One Wish (7 page)

‘How long will you be in Spinney Wicket?’

‘Until Pa gets bored, I suppose,’ said Ratty. ‘We never stay in any place for very long.’

‘You just go wherever and whenever he decides?’ Tanya asked. She couldn’t imagine living such a life, travelling on a whim. It sounded romantic, like something out of a fairy tale.

Ratty smiled faintly. ‘He says we go wherever the wind is blowing.’

‘It must be an adventure.’

‘Sometimes it is,’ he agreed. ‘Other times, when the roof is leaking and the wind is howling all night, making the van rock, I think how nice it must be to have a proper home. To be able to keep the friends I make.’

‘Do you make many?’ Tanya asked. She found this difficult to believe, given how rude Ratty had been when they had first met that morning. Perhaps she had just caught him off guard. He had been speaking to a tree after all.

‘A few,’ said Ratty. He sounded sad all of a sudden. ‘But none of them will remember me.’

She frowned. ‘I’m sure they do.’

Ratty opened his mouth to reply, but was distracted by something on the shelf above their heads. He reached up behind the photograph of himself and his father, and withdrew a small, red envelope that was tucked behind it.

‘This must be from Pa,’ he muttered. ‘I didn’t see it before.’

Tanya stared again at the man in the picture, but then found her attention drawn to a glass jar next to the photograph. She hadn’t paid much attention to it before as its contents were so nondescript, but now she found there was something about the jar that was bothering her. It was jammed full of odds and ends: a page torn from a book, a girl’s hairslide, a ribbon, a struck match, and lots of other things that were jumbled up and which she couldn’t see properly.

‘What’s all that stuff?’ she asked.

Ratty looked up from the envelope. There was a little crease between his eyebrows. ‘That? Oh, nothing. Just stuff that’s been lying around the van. Pa hangs on to things in case they come in handy.’

Tanya peered at the jar. There was something about Ratty’s voice she didn’t believe. ‘How can a struck match be useful?’

‘Exactly!’ Ratty laughed, but it sounded false. ‘That’s what I always say to him. It’s just junk. It needs throwing out.’

Tanya’s eyes narrowed. In such a small living space, where everything was so neat and ordered, and where space was so tight, it seemed very unlikely that a jar of such useless items would be kept.
That
was what bothered her about it. She pondered whether to voice her thoughts to Ratty, but decided against it. There didn’t seem much point and, besides, something odd was happening.

Turpin had sidled across the table and was now gazing up at her. It was making Tanya nervous.

‘What’s the matter with her?’ she asked Ratty. ‘Why is she looking at me like that?’

‘She likes your hair,’ Ratty explained. ‘She just told me.’

‘She did?’ Tanya stared back at Turpin doubtfully. The fairy nodded and gave a sickly sweet grin, revealing wicked little teeth.

‘She wants to touch it,’ Ratty said.

‘Er . . . all right,’ said Tanya. She did not really like the idea of that at all, but, since it was the first nice thing Turpin had said or done towards her, she felt she should allow it. Perhaps she could make a friend of her after all.

The words had barely left her lips before Turpin scampered up her arm and burrowed her face into Tanya’s shoulder. Tanya froze, stiff as a poker, as Turpin ran her fingers through the long, chestnut-coloured hair.

‘Now you remember what I said earlier, about teeth, and never letting a fairy have them?’ Ratty said.

‘Yes,’ Tanya said. She was distracted now, for Turpin was giving her hair a good sniff. She hoped the fairy wasn’t about to start chewing on it the way she did Ratty’s.

‘Well, it’s the same with hair,’ Ratty continued. ‘Hair, teeth, fingernails. They’re part of you and can be used in magic. Powerful magic. Putting tangles in your hair or making it stand up on end is easy if they’ve stolen a bit of it.’

‘But Turpin can’t use magic any more, right?’

‘Right.’ Ratty twisted the envelope between his fingers, turning it over and over, but not opening it. He seemed troubled.

In the next instant, there was a sharp pain on the back of Tanya’s neck, so piercing it felt almost like a bite. Turpin leaped back to Ratty, cackling.

‘Ouch!’ Tanya yelped. She rubbed at the tender spot. ‘She pinched me! Why did she do that?’

‘Turps!’ Ratty exclaimed. ‘That was a nasty trick. Say you’re sorry.’

Turpin buried her face in Ratty’s shoulder, her body shaking with silent laughter. ‘Shan’t!’ she said, her voice muffled.

Ratty gave Tanya another apologetic look, then his expression became serious. He was still turning the envelope over in his hands, unopened. Tanya got the feeling he was waiting until he was alone to read it and sensed she had outstayed her welcome. She glanced at her watch. She had been out for hours now and her mother was probably starting to worry. She got to her feet.

‘I should be going,’ she said. ‘Thank you for telling me about fairies. I’m sure it’ll be useful.’ She hesitated. ‘Goodbye, Turpin.’

Turpin stuck out her tongue.

‘Don’t take too much notice of her,’ said Ratty. ‘She’s rotten to everyone, even Pa sometimes.’ He scratched his messy, black hair and started to get up. ‘I’ll walk you back.’

Tanya shook her head. ‘I can go by myself. I remember the way.’

The sun was still warm when she stepped outside the van. She collected Oberon, then shielded her eyes from the dazzling light coming through the trees. Ratty watched her silently, the red envelope poking out of his shirt pocket.

‘Will I see you again tomorrow?’ she asked.

‘I’m sure you will,’ Ratty answered, but again there was something about his voice that was odd. A tinge of sadness almost. ‘I’ll be around. By the castle or on the pier somewhere.’

‘I’ll look for you,’ said Tanya.

She set off, heading towards the sun. She passed the stables in the distance and soon reached the river. She crossed the bridge quickly, wanting Nessie Needleteeth safely behind her. All the while she pondered the strange afternoon spent with Ratty, and wondered what the red envelope contained. She thought of Turpin and the trick she had played, pretending to like Tanya’s hair just so she could be spiteful and pinch her.

Her temper flared at the memory and she found herself stamping heavily over the grass, even kicking a few dandelions when she saw them. It made her feel better. Very soon, though, the anger ebbed away and, by the time she had reached the road leading back to the holiday cottage, Tanya was finding it hard to remember what she had been angry about at all.

6

The Telltale Twitch

‘R
ATTY?’ SAID HER MOTHER, ONE EYEBROW raised. ‘What kind of a name is Ratty?’

‘A nickname.’ Tanya ate another forkful of mushy peas and stabbed at a chip on her plate. ‘I think he said his proper name was . . . Harry? Or was it Howard?’ Try as she might, she simply couldn’t recall what Ratty had told her when he’d first introduced himself.

‘Is this Ratty another one of your imaginary friends?’

‘I’m not making him up!’ Tanya exploded. She put her cutlery down and pressed her hands to her forehead. ‘I met him on the pier . . .’ She trailed off. ‘I think.’

Her mother sighed. ‘You only met him this afternoon or so you say. It shouldn’t be that difficult to remember, if you were telling the truth.’

‘I’m not lying!’ Tanya snapped. She was beginning to feel worried now. What was the matter with her? Why was she having such trouble remembering the events of the day clearly? She remembered Ratty and what he looked like . . . and there had been a fairy, too, though obviously she couldn’t tell that part to her mother.
That must be it
, she thought angrily. The fairy had done something to her, muddled her memory somehow.

‘The problem with being a liar, Tanya, is that you have to have a good memory.’ Her mother was cross now. ‘It’s much harder to remember something that didn’t happen than something that did.’ Her voice was clipped and her cheeks and nose were starting to turn pink. ‘You’ve been out for hours, and all I’m getting is vague, wishy-washy explanations of where you’ve been and who you’ve been with.’ She eyed her daughter critically. ‘You’re covered in gnat bites, and don’t think I haven’t noticed the state of your dress. That was new on today and you’ve lost one of the buttons already.’

Tanya lifted her hand to the collar of her dress. There had been three daisy-shaped buttons there this morning. Now there were only two and a hanging thread where the third had been.
Strange
, she thought.
When had that happened?

‘I’m not lying,’ she repeated quietly. Not this time. Lying was something she’d grown very good at over the years. She’d had to be. Being honest got her nowhere and, besides, how else could she explain some of the things the fairies had done? They were simply too bizarre. ‘Really. I’m telling the truth. I can’t remember.’

Her mother’s expression softened. ‘You do look a bit peaky. Perhaps you have a temperature; you’ve been in the sun all day.’ She held a hand to Tanya’s forehead. ‘You don’t feel too hot.’ She looked worried suddenly. ‘You didn’t take anything to eat or drink from anyone, did you?’

Tanya shook her head. ‘No. I mean, I don’t think so.’ Again, there was a worrying gap in her memory. ‘I drank some apple juice in a café on the pier.’ Strange that she could remember the earlier part of the day, and later, when she’d returned to the cottage. She and her mother had taken an evening stroll past the pier into the town centre and returned with fish and chips. She remembered all that well enough. It was just around Ratty and that horrible fairy of his that things got sketchy. She got up from the table, trying to smile. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve probably had too much sun. I’ll be fine in the morning.’

Her mother nodded, looking only a little reassured.

Tanya went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. That fairy of Ratty’s must be responsible for this. It was the only explanation. She pursed her lips as she took off her dress and pulled on her bathrobe. She’d give them both a piece of her mind if she saw them again.

As she threw her dress over the back of the chair, something landed on the wooden floor with a light ping and rolled under the bed. She knelt down and picked up a rusty, brown nail. At the foot of the chair there were also two small packets of salt. They hadn’t been there a minute ago. Surely these things hadn’t fallen out of her pocket? Where had they come from? She shook her head in confusion and threw the items in the waste-paper basket, then headed to the bathroom, eager to wash away the day’s sweat and stickiness.

Ten minutes later, she’d pulled on her pyjamas and slid between the cool, crisp sheets, but her uneasiness wouldn’t leave her. As she lay in the darkness, drifting into a doze, she thought she heard muffled muttering and scratches from beneath the bed. Several times she jerked awake, but only to a silent room and her own troubled imaginings. A sliver of yellow light was visible underneath the bedroom door and she could hear her mother moving about. It must be earlier than it felt. Eventually, a deeper sleep came. It didn’t last.

When she woke again, the light beneath the door had gone. It must be late now, for her mother had gone to bed. Only a shard of moonlight lit the room through a crack in the curtains. In that thin, silver shard, dark shadows moved and, before Tanya was even properly awake, her eyelids gave a telltale twitch. It was enough to jolt her from sleep completely.

She sat up, rubbing her twitching eyes. She could smell it now, too, on the breeze from the open window: the earthy, outdoorsy smell that gave them away.

There were fairies in the room.

She pulled the bedclothes closer, her heart starting to thud. Her eyes darted around the room, seeking out every dark corner. Shadows flickered and a low, snorting snuffling sounded from underneath the bed. She half ducked as something swooped past her face, skimming the tip of her nose. When she looked up again, a large, black raven had perched on the end of the bed, its scaly claws grasping the wooden frame. Next to it stood two small figures, both male. One was dark-skinned, thin and wore a suit of leaves. The other was plump and short, with a feathered cap and an unpleasant moustache that he twirled around his fingers. They both regarded her in silence.

The raven preened its feathers briefly, then shook itself. The feathers fell away, transforming into a soft, gleaming gown. It was worn by a small woman, not much larger than the bird had been. The tips of two pointed ears poked out from her silky, black hair. Next to it, her skin was as pale as cream, glowing in the moonlight.

‘What do you want?’ Tanya whispered. Her body was tense, every muscle tight with dread.

‘What makes you think we want anything?’ Raven answered. Her voice was soft, but not exactly friendly.

‘You usually want to cause trouble,’ Tanya retorted. ‘To punish me for something. Well, I don’t know why you’re here this time – I haven’t done anything. I haven’t written about you, spoken about you or picked any flowers that I shouldn’t have.’

‘Actually, that’s not quite true, is it?’ said Raven. ‘You have been talking to someone about us.’

Gredin, the dark-skinned fairy, nodded in agreement. ‘We saw you,’ he said. ‘Speaking to that boy.’ His yellow eyes were narrowed. ‘We didn’t like it.’

‘Why?’ Tanya protested, her voice rising. She racked her brains to recall what she and Ratty had spoken about, knowing that they must have discussed fairies, but not able to pinpoint anything in particular. ‘If he can see fairies, too, what have I done wrong? It’s not like I told him anything he didn’t already know.’

Gredin’s lip curled back over his teeth. ‘No,’ he murmured. ‘Quite the opposite.’

Tanya closed her eyes, willing her memories of the afternoon to return.
Quite the opposite?
That meant Ratty had been the one with the information, telling
her
things – important things – about fairies that she didn’t know. But what? The question niggled her, the answers just out of reach.