One Wish (21 page)

The fairy ring faded, but the greenery remained, thickening and growing denser. Winged creatures buzzed in the air, some of them swooping low over the cart to inspect its passengers curiously. Tanya felt a couple of spiteful tugs to her hair and a pinch on her arm, and gritted her teeth through the fairies’ tittering laughter.

The cart continued to gather speed, whipping her hair up around her face and snatching the fairies away on the wind. She gripped the sides tighter, squeezing her eyes shut until, with a scrape and a bang, they jerked to a stop. Tentatively, she opened her eyes and blinked. They appeared to be in some kind of potting shed. Various garden tools surrounded them, and the only source of light was from a broken, cobwebbed window.

‘I believe we have arrived,’ Don announced. ‘Could someone please get me out?’

Turpin lifted the toad out of the rucksack and placed him on the ground, where he stretched out one slimy leg, then the other.

‘Where are we?’ Tanya asked.

‘I told you,’ Don said impatiently. ‘We’re in an inbetween. It’s a sort of . . . pocket, if you like. Not quite our world and not quite the fairy realm, either, but somewhere, well . . . in between the two. Discreet and tucked away, for those who don’t want to be easily found. They can only be reached by certain portals which are also inbetweens.’

‘So the ride is a portal,’ said Tanya. ‘Because it’s built right between the land and the sea?’

‘Correct,’ said Don. ‘Of course, there are lots of in-between places like that. But not everybody knows how to use them, so they are wasted.’

‘You still haven’t told me who it is we’re here to see,’ said Tanya.

At this, Turpin tittered with laughter. Don scowled.

‘Two sisters,’ he said at last. ‘And fey, although they grew up in our world, along with their older brother.’

‘Why did they grow up in our world?’ Tanya asked.

‘It happens more often than you think,’ said Don. ‘Most commonly with changelings—’

‘What are changelings?’

‘Fairy children that are exchanged with human children,’ said Don. ‘If fairy children are born sick, or even if they are very ugly, the fairies will often choose to switch them with a healthy or pretty human child.’

‘That’s terrible!’ Tanya burst out.

‘We don’t like ugly ones,’ Turpin muttered.

Don nodded. ‘Sometimes it’s even done out of mischief or revenge. But these children were not changelings. The entire family was fey, though they used glamour to disguise their fairy traits. Whether they were banished from the fairy realm as a punishment, or came here of their own accord, I never found out. But all three of them, the brother especially, were brilliant.’

‘You knew them as children?’ Tanya asked.

‘I lived next door to them,’ Don replied. ‘We played together and went to the same school. And, although I couldn’t see through the glamour that made them look human, they couldn’t disguise the fact that they were magical. When they were around, animals developed the ability to talk, sweets grew on trees, toys would come to life.’ He paused, smiling. ‘Best of all, our enemies never went unpunished. Whether they were made to bark like a dog, or plagued by a stench no one else could smell, they always got their comeuppance.’

‘So what went wrong?’ Tanya asked. ‘I know something must have, because you don’t look very happy at having to come here.’

Don sighed. ‘Everything was fine until we grew up. And then the sisters had a falling-out.’

‘About what?’

Don looked uncomfortable now. ‘They both fell in love with the same man. After that, everything changed. They grew very . . . competitive, each casting spells on the other to make them less appealing to this man. The more outrageous these spells became, the more difficult it was for them to hide their true natures. Things got very . . . ugly, shall we say. And that’s how they ended up here, out of the way where they can curse each other to their heart’s content.’

‘But surely, if they hate each other, they’d want to live apart?’ said Tanya.

‘Oh, no,’ said Don. ‘They might hate each other, but they can’t live without each other. Living together is the only way they can keep an eye on each other – to make sure neither of them tries to pursue the man in question.’

‘Sounds very odd,’ said Tanya. ‘What are these spells they cast on each other?’

‘You’ll see,’ said Don. ‘Just . . . try not to stare too much. Oh, and don’t eat or drink anything they offer you. They don’t get many visitors, so when they do they try not to let them leave.’

‘Great,’ Tanya muttered. ‘So where are they?’

‘This way.’ Don hopped towards the shed door. It was not locked or even closed properly. Tanya clambered out of the cart and followed, with Turpin at her side. She pushed the door and it opened silently, into a very ordinary little yard with high walls and a gate a short distance away.

Don took the lead, hopping quickly to the gate. This led out into a narrow alleyway much like the ones at home, only there was an air of something that didn’t feel entirely normal. Looking up, Tanya saw a strange sight. The sky was the colour of a pale, purple bruise. It was impossible to tell whether it was dawn or twilight, for both a sun and a crescent moon floated overhead. But it was more than that. It was the silence of the place. It felt like they were in a bubble, cushioned from all the sounds of real life.

‘I don’t think it’s too far,’ said Don.

‘You don’t
think
?’ said Tanya. ‘You mean you don’t know?’

‘I do know,’ Don snapped. ‘But it’s been a while since I last came here, and it doesn’t help that the blasted portal brings you out somewhere different every time. I just need to get my bearings.’

He hopped off ahead at a surprising speed, turning into another little side alley that opened on to what at first appeared to be an ordinary-looking street. Rows upon rows of terraced houses stretched as far as the eye could see, all lit by the strange, purple dawn-twilight. It looked very much like an average street in London, Tanya thought . . . but, as she looked closer, she saw things were slightly askew and didn’t make sense.

‘There are daffodils growing in that garden,’ she said in surprise.

Turpin looked at the flowers, uninterested. ‘So?’

Tanya pointed to a tree on the other side of the road. ‘So, that tree has plums growing on it. We’ve got a plum tree in our garden and it doesn’t get fruit until late summer. But daffodils are spring flowers. And look there – blackberries! They shouldn’t be out until September.’

‘Things are higgledy-piggledy here,’ said Turpin. ‘Is a topsy-turvy place where all the seasons are mixed up.’

‘That’s why witches and fey folk like it here,’ said Don, who had stopped in front of a little wooden gate. ‘They can always get their spell ingredients at any time of the year.’ He gestured to the gate. ‘This is the place.’

Tanya looked up at the house beyond the gate. It was extremely narrow, with only two windows that were squeezed in one on top of the other above the front door. ‘People actually live here?’ she asked. It seemed too small to be possible.

‘Nothing is what it seems,’ said Don. ‘Now ring the bell and let me do the talking.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And remember, don’t eat or drink anything they offer you – hide it if you have to, but don’t let a crumb pass your lips.’

Nervous, Tanya reached out and jangled the large, silver bell on the door. It was opened almost immediately by a tall, thin man whose cheekbones jutted from his cheeks. He had grey hair and was dressed in a tattered black suit, and would otherwise have been very nondescript were it not for the fact that he was both slightly see-through and hovered a few inches above ground level.

‘You rang?’ he inquired.

‘Er, yes,’ said Don. ‘Good morning. I mean, good evening.’ He looked at the sky in confusion. ‘I mean, oh . . . never mind. I’d like to see the ladies of the house, if I may.’

‘Certainly, sir,’ said the butler, who did not seem surprised in the slightest to be talking to a toad. ‘And whom should I say is calling?’

‘D-Donald.’ Don swallowed, visibly nervous. ‘Donald Hanratty. And this is Tanya . . .?’

‘Fairchild,’ Tanya put in.

The butler looked at Turpin expectantly.

‘Turpin,’ she announced. ‘The Terrible.’

‘Very good.’ The butler vanished, quite literally, leaving the three of them silent on the doorstep.

Tanya stared at the space where he had been standing. ‘Was that . . . I mean, is he a . . .?’

‘Ghost,’ Don finished. ‘Yes, poor chap. He’s been here for some years now. Had a heart attack on a train halfway between London and Birmingham and ended up in the wrong inbetween. Or maybe he didn’t like the one he was supposed to be in. Who knows?’

‘And you,’ said Tanya, raising an eyebrow at Turpin. ‘Turpin the Terrible?’

Turpin shrugged. ‘Made it up.’

Tanya peered into the gloomy hallway beyond the door. It stretched back into shadows, with nothing to see except for plain white walls and spotless chequered tiles. A moment passed, then a high-pitched shriek of excitement echoed from the depths of the house.

‘I told you the sisters get excited when they have visitors,’ Don said. His voice sounded strained all of a sudden.

‘How sure are you that they can turn you back?’ Tanya asked.

‘Fairly sure,’ he answered. His voice had thinned out to a croak once more. ‘Just don’t leave without me.’

Tanya frowned. ‘Why would we—?’

She never got to finish the sentence for the ghostly butler reappeared just then, beckoning to them.

‘This way, please,’ he said grandly, sweeping through the hallway. Tanya and Turpin followed, with Don’s hops behind them sounding like wet slaps on the tiles. Two high-pitched voices having some kind of heated conversation drifted to them in snatches, but Tanya was unable to make out any specific words. They were shown to an imposing, black door at the end of the hall, beyond which the voices were rising to screeches.

‘Where are they? Where are they?’ The voice was like fingernails clawing a blackboard. ‘I know you’ve hidden them, you sneaky old stoat! Where are my pearls?’

A second voice cackled. ‘You think pearls will make a difference with a face like that?’

The butler cleared his throat. The two voices hushed immediately, then one called out in a sugary but scratchy tone:

‘Come in!’

The butler stood aside. As Tanya pushed the door open, she felt a rush of cold air as she passed him, and got the distinct feeling that, if she tried to walk through him, she would be able to. The door swung back to reveal a busy, brightly-lit room. There was something peculiar about it, but Tanya could not take it in straight away for, despite Don’s warnings not to stare, her eyes became fixed on the two figures who stood at the centre.

Though Don had described them as sisters, there was very little about them that was recognisable as female. Nor, Tanya thought, did they look much alike. The one standing nearest wore what looked like a wig, piled high in black ringlets that were like fat little sausages. What at first looked like streaks of grey were actually cobwebs, and there were things crawling and jumping within the curls.
Fleas
, Tanya realised with a barely suppressed shiver. The woman wore a sickly lavender dress that could once have been a ballgown, but now it was faded and stained and full of holes. However, her most disturbing feature was her face. Her nose was a wet, pink pig’s snout and, below it, a coarse, black beard which had been woven into a neat plait dangled almost to her waist and was secured by a purple bow.

The other sister had not fared much better in the looks department. She wore a similarly hideous dress in faded yellow and her hair was a matted, mustard-coloured mess in which things also nested – only this time it wasn’t fleas. It was mice. She had a large, quivering grey nose like that of a cow or a bull, complete with a silver ring through it. She too had a beard: long, orange and parted in the middle and thrown back over her shoulders.

Tanya’s eyes darted from one to the other. According to Don, this was what they had done to each other.
No wonder they’d had to come to an inbetween
, she thought. There was no way they would be able to lead normal lives in the real world.

The sisters stared back at her with expressions of delight. The pig-snouted sister was the first to speak. ‘A girl! A girl has come to see us, Gretchen. How lovely!’ She lifted an eyeglass hanging around her neck and peered through it first at Turpin, then at Don, then at the door they had just come through. ‘But where is Donald?’ she asked anxiously.

‘He’s . . . er—’ Tanya began, then looked sideways at the toad.

‘Yes, where?’ Gretchen squawked. ‘Where?’

‘I’m here, my dears,’ Don announced. ‘Down here.’

The sisters gaped at the toad, their faces frozen in horror.

‘Gretchen,’ Don continued politely. ‘Griselda. It’s so lovely to see you again.’

18

The Bearded Sisters

G
RISELDA TOOK A TINY STEP FORWARD, her snout twitching. ‘Donald?’ she said in a faint voice. ‘My Donald? Is that really you?’

‘What do you mean,
your
Donald?’ Gretchen said sharply. ‘He’s not your Donald and never was!’

‘Now, ladies . . .’ Don began.

‘Oh, no . . .’ Tanya looked at Turpin, beginning to understand. ‘When he said they’d both fallen in love with the same man . . . it was
him
, wasn’t it? They did all . . . all that to each other because of Don?’

Turpin nodded, her face glum. ‘They say love. Turpin says madness.’

‘Maybe there’s not much difference,’ Tanya murmured.

Griselda knelt down before Don. ‘It
is
, Gretchen,’ she said in a wobbly voice. ‘It’s him! Come and look at the eyes. It’s all in the eyes!’

Gretchen hurried to her sister’s side and bent down to inspect the toad. ‘Oh!’ she wailed. ‘Oh, Griselda, you’re quite right – I’d recognise those dreamy sapphires anywhere!’

‘Dreamy sapphires?’ Tanya whispered. Turpin made a gagging noise.

Griselda scooped up the toad, pressing him against her ample chest, and whisked him away to the back of the room. Gretchen ran after her, protesting. ‘Put him down! You’ll smother him with those things!’