"Girls, guess where you’re going this weekend?!" shouted Mum from the hallway.

Amelia and Lily stopped what they were doing, swirling and twirling around the living room with scarves and bits of tinsel from last year’s Christmas tree. They stood facing each other, eyes wide and twinkling, panting from their dance adventure, until Lily, in a soft Lily-whisper said:

"...Uncle Paul’s..."

Uncle Paul was in fact not their uncle at all, but their cousin. Though, to the girls, he was their uncle and friend, a man full of fun and adventure.

Lily jumped on to the sofa and shouted excitedly "Maybe we’ll be Piwates! Maybe Giwaffes, maybe even Elephunks"

Amelia looked at her little sister jumping on the sofa, "Lily, maybe we’ll find more treasure!"

Lily launched herself off the sofa, landing directly in front of Amelia, and, with the tips of their noses touching, and eyes as wide as could be, said "You are the Tweasurefinder, Ine am the Doryteller, we will have gweat adventures!"

"Yes" said Mum as she entered the room, paintbrush in hand, rag over her shoulder. "You’re going to Uncle Paul’s for the WHOLE weekend!"

The girls screamed and shouted, once again spinning, twirling, whirling around the room in a flurry of over-excited bursts of "Yayyyyy" and "Uncle Paul, Uncle Paul!"

"So", said Mum, "I need you to both go upstairs and pack your bags. Amelia, I want you to help Lily pack her things. Ok?"

"Because Ine only 5! Ine only a yittle girl." said Lily nodding with certainty and a half-sad sigh.

The girls went upstairs, stopping on the landing. Amelia slowly turned to Lily and whispered gently into her ear. Lily’s eyes narrowed a little, then she pushed her shoulders back, and tiptoed into her bedroom. Amelia watched as her sister did this, and smiled to herself, then, glancing back behind her towards Lily’s room, she hurriedly walked into her own bedroom to pack.

After what couldn’t have even been more than 2 minutes, Lily skipped into Amelia’s bedroom, rucksack on her back, floppy summer hat on top of her wild golden hair. It was Autumn, so Amelia decided not to inform Lily that a Summer hat was unnecessary, besides, they were going to Uncle Paul’s - and the sooner they were packed, the sooner they’d be downstairs, the sooner they’d be at Uncle Paul’s, and the sooner they’d be having their adventures.

Amelia did, however, think it wise to check that Lily that had everything she needed; enough changes of clothes, toothbrush, and her Cwuddlebunch cuddly toy. Of course, Lily also had several other random things with her, all of them small, and all of them in various pockets; a smooth, flat pebble she’d found in the park, a tiny blue pencil she’d found on their front step, and half-inked postage stamp. She was forever collecting small things, or ’pweasings’ as she called them, and she always kept them in her pockets, reacting as excitedly as when she first found them, the next time she put her hand in a pocket. Again, in the interest of getting their next adventure underway as soon as possible, Amelia said nothing and smiled at her little sister, who was now quite happily humming a little tune to herself.

The girls were ready for their next adventure...

The girls stood with their Mum at the tube station, the sun shining brightly in the clear blue spring sky overhead. They had been waiting forever, Lily thought to herself as she swung from the railings near the station’s entrance.

"Mummy?" Lily queried "How long have we been waiting?"

Lily’s Mummy looked at her, unsurprised by yet another question from one of her daughter’s, they were always asking them.

"Almost fifteen minutes, but we left the house..."

"Uncle Paul! Uncle Paul!" shouted Amelia, excitedly interrupting her Mum. Uncle Paul had just turned the corner in front of them, and was now mere moments away from the girls.

Uncle Paul was, Amelia thought to herself, about the same height as all the other men she knew, all the Misters from school, Frank the postman, and Charlie the butcher in their local supermarket. His hair was as dark as his eyes, which was very dark - like chocolate sauce, maybe even gravy, and he almost always had an usually wide smile on his expressive, kind face, especially when he was with his girls. Soon enough he was standing beside them and the sisters were scrambling for welcoming hugs and cuddles.

As the girls waved goodbye to their Mummy for the weekend, the train, their train could be heard rattling its way along the track. They ran through the barrier, travel cards beeping as they did, up the stairs, and jumped through the closing doors. Just in time. The train juddered and jolted its way along the line, the girls announcing each station in time with the automatic announcer, they especially liked ’Willesden Green’, and the grand way the announcer said it. Amelia had always wondered why he, the train announcer, said it that way. Was there a palace there? Perhaps it was the site of some vitally important part of history? She would have to ask Uncle Paul the next time she thought about it, but for now she sat back in her seat counting the number of stops and calculating the journey time until they reached their destination.

After one change, onto the Central Line, and a little bit of walking, the three travellers, or adventurers, as Uncle Paul called them, were finally at their destination.

Postman’s Park.

Lily proclaimed that she, like Amelia, had never heard of this place before, unsure as to why they were even there. She, in her particularly inquisitive Lily-esque way, asked if it was owned by postmen or a park only for postmen to visit? If so, surely they shouldn’t be there - that would be very naughty, she thought to herself. Uncle Paul explained that it was a park where, in the olden days, postmen who worked nearby would come to eat their lunch. Everything, it seemed to Lily, happened in ’the olden days’.

Uncle Paul stopped at a spot in the middle of the largest grassy area, and pulled out a small chequered blanket from his backpack, spreading it out in front of them.

As the three of them sat down, Uncle Paul began unpacking various foods from his bag; a selection of sandwiches - ham and salad, cheese and tomato, salmon and cucumber, as well as sausage rolls, cubes of strong cheddar cheese, small cakes and orange juice - Uncle Paul’s picnics were always the best, thought Amelia as she sat eating.

Amelia looked around the park, and thought about how it was unlike any other park she had ever seen or been to before. It was much smaller than the others, and much tidier, with beautiful colourful flowers, and benches scattered around. But, the most obvious difference, she thought, was that at one end there stood a long wall covered in tiles, some new, most old, all with people’s names and dates on them.

"Uncle Paul?" she said "What is that wall for?"

Uncle Paul brushed some crumbs off his top, swallowed a gulp of orange juice, and replied "That wall is what we’re here to see"

"But, what is it?" asked Amelia, who now stood and fully faced the wall. "It’s a wall of remembrance.." said Uncle Paul "...a wall where the names of people who have died while trying to save other people are written to ensure their sacrifice is not forgotten"

"Oh" said Amelia "But, if you die, you can’t see your family again" her tone had changed from one of intrigue, to one of concern and confusion. Paul, knowing that she would react this way, had come prepared, indeed, the whole purpose of this visit was to talk to them about this wall and what it meant to him and their family.

Lily, who had, up until now, been laying down contently humming another song to herself, sat up and stopped humming. She looked at Uncle Paul, then at her big sister "but, if you save sumb-one, why doesint sumb-one save you?!"

Uncle Paul stopped and thought for a moment, surprised by Lily’s clarity of thought, and pleased with the fact that she saw the world in such an uncompromisingly fair light. Do right, be done right by. 1:1. Reciprocation. He searched for a response that would both answer her question, and enable her to continue believing that society, for all its ills, was generally a just society.

The answer came more easily than he had initially thought it would.

"If you can help, you must help" he said "that’s what my Grandad always taught me" Lily frowned, and opened her mouth to ask another question "Lily..." Amelia said "sometimes we have to do something just because it’s the right thing to do." Lily still looked unconvinced.

"Like at school" Amelia continued "when you were the only person who saw Robbie steal a sticker from Mrs Watson’s desk. What did you do?"

"I tolded Mrs Watson" Lily replied "fecause otherwise he would have won Sticker Champion of the Week, and that wouldint be fair on Carl, fecause he worked weally hard this week!"

"So" said Amelia, as Uncle Paul watched in fascination at the dialogue between the two sisters "telling Mrs Watson didn’t mean you would win, or that you’d get a sticker, and could have maybe meant that Robbie would be horrible to you" Lily’s eyes were wide with anticipation, aware, from the tone of Amelia’s voice, that they were reaching the conclusion, the climax of their conversation "Yes" she said.

"That, is helping because you can help, because it’s the right thing to do" said Amelia, each punctuated and delivered with the confidence of a well-travelled public speaker. At seven years old.

"Oh. Ok then" said Lily "can we get an ice cream?"

Amelia looked at Uncle Paul, they both laughed. "After I show you what I brought you both here to see" he said, and started packing the empty food containers away.

Soon enough the three of them had tidied everything away and were walking towards the wall of tiles. When they reached the wall, Amelia let out a hushed "Wow" at its size, from where they had been sitting it looked big, but nothing like this! Lily liked the patterns on the tiles, and the fact that they were all different - she didn’t like it when everything was the same, it wasn’t as interesting or as fun.

They walked along the front of the wall looking at the various names, dates, and descriptions of the events that led to those names being there, and with each one the girls had a different question, a why, a what, a when - some of the tiles, or ’plaques’ as Uncle Paul had called them, were very, very old. Probably from the ’olden days’ Lily thought to herself.

Uncle Paul came to a slow stop, the girls holding his hands. "Now, this is what I brought you here to see" he said, gently squeezing their hands. The girls looked up at the plaque he was facing. Amelia read it aloud to Lily, Uncle Paul helped her with certain words:

"George Robertson. 1941 to 1989. Sacrificed self to save Margot Catrell & son. Traffic accident. Plaque commissioned & dedicated by the Catrell Estate, 1993."

The girls looked at Uncle Paul, both aware that this plaque had some meaning to him, but both unsure as to what that meaning was exactly.

"George Robertson" he said "was my Grandad, mine and Mummy’s Grandad." Lily’s grip tightened a little in his palm, aware that his Grandad dying must make him very sad, the idea of her Grandads dying, made her very sad, partly because she would miss them so much, but also because then she wouldn’t be the little girl who, unlike her class mates, still had two living, breathing Grandads.

Amelia, on the other hand, was quietly thinking, taking in all that she had read and Uncle Paul had said. Then, she spoke "So, your and Mummy’s Grandad died, but also saved two people? And he died because he saw people who needed help, decided he could, and did?"

"Precisely!" replied Uncle Paul, happy that his earlier conversation about helping people hadn’t been forgotten. "But, weren’t you sad?" asked Amelia "Oh, I was very, very sad" he replied "sometimes I still am, but not often. Especially since he saved two lives, that makes it a little bit easier"

The girls and their Uncle stood quietly for a moment, then Uncle Paul asked if they had any questions. Lily, usually being the first to speak, asked how old he was when his grandad died (11), what they did when his grandad looked after him (went for walks, gardening, talking and storytelling), and whether or not it was now time for ice cream (it was)

It was only then, that Uncle Paul realised that Amelia’s grip had become considerably more tight, and that she wasn’t looking in the same direction as he and Lily, but was instead looking at something beyond them, to their right. He turned to look in the same direction, and sure enough found what had transfixed Amelia.

About 10 meters away from them, stood a lady of about 70, alongside her a younger man, presumably her son from the way he was holding her. She had reached out and was gently, slowing, stroking the surface of the plaque in front of which they standing. Silent, soft tears slowly wetted her wrinkled blushered cheeks.

Amelia’s eyes were wide and staring, fixed on the lady, but her expression was not one of excitement, no, it was one of sadness and then of intrigue. "Ami?" said Uncle Paul, lightly wiggling her hand, she didn’t move, not a blink, not a breath, nothing.

Uncle Paul tried again, this time saying her full name and slightly louder. Still nothing, which was very much unlike her. Now, Lily tried. She stood in front of her big sister and pulled as many funny faces as she could think of, as she pulled them, she chanted Amelia’s name in various tones and voices. Amelia suddenly blinked and her attention was once again back on the park, her little sister, and her Uncle.

"Where did you go?" asked Uncle Paul, confused by what had just happened - Amelia was the sort of child who always answered an adult, or, indeed, anyone who called her name or spoke to her, she was known for her politeness.

"I was just looking at that lady" Amelia said, her gaze shifting slightly away from her Uncle and once again towards the lady "she looks so sad, and I haven’t ever, ever, seen someone cry so much, so quietly"

Uncle Paul knelt down beside his nieces, and pulled them into a tight hug, they reciprocated. "Sometimes" he said "memories, even very old ones, can make you very sad, other times they can make you laugh so much that you’re bent over double. It’s the same with places,  sometimes, going to a place that reminds you of someone can make you very sad, other times it can make you happy, remembering the good times and fun you had with that person"

He looked at the two girls, aware that this had been a more emotional, more serious day out than they usually had together. "Right, who wants ice cream?"

As they walked hand in hand through and out of the park on their way to the ice cream shop, Uncle Paul listened as Lily listed all of the flavours she liked, including those he, nor anyone else had ever heard of. Amelia was still, Uncle Paul could see, a little distracted by the lady, and was, every few feet they walked, peering back over her shoulder to see her, until eventually she was entirely out of sight. Once she was, Amelia soon became her usual self again, and, like her sister, started listing her favourite ice creams.

By the time they got on their last train home, back to Uncle Paul’s, the girls were exhausted, their faces, especially Lily’s, sticky with the remnants of their "super duper lovely jubbley ice cream" as Amelia had called it. The three of them sat, silent, for a while, until Uncle Paul perked up "Tell us a story Lily!" Lily looked at him and thought for what must have been just short of a whole second "Ok" she said "Ine will tell you a dory, because Ine am la Doryteller!"

She stood from her seat, and, holding on to the nearest yellow pole, she prepared herself for her role. You see, the thing with Lily and stories is that she doesn’t just tell them with words, she acts them, expressing that which she wants, needs to convey on her face, with her arms, sometimes even her legs, and with her tone and pitch.

Amelia and Uncle Paul both sat up, as they always did, as everyone did when Lily was about to tell a story, there was something about the way she told them that made you listen more closely and carefully than you usually would - that, and the fact that she herself demanded it, ever since Mrs Watson had told her class that it was the proper way to sit when listening to or watching someone perform.

With her audience in place and fully attentive, she began "Once upon a time, in the olden days, there was a Pwincess, and there was a DWAGON..."

Lily’s story continued for a good 5 minutes, and, as with all of her stories, definitely didn’t end in the way anyone would ever imagine it would. "That was excellent Lily, one of your best ever!" said Amelia, proud of her little sister.

"Wow, fanks Ami" said a very proudly smiling Lily "Shall I dell you another one?" she asked, hoping the answer would be in the affirmative.

"WILLESDEN GREEN" announced the train’s automated voice "Ooo, we’re nearly home, we’re nearly home" exclaimed Lily excitedly. "We are indeed" said Uncle Paul "So, maybe another story tomorrow, yeah?" Lily nodded in agreement, already thinking about what her story would include, a Dwagon obviously, all of her stories contained a Dwagon.

By the time they’d got home, had a bath, a cup of hot chocolate each - with marshmallows, Lily insisted, it was 9 o’clock and the girls were ready for bed. Uncle Paul carried Lily, whose eyes were heavy with sleep, even if her mind was alive with images of Dwagons, ice cream, and who knows what else, up to bed, tucked her in, and gave her a goodnight kiss on the forehead.

When he got back downstairs to Amelia, he found her standing at the back room window, looking out at the night sky. He went and stood beside her, and stared out into the darkness of the autumn night sky. "What do you see Ami?" he asked "Lots of teeny tiny stars, but even more black than stars" she replied, continuing to look out into the night.

"I saw something earlier too" she said, now looking up at and holding eye contact with Uncle Paul. "How do you mean? When, earlier?" responded Uncle Paul, confused.

"When we were at the wall at the park..." Amelia replied, as if he should have known that. "Was it the lady you were looking at?" asked Uncle Paul, growing more and more unsure as to what Amelia meant by "saw something".

Amelia paused momentarily, then "Yes, but not really the actual lady...there was something around her, bright like stars, but different colours" Uncle Paul looked at his young niece who was looking at him earnestly, hoping that he would have some sort of answer to her unspoken question.

"Well" he said "maybe it was a trick of the light? Like the rainbows we make when we spray water in summer?" Amelia shook her head with a certainty that uneased him. "Hmm, maybe it was some flying insects or something like that?" he was already running out of ideas. Amelia shook her head with the same certainty and determination as she had before.

Hoping to lighten the mood and Amelia’s deeply furrowed brow, he asked "Fairies? It could have definitely been Fairies!" and gave Amelia a little nudge, but she didn’t giggle the way she usually would. "It was like little balls of glitter, all bright white, silver, and purple, all shiny, all moving around her, twisting and turning" she replied, her eyes wide in acknowledgment of the strangeness of what she was describing.

Uncle Paul’s mind was racing in the search for a solution that would put Amelia’s clearly concerned mind to rest, while also satisfying her thirst for knowledge and sense of intrigue - no other child, that he had ever known anyway, had ever asked so many questions, especially not questions that were, oftentimes, so mentally or emotionally complex, or ’deep’ as a family friend, Brian, had once described them.

Before he had a chance to speak, Amelia said "I see them around Lily sometimes. They dance around her, usually when she has been playing a pretend game on her own" This concerned Uncle Paul, and he wasn’t quite sure why. "Hmm" he said, attempting to sound more adult and certain than usual "I’m not sure what they are, but I’m sure they’re not going to hurt you or Amelia, or the lady in the park", but, he wasn’t sure at all, there was a niggling sense of something deep in the back of his mind, an almost gut feeling, its existence unexplainable, for an adult.

Amelia looked at him, his eyes distant in thought, and put her hand on his "Uncle Paul" she said, bringing his mind back to the present situation "I should go to bed, it is very late", so, he picked her up in his arms, carried her up to the bedroom where Lily was sleeping and put her to bed.

He stood there in the silent darkness of the room for a moment thinking about what Amelia had seen, why it concerned him so much, especially when he himself hadn’t even seen it. What was it? Was it truly real or something she had imagined? The way in which she spoke about made him think not, there is a way a child, especially Amelia, talks about something they have imagined, an almost playfulness just beneath the surface, usually detectable by either tone, expression, or mannerism, this was not like that.

As he closed the bedroom door, something about the sound of the door handle clicking closed brought an old memory to the fore, a memory of his childhood, of a time when his Grandad told him a story and showed him a painting. He stood by the door for almost three minutes, frozen by the sense induced memory.

Then, reaching across the hallway, he opened a door on the opposite side, revealing a wall mounted ladder, which he climbed up, into the attic.