Philippa Fisher and the Dream-Maker's Daughter (12 page)

“Nothing,” I replied.

Daisy opened the drawer. She pulled out the feathered charm I’d found outside. I’d forgotten about that. “What’s this?” she asked.

“Oh, that. It’s just a kind of lucky-charm thing,” I said, not very helpfully. “I had it hanging on the ceiling, but it fell off, and —”

“Where did you get it?” Daisy interrupted, pressing buttons on her MagiCell while she spoke.

“I — I found it,” I said. “It was hanging outside.”

Daisy continued tapping buttons. “Yes, this is it,” she said, more to herself than me.

“I thought it might help me sleep,” I added.

Daisy looked up from her MagiCell. “Why did you need help sleeping?”

I shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep very well on the first night. Not that it’s done much good. I’ve had awful dreams pretty much every time I’ve closed my eyes.”

“Since you’ve had this thing?” Daisy asked.

I thought about it. Now that she mentioned it, the dreams
had
been since I’d had the charm. “Yeah, I suppose so,” I said. “Except I was all right last night,” I added.
After I’d put it in the drawer!

Daisy leaned in farther. “It’s torn,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s my fault.”

“Your fault?”

“I chipped some of the glass trying to get the window open — it got lodged in the middle.”

Daisy tapped some more buttons. “Listen, I need to take this away.”

“Why? What is it?”

“I don’t exactly know. I just know it’s what they want.”

“What who want?” I said impatiently. I didn’t mean to get angry, but I was beginning to feel that all I was doing was asking questions that Daisy couldn’t answer. Or
wouldn’t
answer.

“Philippa, I’m really sorry,” she said, turning to me. “Look, do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you,” I said, reaching out for her hand. “Always. No one comes close to you.”

“Really?” Daisy smiled. “What about Charlotte?”

I shook my head.

“Or your new friend?”

“Robyn?” I said, laughing. “I’ve only just met her. No, you’re my best friend, and if you say you need to do something, then I know you have a good reason for it.”

“I have,” she said seriously. “I really have. I’m sorry; I just can’t tell you more. But I’ll tell you everything I can, as soon as I can, OK?”

“It’s fine,” I said. “Like I said, I trust you.”

“Good. I just have to do this, and then I promise I’ll come back and we’ll do something nice together — whether they say I can or not! OK?”

“OK,” I said with a smile.

She started to leave.

“Will you come back at night, or can we actually spend a day together?” I asked.

“It depends on whether they let me see you or if I have to sneak out again, like last night. It’s really hard to get away during the day,” she said. “It’s different from my last assignment. We have to stay in our form that we take from nature during the day.”

“Daisy, at least tell me that. Tell me what you are, what you transform from.”

Daisy looked around one last time. She even checked outside the window and behind the curtains before replying. Then she leaned close and indicated to me to do the same.

“OK, I’ll tell you,” she said. “I’m a butterfly.”

“A butterfly!” Daisy was a butterfly! That was so cool! “Wow! Do you get to fly around all over the place?”

Daisy stared at me. “Philippa, I do that anyway. I’m a fairy!” Then she burst out laughing. After a moment of wondering how I could have been so stupid, I started laughing, too. At first, just a giggle slithered out, but the more I thought about it, the funnier it seemed. I kept seeing her face creased up with laughter, and it made me laugh even more. Soon we were both rolling on the floor laughing like lunatics, hands clapped over our mouths so we wouldn’t make too much noise and wake my parents, tears rolling down our cheeks.

“You’re a butterfly,” I kept saying. “You can fly!” And we’d both burst out laughing again.

Then I had a thought. I stopped laughing. “You’re a butterfly,” I said slowly, thinking about her as a butterfly, picturing her — I could see her now.

Daisy was looking at me, tears of laughter in her eyes as she waited for the punch line. When it didn’t come, she said, “I can fly!”

But I didn’t laugh this time. I sat up. “What color are your wings?” I asked.

“What do you mean? You’ve seen them. They’re —”

“No, I mean as a butterfly.” I shut my eyes and tried to remember. It had been so distinctive, I’d never seen one like it before or since. “Have they got dark purple edges? And — what was it? Pink circles, I think?”

Daisy stared at me, her mouth open. Then she nodded silently.

“I knew it!” I said, jumping up. “You made us come here! You came to my house and landed on the map. You did, didn’t you?”

Daisy stared at me in silence a bit longer. When she spoke, her voice was a hoarse whisper. “Philippa,” she said. “It was a top-level mission. I’ll get in such trouble if anyone finds out that you know.”

“What would they do?”

“I don’t know — but I’ve heard some horror stories lately.”

“Like what?”

“Like about butterflies having their wings cut off!”

“Really? That’s awful! Why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s probably just rumors. But a fairy can’t live without its wings.”

“What happens?”

Daisy shrugged. “I don’t know. Some say you’re left to wither and die. Others say you get turned into a human, but at the same age that you are as a fairy — which is pretty scary if you think that a lot of fairies have been around for over a hundred years. Not easy suddenly having to learn to live as an old woman of a hundred and seventy-five with no money, no home, and no way of getting by.”

I shuddered.

“Exactly. Not something you want to get first-hand knowledge of.” Daisy got up and lifted the window. “Listen, I really need to go,” she said. Then she stopped. “Hold on,” she said, crossing the room to my bed. She reached into her pocket, then lifted the pillow. It looked like she was putting something under it.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Daisy put the pillow back in place. “Sorry. I thought I’d dropped something.” She went back to the window. “I’ll see you tomorrow, OK?”

“OK,” I said. “Be careful.”

She picked up the feathered charm and, holding it carefully, bent down and crawled out through the window. Stepping out onto the window ledge, she turned back to smile. “Watch this!” she said, holding on to the drainpipe.

I sat on the floor and waited to see what was going to happen. A moment later, Daisy let go of the drainpipe and held her arms straight out. Within seconds, an explosion of color snaked around the edge of her body, making a shimmering star shape with Daisy in the middle. The colors sizzled and spat and sparkled into a haze of blue and pink and purple — changing constantly, flashing and bursting all around her.

Then, as suddenly as it had started — it was over. The lights stopped. Daisy had vanished. In her place, fluttering for a moment outside the window, stopping just long enough to dip a wing as though waving good-bye, was a butterfly. The very same one that had come to our house. It really had been Daisy. She’d flown all the way to my house and managed to trick us into coming here on our vacation. I didn’t even mind that she’d done it because of an assignment. I knew she’d done it because she wanted to as well. Because she wanted to see me as much as I wanted to see her.

I laughed with pleasure, smiling to myself. She was definitely the best, most amazing friend anyone could ever have!

I watched her disappear into the night, the feathered charm trailing behind her — almost twice her size, blowing gently on the breeze as she flew farther and farther away. The moonlight caught the charm, its colors sparkling in the night sky, tiny flickers of light flashing and glinting.

And then I realized something. The smile drained from my face. No! It couldn’t be! I must be wrong!

I leaned out the window, peering into the night, straining to see clearly.

I watched carefully, holding my breath. Yes. I was sure. The material on the charm and Daisy’s butterfly wings!

They were exactly the same.

“Daisy!” I called out into the night. “Wait!”

She flew on, farther and farther away. “Daisy, wait! Come back!” I shouted, leaning as far out of the window as I could. But she hadn’t heard me. She flew on and on, a tiny bright light in the sky, smaller and smaller. First a dot, and then she was gone.

I slumped on the floor beside the window.

“Philippa?” Mom’s face appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She climbed up a couple of steps and poked her head through the trapdoor. Glancing first at the bed, she looked around the room and saw me sitting on the floor. “Darling, are you all right?” She hoisted herself up into the bedroom and came to sit down beside me.

“I’m fine,” I said, suddenly realizing I’d better think of a good reason to have been shouting in the middle of the night. “Sorry,” I said. “I was having a bad dream and thought I’d get some fresh air. Did I wake you?”

“It’s OK, darling,” she said, putting an arm around me and stroking my hair. “Poor you. You haven’t been sleeping well, have you? First you sleep half the day away and then you have another nightmare.” She cuddled me closer. “I know!” she said. “I’ve got some lavender oil in our room. Shall I put some on your pillow? It might help soothe you.”

I shook my head. The last thing I wanted right now was something that would supposedly help me sleep. The lucky charm was supposed to help me sleep, and look how that had worked out!