One Wish (6 page)

‘But where did she get those awful teeth?’ Tanya asked.

‘The story goes that her teeth rotted away,’ said Ratty. ‘She used to just drown people by dragging them under the water, until the day an old seamstress disappeared crossing the river. They never found her, only shreds of her clothes and her empty needlework basket. They say Nessie got her, and took all her pins and needles to use them for teeth.’

He kicked at a dandelion, sending its seeds flying through the air. ‘So. Now you know to stay away from the water. And keep the dog away, too. She prefers children, but she’s really not that fussy, not when it’s been a while since she last fed.’ He chuckled. ‘Come on, let’s get going. You’ve gone a funny colour – you’re almost as green as she was!’

He headed for the bridge.

‘Wait,’ Tanya called after him. ‘Is it safe to cross the river?’ She stared at the bridge, trying to guess the distance between its bottom and the water, and remembering just how long those green, sinewy arms had been . . .

‘It’s safe,’ Ratty replied, stepping on to the bridge. ‘Many things aren’t, but this is. Trust me.’

5

Protection

I
T WAS ONLY WHEN SHE WAS HALFWAY across the bridge that Tanya realised that the items Ratty had given her – the salt and the rusty nail – were still clenched in her palm.

‘So what are these for?’ she asked, tiptoeing across the wooden boards with one eye on the water, waiting for any sudden movement, or a creeping green hand. None came. ‘I know you said protection, but how do they work?’

Ratty glanced over his shoulder. ‘Oh. Well, the nail is iron. Fairies hate iron – if it touches them, it burns. The same with salt. It’s pure, so fairies can’t bear it. Their skin will bubble up and blister if it comes into contact with them. You can even use it to stop fairies getting into a house or a room by putting a trail of salt in front of the door or on the window ledge. They can’t cross it.’

Tanya stared at the nail and the little packets of salt, now slightly damp from being clamped in her hand. Such ordinary, everyday objects and yet, according to Ratty, they held great power. ‘Anything else?’

Ratty reached up and gave his neckerchief a tweak. ‘The colour red. Wearing it acts as camouflage and stops fairies from seeing you, but only for as long as you can keep quiet. They can still hear you, so if you speak it breaks the spell.’

‘That must be why the Wishing Tree says not to use red bottles or rags,’ Tanya realised. ‘Where did you learn all this?’ It was clearly true, for Turpin was stalking along behind Ratty with a scowl on her face and her fingers in her ears, looking disgusted at the conversation.

‘Pa taught me,’ said Ratty. ‘He learned most of it from books, I think. Not those silly books for children, where the fairies are all kind and pink and sparkly. Books about real magic and folklore. All of this dates way back, you know. People have always believed in fairies, though not so much these days. Heck, they used to be afraid of them! They’d leave out food to keep them happy, in case the fairies ruined their crops or turned the milk sour.’ He paused and leaned over the handrail at the side of the bridge, motioning to the river below.

‘Don’t,’ Tanya said, feeling on edge. ‘We should get off the bridge, it’s dangerous.’ She gazed across the murky water below them. Somewhere, beneath those quiet ripples, Nessie Needleteeth was waiting, flexing those murderous fingers of hers. She shuddered violently.

‘Actually, we’re quite safe,’ said Ratty. ‘Even without the iron and the salt.’

‘We are?’

‘Running water,’ he said. ‘Crossing it will break an enchantment or lose a fairy that’s chasing you. That’s why Nessie moves so quickly. If someone crosses the river before she gets to them, she can’t touch them.’

‘Salt, running water, wearing red, iron,’ Tanya muttered, committing them to memory. ‘If only I’d known about this sooner.’

‘There’s one more thing,’ said Ratty. He set off again and in a few swift steps they were off the bridge. Despite what she had just learned, Tanya couldn’t help feeling relieved.

‘Perhaps the most useful of all,’ Ratty continued. ‘Something you can always do to protect yourself from harmful magic, even if you have nothing I’ve just mentioned.’ He gave a knowing smile. ‘Turn something you’re wearing inside out.’

‘Inside out,’ Tanya repeated. ‘Right. That makes absolutely no sense, you know.’

Ratty chortled. ‘Who said it had to make sense? Fairies make no sense.’ He glanced at Turpin, who was sneakily listening in. ‘No offence. All you need to know is that these things work.’

They were now in a wide meadow, lushly carpeted with thick, green grass. Three horses were visible a short distance away and, beyond them, a cluster of stables. As they drew nearer, one of the horses looked up with interest and began trotting towards them. Having just removed Oberon’s leash, Tanya wondered whether she should put it back on.

‘Why is it coming towards us?’

Ratty reached into another one of his pockets and pulled out a carrot. ‘Because she knows she’ll get a treat. Don’t worry, she’s friendly.’ He snapped the carrot into three, offering the first piece to the shimmering, black horse who had approached. She took it from him, crunching loudly, and he rubbed her nose. ‘Here.’ He offered Tanya a piece of carrot. ‘Ever fed a horse?’

She hesitated. ‘No. I rode one once at the beach when I was little, but I’ve never been near one since.’

‘Go on, take it,’ said Ratty. ‘She’s very gentle, I promise. Just hold your hand flat, like this, so you don’t accidentally get bitten.’

Tanya took the piece of carrot and mimicked him. The horse’s velvety nose tickled her palm and with a quick crunch and a swallow the carrot was gone. She stroked its nose, the way Ratty had done, and felt a surge of pleasure as the horse nuzzled her in return.

‘She’s a beauty, isn’t she?’ Ratty said, his voice full of admiration. ‘I call her Morrigan. It means “great queen”.’ He fed her the last piece of carrot, then took a quick glance about the meadow before taking her mane and hoisting himself cleanly on to her back. He held out his hand to Tanya. ‘Come on.’

‘Up there?’ Tanya blinked in surprise. ‘But there’s no saddle!’

‘It’s fine,’ Ratty assured her. ‘We’ll go slowly. It’s not far now.’

‘Then perhaps we should just walk,’ said Tanya.

‘We could, but this is more fun,’ Ratty persisted. ‘Look, there’s a tree stump over there. You can use it to climb on.’ He clicked and steered Morrigan to the stump. A minute and a scramble later, Tanya was sitting behind him. ‘Hold on,’ he said.

Tanya did as he told her, but it was surprisingly calm and steady. They set off at a walk, keeping to the edge of the meadow in the shade of the trees. Things whispered and shuffled in the branches above them, and Tanya knew it wasn’t just birds and squirrels. There were voices, too – fey voices – but they were too low to make out any words clearly. Despite the feeling of being watched, Tanya was enjoying herself and the gentle sway and shuffle of the horse’s movements. Oberon trotted along beside them, his nose in the grass and tail in the air.

‘Who do the horses belong to?’ Tanya asked.

Ratty shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Pa says he’s seen people mucking out the stables a few times, but it’s always early.’ He patted the horse’s flank and looked up, gently bringing Morrigan to a halt. ‘Here we are.’

Tanya looked around them, but could see only trees and endless meadow. ‘This is where you live?’ she asked uncertainly. She peered between the trees, fairy-tale images of gingerbread cottages and woodcutters’ log cabins flashing into her mind.

‘This is the place,’ Ratty confirmed. ‘Hop off then.’

Tanya swung her leg back and slid off the horse, landing lightly on the grass. Ratty dismounted, running his hand over Morrigan’s shimmering, black coat. ‘Go on then, girl,’ he murmured. ‘Back you go.’ Morrigan gently butted his hand, then turned and headed back across the meadow, breaking into a canter.

‘Right then,’ said Ratty. ‘Through here.’ He pushed a branch back and stepped further into the little copse.

Tanya followed, dry twigs and leaves crumbling underfoot. A few steps in, she caught a glimpse of duck-egg blue through the dense greenery. They were heading towards it. A short way in there was a clearing and, finally, Tanya was able to see Ratty’s mysterious home. A blue camper van stood beneath the trees. Gingham curtains were drawn across the windows, making it impossible to see inside. In front of the van, a blackened pot hung over the charred remains of a campfire. Beyond that, drying clothes dangled from a thin line strung between two trees.

‘Home sweet home,’ said Ratty. He reached into the neck of his shirt and pulled out a grubby-looking string with a key hanging from it, unlocking the side of the van. He heaved the sliding door open and hopped up the step, pulling back the curtains. ‘Come in.’

Tanya followed, curious. She had never been in a camper van before. Inside, there was a small table with a long, cushioned bench either side of it, which she supposed doubled as beds. A tiny kitchen area was directly behind it, with a two-ring cooking hob, a kettle, toaster and a sink. Every nook was crammed with cupboards and shelves high and low, and, though a little old and shabby-looking, it was clean and tidy.

‘Pa must be out,’ said Ratty. He fetched a large bowl and filled it with water, then placed it outside for Oberon, who lapped at it gratefully.

‘Is that him?’ Tanya asked, noticing a framed photo on a nearby shelf. It showed a slightly younger Ratty with a smiling, handsome man. Like Ratty, he had very blue, almost turquoise eyes and thick, black hair that reached his shoulders. Against his dark skin, his teeth were dazzling white. He wore a silver hoop in each ear, giving him the appearance of a gypsy or a pirate. He looked, Tanya decided, like the kind of person who would know about fairies and she wanted to meet him. Very much indeed.

‘Will he be back soon?’ she asked.

Ratty was clattering about in the kitchen, pouring something fizzy into two tall glasses. ‘I never know with Pa. He’s normally back before dark, but sometimes he stays out all night.’ He placed the two glasses on the table and motioned for Tanya to take a seat. She started to slide on to one of the benches, but an angry chittering stopped her.

Turpin glowered in the doorway, stamping her feet. ‘Not there, stupid girl!’ she cried.

‘Oh,’ said Ratty apologetically. ‘She likes to sit that side.’ He patted the other bench. ‘Best sit here.’

Tanya squeezed into the narrow seat, silently taking a sip of her drink. It tasted of elderflowers, and she gulped the rest of it quickly, thirsty after the long walk. Ratty made to sit next to her, but was interrupted by a further protest from Turpin, who pounded the side of the van with her fist.

‘Whoops. Sorry, Turps.’ He scrambled to the door. ‘I almost forgot.’ He reached above and removed a sprig of dried red berries and leaves from a hook above the entrance. There was one, Tanya saw, in each of the windows, and Ratty quickly moved around the van, collecting them all.

‘What are those?’ Tanya asked.

‘Rowan berries.’ Ratty tossed the bunches into the driver’s seat in the front of the van. ‘It’s another deterrent to fairies. We put them in all the entrances whenever we go out to make sure we don’t have any unwelcome guests while we’re not here. Unfortunately, they work on Turpin, too.’

Tanya didn’t find this unfortunate at all – quite the opposite, in fact – but of course she did not say so. ‘Does she live in here with you then?’ she asked.

‘Most of the time,’ said Ratty. ‘But when the weather’s fine like it is now she sometimes makes a nest outside in the trees.’

Once the offending berries were out of sight, Turpin stomped into the van, nose in the air. She hopped on to the seat opposite Tanya and proceeded to empty her sack of loot on to the table. Out came the newspaper, the meat pie and iced bun, money, plus a few bits of fluff from people’s pockets and bags. Ratty brushed the fluff aside and hungrily unwrapped the food.

‘It was for you,’ she realised. ‘Turpin stole all these things for you.’

She regretted saying this immediately when Ratty lowered his eyes, embarrassed.

‘Sometimes there’s not much to eat,’ he explained. ‘Not fresh food anyway. Pa isn’t much of a cook – most of what we eat is out of tins.’ He offered the meat pie to Tanya. ‘Want some?’

She shook her head. She wasn’t hungry, but, even if she had been, knowing Turpin had handled it would have been enough to put her off. Besides, as Ratty crammed the pie into his mouth, she realised just how hungry he was. He broke off a small piece for Turpin, who scoffed it noisily. The iced bun didn’t last much longer. Finally, Ratty wiped his mouth and took a long drink. When he’d finished, Turpin leaned head first into his glass, lapping like a dog. Tanya watched, unable to mask her disgust, yet Ratty didn’t seem to mind. When Turpin finally came up for air, she belched in Tanya’s direction.

‘Charming,’ Tanya muttered.

Turpin grinned maliciously.

‘So you’ve never met anyone else who can see fairies?’ Ratty asked.

‘No,’ Tanya replied.

‘That must be difficult.’

She nodded. ‘I’ve always wished that there was someone I could talk to about them, just to know that it’s not only me. That I’m not . . .’

‘Mad?’ Ratty finished.

‘Yes.’ She felt her face reddening. ‘Because sometimes it’s easier to think you
are
mad than to have no one that believes you.’

They both fell silent. Outside, a breeze ruffled the trees and sent whispers around the camper van. With the sunlight streaming in, it was peaceful now, but in the dark, Tanya suspected, it would feel quite different.

‘Don’t you get scared being out here at night?’ she asked.

‘Not any more,’ said Ratty. ‘I used to, when I was younger. But we move around a lot. We don’t always stay in places like this. Sometimes it’ll be on a cliff top where you can see for miles, and when it’s dark all you can see are the stars. Or maybe we’ll stop on a road by the beach. On those nights the only thing you can hear is the sea. It depends where we are, which town we’re in.’