One Wish (25 page)

‘Can last between a day and a week,’ said Turpin. ‘Depends how strong you brew it.’

‘It takes the form of a tea, I believe,’ said Don.

Turpin nodded.

‘Does it taste like normal tea, though?’ Tanya asked.

Turpin made a face. ‘Oh, no. Tastes nasty.’

‘Then she’ll never drink it,’ Tanya said. ‘Isn’t there another way? Sleep would be the best solution – she’d never know I was gone.’

A crafty look crept into Turpin’s eyes. ‘There is another way. A much simpler way, used by thieves and robbers in the night. The Sleep of the Dead.’

‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that, either,’ said Tanya.

Turpin rolled another jar into Tanya’s lap. Tanya lifted it and examined the contents. It was filled with something dark and powdery. ‘What is this stuff?’

‘Graveyard dirt,’ said Turpin proudly.

Tanya squeaked and tossed it away.

‘Careful, stupid girl!’ Turpin pounced on the jar and hugged it to her. ‘You could have broken it!’

‘Well, it’s a horrible thing to be carrying around!’

‘Is a very clever old trick,’ said Turpin, clutching the jar protectively. ‘Throw a handful of this at a house in the night and POOF! Everyone inside falls into a deep, deep sleep until the spell caster chooses to wake them. Is perfect.’

Tanya stared at the jar. Though she was repulsed by its contents, it certainly seemed a simple solution. ‘That’s all you have to do? Throw a handful at a house?’

‘Easy-peasy,’ said Turpin.

Tanya narrowed her eyes. ‘Then why didn’t you just tell me about this first?’

Turpin shrugged. ‘Because humans are so squeamish.’

Tanya snorted. ‘Because you wanted it for your thieving supplies more like.’

Turpin nodded, not embarrassed in the least.

‘Fine,’ said Tanya. ‘The Sleep of the Dead it is then. Now we’d best get on.’ She delved into the rucksack and took out the page from the spell book. It was a little rumpled from being bumped about, but otherwise undamaged. She smoothed it out on the bed. ‘We have everything except for three things: a playing card, a mirror and an egg.’ She got up and removed the mirror from the wall above the dressing table. ‘That takes care of one. I’ll find the other two, then as soon as my mother comes back into the cottage we’ll sneak outside and throw the graveyard dirt to put her to sleep before I make the potion.’

‘Excellent,’ Don said brightly. ‘All under control.’

But that was about to change, for, as Tanya left the room in search of the playing cards her mother had brought, she became aware of voices from outside the cottage. There were several, one of which was her mother’s, and there was something oddly familiar about the others. Curious, she crept closer to the door and listened.

‘Are you quite sure it was my daughter you saw?’ her mother was saying.

‘Quite sure,’ a smooth female voice confirmed.

Tanya’s breath caught in her throat. She knew that voice! But how was it even possible . . .?

‘Wait here.’ Her mother sounded cross now. ‘I’ll go and get her.’

Tanya flung open the cottage door, making her mother jump.

‘Oh. I was just coming to get you.’ She gestured to three figures standing on the porch. ‘These people have just told me something rather worrying about you, and I’d like you to tell me if it’s true.’

Tanya stared into the eyes of the three people standing behind her mother and felt the blood draining from her face. At first glance, they could almost be taken for strangers, for indeed even she had never seen them like this before. But she knew them all right. The woman who had spoken was tall and pale, with long, black hair and an even longer black coat. There was a feathered trim at the collar and cuffs, and sitting by her side was the ugliest, scruffiest brown mongrel of a dog that Tanya had ever seen. Its fur was full of fleas and it wore a scruffy green collar.

Next to her were two men. The younger one was dark-skinned and wore a smart, green suit and a tie with a leafy pattern. His golden eyes watched her fiercely, yet there was a hint of a smile on his lips. The other man was dressed in an old-fashioned tweed suit and a hat a little like the one her grandfather had owned, with a telltale feather lodged in the band.

Tanya eyed the three fairies in horror. Never, ever had they allowed themselves to be seen by either of her parents before or appeared to her like this. Though overdressed and out of place, their wings and pointed ears were hidden and, no matter how unusual they looked, they still passed for human. Oddballs, perhaps, but definitely human. She had expected a punishment from the moment she had broken their rules about speaking to Ratty, but this? This was completely unexpected and meant only one thing: big trouble.

‘W-what is it they’re saying about me?’ she asked.

‘They’re saying that they saw you jumping into the river,’ said her mother, a little crease of worry forming over her eyebrows. ‘Playing dares with a boy. Is it true?’

‘Of course not!’ Tanya gazed at her mother desperately. ‘I told you – I fell in when the bridge collapsed!’

‘But it only collapsed after it had been set fire to, didn’t it, young lady?’ said Feathercap.

Mrs Fairchild’s mouth dropped open. ‘You didn’t say anything about a fire. Is that true?’

‘Well, yes, but’ Tanya stammered.

‘But she didn’t want you to know that she and the boy were the ones who started the fire in the first place,’ Gredin said, giving her a hard look.

‘But I didn’t!’ Tanya protested. ‘We didn’t! That’s a rotten lie!’

‘Did you know you have your T-shirt on inside out?’ Raven said suddenly.

‘I’m sure I don’t,’ said Tanya, her voice icy cold.

Her mother frowned. ‘Yes, you do. There’s the label. Go inside and put it on the right way, please.’

Tanya lost her temper. ‘Well, what does it matter?’ she shouted. ‘These people are standing here telling lies about me and all you care about is whether my stupid T-shirt is on inside out?’

Her mother gripped her arm, hard. ‘I care about whether you’re dressed properly, not wandering around like a little scruff! You’ll go and change it now. And then you’ll come back here at once.’

Tanya wrenched her arm out of her mother’s grasp and went into the cottage, slamming the door behind her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she tugged off the T-shirt and turned it in the right way. But she was not going to surrender her protection that easily. Perhaps she could slip an iron nail into her pocket out of the fairies’ sight – and her mother’s – or even turn her socks inside out. But what would they resort to, she wondered, if they couldn’t use magic? She paused as a mad idea struck her. It would mean she had to play along, at least for a few moments, but it just might work.

She dashed into the bedroom. ‘The graveyard dirt, where is it? I need it, quickly!’

‘It’s in there,’ said Don, nodding to Turpin’s sack. ‘Whatever’s wrong?’

‘Everything.’ Tanya snatched the bag and upended it. Its contents fell out in a jumble.

‘Hey!’ Turpin began. ‘That’s not yours!’

‘And I bet half of it isn’t yours, either,’ Tanya retorted, spying the jar and grabbing it. ‘Does this stuff work on fairies?’

Turpin folded her arms, suspicion twisting her mouth. ‘Works on anyone who’s inside the house. Why?’

‘No time to explain.’ Tanya scooped out a handful of dirt and shook it into her pocket. ‘Just get out of the cottage, both of you, right now. Use the window and wait outside. Turpin, do you think you can hide near to the front of the cottage until I get everyone inside?’

‘Of course,’ Turpin said a little scornfully.

‘Good. When you’re sure we’re all in, wait a minute or two, then knock at the door and hide. Got it?’

Turpin and Don nodded mutely. Tanya left the room and gently coaxed Oberon out of his snoozing spot under the table. She needed to make sure he was outside, too. ‘Come on, boy, walk,’ she lied, feeling only a little guilty. Oberon shot up immediately, scrabbling to get out of the door before she had even opened it.

At the sight of the fairies on the porch, he stopped dead, and would have retreated back inside had Tanya not shut the door quickly behind herself. Cautious, he approached the mongrelly Mizhog, sniffing it curiously. The Mizhog sniffed back and gave a little mew, obviously forgetting it was supposed to be posing as a dog. Oberon backed away, his tail firmly between his legs, and hid behind Tanya.

Mrs Fairchild regarded the Mizhog strangely. ‘I’ve never heard a dog make that noise before. What kind is it?’

‘Oh,’ Raven said dismissively. ‘No one really knows.’

‘Are you sure it’s all right?’ Tanya’s mother asked. ‘Only it appears to be eating a slug.’

Raven gave a little laugh and nudged the Mizhog with her toe. ‘Exotic tastes.’

Mrs Fairchild wrinkled her nose. ‘Hmm.’ She shook her head and turned to Tanya, examining her T-shirt. ‘So, what do you have to say about all this?’

Tanya hung her head, doing her best to look gloomy. Her adrenalin began to race. ‘Perhaps we should go inside.’

Her mother pursed her lips. ‘Very well.’ She turned on her heel and went in, holding the door open for the three visitors. One by one they went in. Tanya hung back, keeping her fingers on Oberon’s collar. When the three fairies were inside, she slipped in after them, just managing to push Oberon’s long, brown nose out of the way as she shut him on the porch.

As soon as she closed the door, a strange sensation came over her. Her mouth felt tingly, like little electrical pulses had taken over her tongue. It did not feel quite her own any more. She stared at the fairies in dread, knowing that some sort of spell had just been cast.

‘Well?’ her mother asked. ‘This boy you were with. Do I even need to ask who it was?’

Next to her mother, and safely out of her eyeline, Gredin’s lips moved silently.

‘It was Ratty,’ said Tanya’s mouth, without any control of her own.

‘Oooh,’ said a familiar voice hidden nearby. ‘Oooooooh. A tricksy spell! Thingy approves, oh, yes!’

‘I thought as much. And the bridge?’ Her mother’s expression already registered disappointment, as though she knew what she was going to hear, yet there was still a faint glimmer of hope. ‘Did you . . . did either of you have anything to do with it catching fire?’

Of course not
, Tanya tried to say, but her lips would not form the words. Instead, Gredin’s lips moved again and a completely different sentence came out of Tanya’s mouth. ‘Ratty did it. I just watched. It was such fun seeing it go up in smoke!’

‘Tanya!’ Her mother’s voice was stricken. ‘How could you say something like that? Someone could have been seriously hurt!’

Tanya clenched her fists. She was powerless to defend herself, and the worst of it was that her mother now believed something of her that was completely untrue. It was just one of many, many things the fairies had done over the years, but each one had chipped away a little bit of the real Tanya in her mother’s eyes and presented her with a version of her daughter that was untrue. A problematic, troublesome girl who revelled in mischief and went out of her way to cause it. It was so, so unfair.

‘You’re not to see that boy again,’ said Mrs Fairchild.

‘Can’t stop me,’ said Tanya. She pressed her hands to her mouth, but it was too late. The words were out and her mother’s fury was growing by the second.

‘We’ll see about that,’ her mother snapped.

Feathercap coughed politely. ‘If you like, I could have a word with the boy’s father?’ he said. ‘To let him know what’s happened. It’s only fair that the boy should be punished also.’

‘Thank you, Mr . . .?’

‘Feathercap.’ Feathercap docked his hat and gave a little bow. ‘Happy to oblige.’

‘Mr Feathercap,’ Tanya’s mother repeated slowly, eyeing the fairy’s cap. A look of doubt entered her eyes, but then vanished as Gredin delivered the final blow.

‘Thank you, Mr Feathercap,’ Tanya mimicked sarcastically. ‘You nosy, interfering old troll!’

From under the floorboards, Thingy let out a delighted cackle.

A tear leaked from Tanya’s eye and she swiped at it angrily. After what they had done this time, she no longer cared if the fairies were protecting her, or about their stupid rules. If this was what it took to save Ratty, then the rules had to be broken.
Hurry up, Turpin!
she thought.
Where are you?

‘Tanya, go and pack your things.’ Her mother’s voice was cold. ‘We’re leaving immediately.’

‘Hurrah!’ Thingy crowed. ‘Finally! And good riddance!’

Three loud raps at the door silenced them all.

‘Who on earth could that be?’ said Mrs Fairchild. She started towards the door, but Tanya marched ahead of her, her heart pounding. This was it. It
had
to work.

She threw open the door. Already Turpin had vanished out of sight. Slowly, as though puzzled, she stepped out on to the porch, as if to look for whoever had knocked. The door swung shut with a creak, leaving her alone outside.

Quick as a fox, she darted off the porch and delved into her pocket, filling her fist with earth. Then she flung it at the cottage with all her might. It hit the walls and windows, coating it with a scattering of brown freckles. A fine powdery dust hung in the air for a few seconds before dissolving on the breeze . . .

. . . and a deathly stillness settled over Hawthorn Cottage.

20

The Missing Ingredient

T
ANYA STARED AT THE FRONT DOOR, terrified it was going to open at any moment. It remained closed, but a movement at the side of the cottage startled her. Turpin, Oberon and Don emerged from behind a thorny hedgerow.

‘Did it work?’ Don asked in a whisper.

‘I don’t know,’ Tanya mouthed. Then she realised something. ‘Oh, thank goodness! I can talk again!’

Don and Turpin looked sideways at each other.

‘Never mind,’ said Tanya. ‘But it means it must have worked!’ Otherwise, it stood to reason that Gredin would still be controlling her.

‘Of course it worked,’ said Turpin, strolling up the steps to the door. ‘Turpin’s tricks always work! Can’t you smell it?’ She sniffed the air. ‘Magic!’