One Wish (3 page)

And, as she held that very thought, the knots in the gnarled tree trunk twisted and rearranged themselves. Two of the knots opened . . . and blinked. Below them, a third knot puckered before opening in an enormous yawn.

Tanya stood rooted to the spot, unable to tear her eyes from the face in the tree. The tree-eyes – dewy and green – fixed upon her and the mouth opened once more to reveal a twiggy, crooked set of teeth.

‘One wish, what’ll it be?’ it said. ‘For you have found the Wishing Tree.’

2

The Second Sight

T
ANYA KNEW HER MOUTH WAS OPENING and closing, but she simply couldn’t find any words with which to respond. Naturally, she was used to odd things happening around her; seeing fairies meant that there was little that surprised her. But the tree had spoken. Spoken! Whoever knew there was such a thing as a talking tree, except in fairy tales? And however was one supposed to reply?

Oberon appeared equally baffled. As far as he knew, trees were for sniffing and marking territory, not talking. He cowered and pressed himself into the back of Tanya’s legs. She reached down and gave his head a comforting pat, and was still searching for the right words when the tree, evidently not a patient sort, grew tired of waiting for her to answer and spoke again.

‘
One wish only, understood?

There are rules, so listen good.

Wish for more wishes – that’s a no.

Away with nothing you will go!

No one killed or back from the dead,

And what you’ve wished can’t be unsaid.

No changing the past, no future revealed.

Some things must remain concealed.

No exchange, no guarantees,

So make your choice responsibly.

Every wish comes at a price,

Whether it’s nasty or it’s nice.

So what’ll it be? Tea with the Queen?

Wings for a day? Pay back someone mean?

Become stinking rich, win your true love’s heart?

Grow taller, run faster, become super smart?

Talk to your dog or turn into a cat?

Eat chocolate all day and never get fat?

Find something lost, have beauty or youth?

Wish for a liar to tell the truth!

Walk on the moon, achieve instant fame?

One wish and the world could know your name.

Be sure to use your common sense,

Each wish comes with a consequence.

For wings are tricky to explain.

Fame means no peace for you again.

Riches come, but at what cost?

While magical love is easily lost.

And it’s all very well scoffing chocolate all day,

Being skinny’s no good if your teeth rot away!

So take your time and use your head.

There’s nothing you’d rather wish instead?

Now speak it loud and speak it clear

Or write it down and hang it here.

Don’t use rags or glass of red.

Choose something else, like green, instead.

Then like a little seedling planted

Your wish shall surely soon be granted.
’

The tree stopped. Stared expectantly. Yawned again and then hiccuped. Tanya was still at a loss for what to say, but now her mind was racing with possibilities. One wish!

What do I wish for?

The answer came almost immediately, floating before her like one of the wish bottles on the breeze.

I wish for Dad to come back. For him and Mum to love each other again.

She opened her mouth, ready to utter the words. Her face was hot with anticipation. And then a voice, a
new
voice, sounded from somewhere within the branches above, shocking her into silence.

‘Yes, yes, I heard you the first time,’ it said crossly. ‘You don’t need to keep repeating your silly rules!’

Tanya shifted position quietly, peering up into the leafy branches. Looking this way and that, at first she could see nothing beyond the foliage and swaying glass. Then she spotted something: a boot. An extremely battered black boot, so battered that the toe had almost worn away to a hole. The boot gave way to an equally tatty trouser leg, all of which was balanced on a high, sturdy branch some way above her head. A low grumbling followed.

‘. . . String, string . . . where did I put that string?’

There was a rustle in the branches and a handful of leaves floated past Tanya’s head. Whoever the boot belonged to still had no idea they were not alone and was rummaging in their pockets, presumably for the lost string. Eventually, after much fumbling and several grunts of exasperation, a hand reached down to the boot and began pulling the shoelace from it.

‘This’ll have to do.’

Tanya hesitated, feeling like an intruder. Part of her wanted to slink away, but another more curious part wanted to find out who the person up in the tree was, because she had questions. When the tree had first spoken, she had assumed that she was witnessing another element of the fairy world. The fact that this other person could also hear the tree meant one of two things: that the person was like her and saw things most people could not, or that this tree was a different kind of magic and could be heard by anyone it chose. Given that Tanya had never met anyone, ever, who shared her strange ability, she thought the second explanation was the most likely.

She was startled from her thoughts by a loud thump in the grass and a muttered, ‘Oh, heck!’ from above.

She looked down. A green glass bottle with a shoelace looped round its neck had landed in a clump of grass just by her foot. Oberon leaped back with a yelp, giving them away.

‘Who’s there?’ the voice demanded. An angry rustling followed. Branches swished and wobbled. The mysterious tree climber was coming down.

Tanya gulped and stooped to pick up the bottle. A scrap of paper was rolled into a tight coil inside. ‘You . . . you dropped this,’ she called eventually, not knowing what else to say.

‘Well, obviously,’ the voice retorted, dripping with sarcasm. Legs dangled in the air for a moment as a branch above shook, then a person not much taller than herself dropped to the leaf-scattered grass.

‘Not so rough!’ the tree snapped. ‘I may look tough, but I’m too old for moves so bold!’

Tanya stared at the boy in front of her. The boy glared back, eyeing the bottle in her hand with suspicion. He was about her age, eleven or twelve, with skin the colour of caramel and the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. His tousled hair was as black and shiny as liquorice, and in need of a good cut. The ends of it brushed against a grubby red neckerchief.

Tanya was aware that the tree’s eyes were flitting between herself and the boy, waiting for one of them to say something. It clearly didn’t like being ignored.

‘How long have you been standing there?’ the boy asked.

‘Not very long,’ Tanya answered. ‘A couple of minutes.’

The boy’s eyes widened.

‘
A-hem!
’ said the tree. Again, neither Tanya nor the boy responded.

‘I heard you talking—’ Tanya began, but broke off as the boy lunged towards her.

Instinctively, she leaped out of his way, only realising at the last moment that he had merely attempted to snatch the bottle from her hand, not harm her. In any case, Oberon jumped up with a warning growl, his huge paws landing squarely on the boy’s scrawny chest. He went down like a skittle, landing hard on his bottom with a breathless ‘Oof!’ before scrambling to his feet again and taking off across the meadow.

Delighted, Oberon let out a trio of barks, as though to say, ‘And don’t come back!’

‘Wait!’ Tanya yelled after the boy. ‘You forgot your wish!’

The scruffy figure, already out of hearing distance, didn’t slow down. In a few seconds, he was merely a speck on the landscape, then was gone from sight. Oberon looked up at her, a ridiculously proud expression on his face. She sighed and scratched his ears. It was typical of Oberon to be afraid of a talking tree, but not hesitate to protect her if he thought she was in real danger.

She examined the glass bottle, wishing she’d had a chance to speak to the boy properly before he ran off. Now she was stuck with his wish and she didn’t know what to do with it. Should she hang it up on the tree, she wondered, or was it bad luck to leave someone else’s wish instead of your own? If only she could find the boy somehow. That way she could give him back his wish and ask him about the tree at the same time.

She twisted the shoelace round her fingers gloomily and stared at the ant-sized figures over at the castle. There was very little chance of bumping into the boy again in a busy seaside town such as Spinney Wicket, not unless she knew where he would be. Her only clue was the tree – if the boy had meant to leave a wish, then he would probably be back again, but Tanya couldn’t wait out in the middle of a meadow for hours on end in the hope that he’d turn up. It would soon grow dark and cold.

Or was the tree her only clue? She looked back down at the bottle again.

‘That’s not your wish so don’t dare peek,’ the tree said unexpectedly, making her jump. ‘Don’t be a nosy little sneak.’

‘I wasn’t going to!’ Tanya said indignantly.

Two bushy clumps of green moss furrowed over the tree’s eyes in a disbelieving frown. ‘Humph,’ it said, before the knots in the bark rearranged themselves and the face vanished.

‘I wasn’t,’ Tanya insisted, even though there was no one to hear her now. ‘I don’t need to.’

There was something on the bottle, raised lettering moulded into the glass. It read:
Pepper’s Pantry
in fancy writing. Underneath, there was an address:
No. 9, The Pier, Spinney Wicket
.

Of course, there was no guarantee that the boy himself had bought the bottle of whatever it was from this place; he could have easily picked it up out of a bin. He could also, Tanya thought grouchily, be on holiday just as she was and be returning home any day soon. But the bottle was a start at least, and it was the only clue she had to go on. She unzipped her rucksack and pushed the bottle inside, then set off towards the castle.

She had barely taken ten steps when she came across a wooden information stand that was almost entirely camouflaged in the meadow. It was choked with bindweed, and what little wood was visible had faded to a mossy green. Tanya cleared some of the weeds. It was little wonder she hadn’t seen it from the tree.

The Wishing Tree of Spinney Wicket,
read the sign.
Estimated to be over two centuries old, this grand elder is Spinney Wicket’s most magical resident. Legend has it that, upon buying the land from his neighbour, one Farmer Bramley and his son began cutting down a number of trees with the intention of planting new crops. When they reached the tree, a small voice called out to the men, pleading with them to stop.

The men lowered their axes, astonished to see the face of a young tree sprite taking form within the bark. The sprite informed them that elder trees, also known as fairy trees, carry vast power. This tree, it warned them, was its home and, if they should chop it down, their crops would fail and their luck would turn rotten. If they spared the tree, however, the sprite would repay them, and any human who so requested, by granting a wish.

The farmer and his son heeded the sprite’s warning and, so it is said, lived long, happy lives with the most successful crops for miles around. Word of their good fortune quickly spread, and soon the tree could barely keep up with the wishes. To prevent wishes being lost or forgotten, the practice of writing them down and hanging them on the tree became common, and continues to prevail.

Today people still journey from far and wide to ask a wish from the tree, though few can claim to have seen the sprite. Those who do are believed to possess the ability to see fairies, otherwise known as the second sight.

So, what are you waiting for? Make a wish! Just be careful what you wish for . . .

‘The second sight,’ Tanya whispered. She had never had her ability, her oddness, described in such a way, but she found that she rather liked it. Instead of sounding peculiar and wrong, it made her feel unique. Special. So the tree could not be seen – or heard – by everyone who approached it. She felt a stir of pity; it must be lonely out here all by itself with hardly anyone to talk to. No wonder it had been so grumpy at being ignored by two people who could actually hear it. Tanya was now certain that the mysterious boy shared this ‘second sight’ and she was determined to find him.

Her own wish forgotten for now, she turned away from the castle and headed back to the little footpath.

‘This way, Oberon,’ she called. ‘We’re going to the pier.’

3

Ratty

T
HE PIER WAS A BUSTLING, JOSTLING, TOE-crushing place, accompanied by the wafting scent of candyfloss mingled with fish and chips, and the strains of carousel music from the nearby amusements. The sun, still high in the sky, beat down on the worn wooden boards beneath Tanya’s feet, and through the gaps in them she could see the grey-blue seawater swirling below.

Everywhere she looked there were penny-drop machines, hook-a-duck stalls and ice-cream carts. Bags of candyfloss were strung above her head like fluffy, pink bunting. Everything was noisy and crowded; it was difficult to take it all in. She paused a moment, trying to make out the numbers on the many shopfronts. Eventually, she spotted one, number seventy-five, on a nearby souvenir shop, and groaned. Number nine, the one she was looking for, must be right at the other end of the pier.

She tried to set off, but was held in place by strong resistance at the other end of Oberon’s leash. A little girl had wandered up to pat him, a sticky hand in his fur. In her other hand, she held a melting ice-cream cone, which was dripping tantalisingly on to Oberon’s large, brown nose. Unable to resist, he went in for a crafty lick of the cone. The child didn’t seem to mind.