto, and much of the dialogue and descriptive prose attached to Josh’s character is his – my thanks for making it all so easy.

The frontispiece was done by Bill Mudron and Dylan Meconis, and a jolly fine job was done, as usual, and at lightning speed – they can be contacted at www.billmudron.comand www.dylanmeconis.comand are open for commissions. My thanks also to Catherine Affleck for undertaking the infinitely subtle job of designing logos for HiberTech and the Consul service. More of her work and contact details can be found at www.catherineruthdesign.com.

It only remains for me to thank Simon for our Thursday lunches, all my children for the never ending joy they continue to bring me, and Ozzy, whose sharply focused and never-ending enthusiasm for stick fetching has been a source of huge inspiration.

The Eyre Affair

Lost in a Good Book

The Well of Lost Plots

Something Rotten

First Among Sequels

One of Our Thursdays is Missing

The Woman Who Died a Lot

The Big Over Easy

The Fourth Bear

Shades of Grey

The Last Dragonslayer

The Song of the Quarkbeast

The Eye of Zoltar