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Authors: Emma Carroll

In Darkling Wood (11 page)

BOOK: In Darkling Wood
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Back in the woods, something rustles high above my head. I look up. See a flash of red and white between the branches. It’s Flo. Thank goodness.

‘There you are!’ I shout up to her. ‘Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you!’

‘I’m here now,’ she says, ‘so stop fussing.’

‘I’m not fussing!’

She’s clearly not cross with me because her face is one big grin. I grin back. I’m just relieved I’ve found her.

Flo moves down the tree like most people climb stairs. She stops about halfway and sits on a branch.

I look up, shielding my eyes so I can see her better. ‘The tree surgeon’s coming on Tuesday to start work, Flo. And I’ve been thinking, you’re right – these woods are amazing. We need to do what we can to save them.’

Flo shuffles further down the tree. I see her properly now, and she’s gone a bit pale.

‘Tuesday’s the day?’ she says, no longer grinning.

‘Yes. So we need a plan. I can speak to Nell, though I’m not exactly in her good books,’ I say, ticking it off on my fingers. ‘And perhaps you could …’

Flo interrupts. ‘What happened between you and Nell?’

‘We had a fight. I went off to London to see my brother without telling anyone and I shouldn’t have done. Anyway, so on Tuesday …’

‘I told you there’d be trouble,’ Flo cuts in again. ‘It’s what happens when the little people aren’t happy.’

‘You think the
fairies
made me fall out with Nell?’

‘Yes. And the other problems she’s been having.’

‘Mr Giles didn’t make it because of the bad weather,’ I say, but then think of the fence that was somehow put back up again.

She’s right, isn’t she? This is happening.

‘So,’ says Flo. ‘We need a plan, do we?’

I nod. Whatever may or may not be going on with fairies, I need to be practical. ‘There’s lots we could do – make banners, put up posters, stuff like that. We could put locks on the gates to the wood, and …’ Seeing Flo’s face, I stop. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘You haven’t listened, have you?’ says Flo.

‘We’re back to fairies again, aren’t we?’ I say with a sigh.

‘I’ve told you, Alice. The fairies will fight for Darkling Wood but they need you to believe in them to give their magic more strength.’

I fold my arms. ‘And I’ve told you – you can’t make me believe in something that’s not real.’

‘It would be easier if you stopped looking at me like I’m completely loopy,’ she says. ‘You know what the fairies want you to do.’

This is stupid.

‘All right.’ I throw my arms out wide and yell at the top of my voice, ‘Hey everyone! I believe in fairies! I really really do!’

There’s rustling in the bushes. A terrified blackbird swoops past.

I look up at Flo. ‘There. Happy now?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ she says, sounding cross again. ‘You have to actually mean it. The fairies are very sensitive; they’ll know you’re lying. When you finally do believe, you’ll be able to see them. That’s why you saw nothing the other day when you looked through the fairy door.’

It was just a hole in a tree, I think, that’s why I didn’t
see anything. But there is … I don’t know …
something
about Darkling Wood.

‘Okay, I admit these woods are pretty special,’ I say. ‘The way they make you feel at peace, it
is
sort of magical.’

Flo looks pleased. ‘That’s better.’

This is mad.
She’s
mad. But it’s not like my ideas are works of genius. And we’re running out of time.

‘Trust me, Alice,’ she says. ‘This is urgent. We need to work on getting you to believe in fairies.’

‘How, exactly?’

‘Trust me,’ she says again.

I groan.

‘Tell me about your father,’ she says.

Bam
. Just like that. It throws me completely. ‘What’s that got to do with fairies?’

The corners of Flo’s mouth twitch. I think she’s going to laugh.

‘Stop being so …
practical
for a moment, and tell me.’

Near Flo’s feet I catch sight of the fairy door where she left that stupid note, the one she thought would help. Turned out my idea to visit Theo didn’t help much either. I suppose that makes us quits.

I tuck my hair behind my ears. ‘Okay, but there’s
not much to tell. Dad got his dream job in Devon designing houses made of wood. But it wasn’t a dream for Mum, so we stayed behind and they split up. We saw Dad some weekends and holidays. Then Theo got sick and bit by bit we saw even less of him. Dad lives with Lara now – she’s his girlfriend, and they’ve got a baby called Poppy. That’s it. My dad in a nutshell.’

Flo looks horrified.

‘Your father stopped seeing you when your brother got sick?’ she says. ‘How could he do that?’

My heart sinks a bit. She’s right.
How could he?

‘I don’t know.’

‘Have you seen him since?’ Flo asks.

‘I saw him at the hospital the other day. He brought me back here afterwards – well, he dropped me outside.’

‘Nell is his mother, isn’t she? Didn’t he want to pay her a visit?’

Flo has these funny little phrases. ‘No, he didn’t want to
pay her a visit
.’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t know. He doesn’t come here. He never brought us here when we were little or anything.’

Flo goes quiet.

I shoot her a look. ‘What?’

‘Does he know about the trees being cut down?’ Flo says.

‘Who?’

She sighs. ‘Your father, Alice, wakey wakey!’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Your grandmother is fixated on the trees, and your father never comes here. Maybe there’s a connection.’

‘All I know is he’s scared about Theo. He freaked out at the hospital – so did I.’

Flo frowns. ‘That doesn’t explain why he wouldn’t visit his own mother.’

I don’t know what to think.

Certainly Nell doesn’t want Dad to come here. It might be because Mr Giles is about to start cutting down the trees. But then it might not. I also don’t know why Nell was crying last night or what it was in that little room she didn’t want me to touch. Maybe these things aren’t connected.

Or maybe they are.

All this talking has made me more confused than ever. Yet one thing is clear: we have to save the wood. I still don’t believe in fairies, not really, but I can’t shake off the dread I feel when Flo mentions revenge. In my head it’s all mixed up, so it almost seems like the woods and Theo are linked and if we save one
then we’ll be saving the other. It’s mad. But I can’t help thinking it.

‘Alice! Alice! Are you there?’

I go still. Someone’s calling me. It’s coming from over by the gate. There it is again. It’s Nell.

My stomach drops.

Theo.

‘I’ll have to go,’ I say to Flo.

Nell’s voice is clearer now. ‘Alice! Quickly! Your mother’s on the phone!’

I run.

And as I do, just for a second, something pale green like a butterfly flits alongside me though the trees.

‘Now, Alice,’ Mum says.

I sink down onto the bottom step of the stairs. This is her ‘bad news’ voice. I’ve heard it lots these past few weeks: it turns me to ice.

‘Your grandmother says she’s struggling with you, especially after your trip to London. I think we need to talk.’

‘Oh … right.’

This isn’t about Theo. The relief is so massive, I almost laugh.

‘What’s Nell been saying?’ I ask.

‘She says you keep going off without telling her.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn up in London again.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ says Mum. ‘It wasn’t one of your better ideas.’

‘Suppose not.’

‘The thing is, Alice, your grandmother thinks you’re not happy there with her.’

‘Really?’ I pick at a loose bit of paint on the wall. ‘She’s actually noticed?’

‘What d’you mean?’

I look over my shoulder just to check Nell hasn’t followed me into the house. She hasn’t; she’s still hammering away at something outside.

‘Honestly, Mum, she’s got this amazing wood right outside her back door and she’s getting rid of it because she says it’s not safe and it’ll ruin her house. But the trees are really old. Really beautiful, only she doesn’t see it like that.’

I picture Mum rubbing her forehead as she listens.

‘Nell didn’t say anything about the wood, sweetie. She was concerned about you coming to London, yes. But she also said you’ve been wandering around her place at night.’

‘She didn’t mention the climbing trees thing? She went mental when she thought I’d been doing that.’

‘No, this wasn’t about climbing trees. She said you’ve been looking through her belongings.’

‘Oh.’ I swallow. ‘Right.’

‘Is that true?’

I get my nail right under a flake of paint and pull.

‘Alice?’

I don’t know quite how to put it. Okay, so I shouldn’t have gone in that room without asking. But why’s Nell keeping all that stuff locked away, anyway? And why was she crying in the night? She never asks about Theo either – but why would she, when she doesn’t even speak to her own son?

I don’t suppose Mum will want to hear all this, so I choose my words carefully.

‘It’s not that I don’t like staying here,’ I say. ‘I’m okay with it if I can’t come home. I’ve made some friends, too.’

‘That’s good.’

‘But this place is a bit … well … strange.’

‘Strange isn’t necessarily bad,’ Mum says. ‘Think how boring life would be if we all ate the same food, drove the same cars, watched the same TV series.’

‘There isn’t even a TV here,’ I say. ‘But I’d happily eat different food. Nell’s cooking is disgusting.’

‘Your grandmother might seem a tough cookie, Alice. But she strikes me as someone who’s had her fair share of hard times.’

‘She’s weird.’

Mum sighs. ‘It’s not like you to be difficult, sweetie. We’re all finding this hard, aren’t we?’

I nod. I’m picking the paint faster.

‘Alice? Are you listening to me?’

‘Sorry.’

‘Just try to be good, will you?’

‘I am
trying
.’

‘Then try harder, please.’ Mum sounds tired. ‘I’ve got enough going on here at the hospital.’

‘What’s happened now?’ I ask, alarmed.

‘Oh … just your dad. He said he’d visit today and he hasn’t showed up. Theo keeps asking when he’s coming, and I don’t know what to tell him. Your father owes me big time for this one.’

I remember how Dad’s hands shook as he drove back from London. He was scared. Sounds like he still is. I know what that feels like, but he’s the grown-up here and he shouldn’t be letting Theo down.

Mum starts up again. ‘So what I
don’t
need today is drama from you.’

‘Me?’

Dad not showing up isn’t my fault. My eyes sting with tears. And for the first time in my life, I put the phone down on Mum. Then I remember I didn’t ask after Theo, which makes me feel bad all over again.

This is Nell’s fault. She’s phoned Mum behind my back like some sneaky teacher at school. Why the heck didn’t she just speak to me?

I storm outside to find Nell. She’s at the side of the house, taking down the fence again. She’s wearing a big toolbelt round her hips and the way she’s swinging her hammer around makes me think of that funny word to do with sword fights:
swashbuckling
.

‘Why did you phone my mum?’ I ask.

‘Not now, I’m busy,’ she says, waving me away.

I don’t move.

‘You grounded me yesterday – that was enough,’ I say. ‘You didn’t have to go and worry Mum.’

Nell’s hammer stops mid-swing. ‘Oh, so it’s my fault, is it? I’m the one who’s running away without telling people, and sneaking around in the night?’

I fold my arms across my chest. I can feel my heart beating fast.

‘You didn’t have to speak to her,’ I say.


You
didn’t have to run away,’ she snaps back.

‘I wasn’t running away. I was visiting Theo.’

‘And what were you doing in the little bedroom upstairs?’ Nell says. ‘It looked like prying to me.’

‘I wasn’t …’

She laughs in disbelief. ‘I caught you red-handed, Alice! Or am I seeing things?’

‘I couldn’t sleep, all right?’

‘You were going through private, personal things
that don’t concern you. And for your information, young lady, your mother isn’t the only person coping with other issues.’

Hard times
, Mum said. I stare at the ground.

‘Are we finished?’ Nell says. ‘Because I’ve got work to do. You’ll remember he’s coming on Tuesday?’

‘Who, Dad?’

It’s a total slip: I’ve no idea why I say it.

‘Good grief, child, no!’ Nell cries. ‘Why on earth would I want him here? I meant Mr Giles, the tree surgeon.’

‘Oh,
him
.’

Mr Giles or Dad – the thought of either makes my heart crash to the ground.

I escape back to the woods, but Flo’s nowhere to be seen. I call her name but all it does is panic the birds. I feel hopeless. I don’t see how anyone’s going to save Darkling Wood at this rate. This whole situation feels like it’s growing roots itself. It’s not just about protecting the foundations of the house or letting more light in. If Flo’s right, then this could also be about Dad. And if she’s right about that, then maybe she’s right about the fairies too.

I don’t know. I just don’t know.

Last night’s poor sleep is catching up with me. I’m
tired. Fed up. I want to go home. Leaning back against the beech tree, I close my eyes. Sunlight falls on my face. Behind my eyelids the colours start to spin. I feel lighter. Calmer.

Perhaps Flo really does see fairies. Standing here now, I can almost understand why. This wood is full of strangeness. Even the sunlight becomes something different as it falls through the trees.

But then.

Fairies, I mean,
really
?

When I open my eyes everything is gold sparkles. It might just be dizziness. Or it might be something magical. I can’t be sure.

One blink and it’s gone.

Darkling Cottage
Sunday 17th November

 

Dearest Alfred,

There are fairies in Darkling Wood.

Yes, you did read that last sentence correctly. I have proof at last, so now people should jolly well believe me!

It wasn’t easy to get my hands on Papa’s camera. All morning we sat in the library, Papa reading his magazine on ‘psychic matters’, and me not settling to anything. In the end I got Anna to make up the fire until it was positively roasting, which promptly sent Papa to sleep. At last I was able to sneak away.

A few days ago Papa’s photography things were moved upstairs into Maisie’s room on account of Mama hating the mess. To keep out the light a thick curtain has been hung across the door, and inside an enormous table has been set up, which almost fills the little room. It was on this table that the camera sat, as if waiting for me! I’d seen Papa load it with six or eight glass plates: I took just one. Then tiptoeing back downstairs and past the library, I fetched my coat.

Crikey, it was cold outside. Frost still hung thickly in the trees, and the ground beneath my feet was so hard it sounded almost hollow. At first, I couldn’t set the blasted camera up. It
was simply a few buttons and clips but my fingers had gone so numb with cold it took forever, though having watched Papa, I knew how it was done. After a couple more tries, I got the back open and the plate properly into place with the big spring firmly behind it. Once the camera made a whirring sound I knew it was ready.

At first there was nothing to photograph. Putting the camera down, I sat back against the tree, wrapped my arms around my knees and waited. My feet grew cold. I imagined warming pans and woollen socks until it became impossible to think of anything else.

Quite suddenly, the grass to my left quivered. A tiny leg appeared. Then came another, followed by a golden-haired head. Standing before me was that same winged creature, or one just like her. I held my breath in delight.

This time the creature didn’t seem quite solid, almost as if she was made of mist or moonlight. She hovered so close I saw every fold in her clothes. And yet I saw through her too. It was most peculiar. Then she reached out. And, oh, Alfred, she touched my feet!

Instantly my toes tingled and were warm. Then came the strangest sensation – it felt sharper, clearer than the calmness from before. It was as if my head had been swept quite clean. I confess I forgot EVERYTHING. All that mattered was this moment, this pinprick of time, sitting here
with a fairy in my sights. What a wonderful photograph it would make!

Moving oh so slowly so as not to scare her, I lifted the camera off the ground and held it in my hand. With the other I moved the lens till the creature wasn’t blurry. It was so hard to keep steady. At last I pressed the button.

Click.

The creature vanished.

It was like waking from a dream I didn’t want to end. Yet I knew this wasn’t a dream; it had really happened. All I had to do now was develop the picture, but until then the glass plate must stay inside the camera, out of the light.

Back at home, Papa was still asleep, so I tiptoed upstairs and got to work. First, I set up trays of solution like I’d seen him do. Then, once the curtain was pulled across and the door shut, I opened the camera. Just as Papa did, I put the plate into the solution. And waited – I had to guess as to how long.

After a while an outline appeared. I’d remembered how Papa had put the red light on – the ‘safe light’, he called it, because it didn’t damage the picture. I did it now, and goodness, how my hands shook!

What can I say? The image came out perfectly. There she was, Alfred. Up against the tree trunk, she looked tiny, like a flower or a fleck of light. I imagined how Mama would say it
was dust on the lens, but to me it was clear as day. She was, most definitely, my fairy.

What happened next was an accident. In my excitement I tripped over the table leg, sending trays, bottles and tongs flying. The clatter woke Papa, who appeared in the doorway, demanding to know WHAT THE BLUE BLAZES was going on. Then he saw the negative. And do you know, he laughed out loud!

We did the last bit of developing together. I think perhaps Papa was even more excited than I was. He believed in that picture, Alfred. Like me, he wanted the fairies to be real.

We waited until after tea to show Mama. I was nervous – and with good reason. When I put the picture in her lap, she barely looked at it. Her eyes were drilling into me.

What right did I have to take Papa’s equipment? she asked. Proper young ladies filled their time doing useful, charitable things. They didn’t spend all day in the woods, climbing trees.

I didn’t see what the fuss was about. No one ever died from climbing trees, I said, and was promptly told to hush my mouth. Mama insisted I was too old for all this silliness. And I was certainly too old to be taking pictures of my dolls.

Well!

It wasn’t a doll in my picture, Alfred. On that, Papa and I were in firm agreement.

Papa says he knows a man with a special interest in pictures like mine. He’s going to invite him to Darkling, which has cheered me rather, even if Mama thinks it’s all nonsense. You see everything’s been so bleak of late, and this picture of mine has given us all something else to think about. It feels like a glimmer of hope.

Your ever loving sister.

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