Tessa carried her favourite blanket to the cottage table. It was blue-teal, with little green leaves that seemed to whisper when she shook it out. She liked its soft edge and the way it tucked around her paws.

But today there was a small hole. Through it, Tessa could see the wood of the table. “That bit is not supposed to be there,” she whispered. She held the blanket still, as if moving might make the hole bigger.

Grandmother sat beside her. She did not take the blanket away. “Would you like some help, or a little time to think?” she asked.

“A little time,” said Tessa. Grandmother placed a spare blanket on the armchair. There would be something warm for bedtime either way. Tessa stroked a green leaf on the old cloth. “I want to keep this one. But I do not know how to mend it.”

Bo the badger came to visit before the evening grew dark. He saw the hole, then looked at Tessa rather than pulling at the cloth.

“Would you like an idea?” he asked. Tessa nodded. “We could choose a patch,” said Bo. “Grandmother could sew it on.” He waited while Tessa thought. “I would like to look at the pieces first,” she said. It felt good to have a next step that was only looking.

Grandmother opened her basket and laid three soft patches on a mat: a rust-red square, a sage-green oval and a yellow star. Then she closed the basket again. The sewing things were for her to use.

“The green one would be quiet,” said Tessa. “The red one would look like a little door.” She turned the yellow star in her paws. “This one looks as if it has a story.” She laid it over the hole. “May we try the star?”

With Tessa’s permission, Grandmother mended the blanket. Tessa and Bo watched from the other side of the table. A small line of stitches joined yellow cloth to blue-teal cloth. Soon the hole was covered and the blanket felt whole again.

One point of the star leaned a little towards Bo. “We can adjust it, or leave it like that,” said Grandmother. Tessa looked for a while. “Leave it,” she decided. “Perhaps it is listening to him.”

Bo brought out his soft grey felt mouse. “May Mouse visit?” Tessa made a little space beside the patch. The mouse stood on the blanket and looked up at the yellow point.

“Once there was a mouse who wanted to visit a star,” Tessa began. Bo gave the mouse a tiny wave. Grandmother added a thought: “The star asked whether the visitor needed a place to rest.” They could imagine the visit together. Their story did not need to be grand. One mouse, one star and one welcome were enough.

Bo’s next idea turned into a yawn. “I cannot think of what happens next,” he said. “You can listen instead,” Tessa told him. She let Mouse sit beside the star. For a little while, that was all that happened.

Soon Bo said goodnight and went home. Tessa folded her mustard vest on the chair and set Mouse beside it. Grandmother helped her settle into bed. The yellow patch came too, carried on a very familiar blanket.

Lamplight warmed the yellow star. Beyond the window, the garden was quiet. Tessa could feel the blanket’s old soft edge against her paws.

“It is not exactly as it was,” she said. “No,” Grandmother agreed. “Would you like to tell me what it is like now?” Tessa smiled. “Still my blanket. With a place for one more story.” Grandmother sat beside her without asking for the story to begin. Mouse could wait on the chair. The star could wait too. Tonight, everyone could rest.