Tanya pulled it from her hair. Like the black bird, the leaf was very familiar. It looked just like the ones that Gredin’s clothes were made of. She clenched it in her cold fingers, Turpin’s words replaying in her head: Something came to protect you.
For the first time, she wondered if Ratty had been right about the fairies after all.
Was it really possible that they could be guardians who were looking out for her? That all their cruelty was really trying to keep her away from terrible dangers like the river girl, like Nessie – dangers that Tanya hadn’t even been aware of?
She checked behind them once more, fearful that the strange, doughy creature could have climbed out of the river once more, but there was no sign of it.
‘Turpin, what was that thing?’ she asked. ‘For a moment, you almost seemed to recognise it. And you said a strange word . . . Morghul?’
Turpin looked uncomfortable. ‘It looked like something,’ she admitted finally. ‘A . . . creature Turpin once knew from long ago. But it cannot be.’
‘And what about the man who took Ratty?’ Tanya asked. ‘Did you recognise him?’
Turpin hesitated, then nodded.
‘Who was he?’
But Turpin’s mouth clamped into a tight line and she refused to say a thing more.
12
Brussel Sprouts and Baths
BY THE TIME THEY REACHED THE ROAD which led to the seafront, Tanya and Turpin had stopped dripping, but their clothes still clung damply to their skin. For Turpin, this wasn’t much of a problem as there was only one person who could see her, but, as they wandered along the road and encountered people returning from the pier, Tanya received some very strange looks indeed. Not only was she wet and smeared in river mud, but the mud had a very unpleasant smell to it; rather like stewed cabbage and week-old fish soup.
Turpin was perched on Tanya’s shoulder, and the smell was so close to her nose that it was making her eyes water. However, she hadn’t the heart to tell Turpin to get off, for the cold little body was still trembling into her neck and her damaged wing was quivering.
‘That’s going to need looking at,’ Tanya said. ‘It’s singed and torn in a few places. And please,’ she continued, lowering her voice and trying to speak without moving her lips, ‘stop chewing my hair.’
Turpin spat out the hair sulkily. ‘Tastes like mud anyway.’
Finally, they reached the little path that led to Hawthorn Cottage. Tanya paused and took a breath before starting down it. She had still not figured out what she was going to say to her mother about the mess she was in. Not only that, but in the struggle with Nessie Needleteeth she had lost Oberon’s leash in the river. And, as she neared the cottage, she saw that she had even less time to prepare, for her mother was reading on a chair beside the porch, soaking up the last of the afternoon sun.
She looked up from her book as they approached. Her mouth dropped open and she jumped to her feet, dropping the book on the floor.
‘What on earth . . . what happened to you? Are you hurt?’
Tanya shook her head, with difficulty, as Turpin was still huddled into her neck. ‘No, I’m not hurt. But there was an accident. A bridge behind the castle collapsed into the river. We . . . I fell in.’
‘Come inside quickly, before you catch a chill.’ Mrs Fairchild bundled her through the cottage door. ‘You need a warm bath and a hot drink. That’s right, Oberon, I did say “bath”, and that includes you, too.’
Oberon skulked under the table and hid. A bath was his least favourite thing, even higher on his list of least favourite things than the vet.
‘Stand there and don’t touch anything,’ Tanya’s mother said. She filled the kettle and put it on the stove, then hurried into the bathroom. A moment later, Tanya heard the rush of water as the taps were turned on. She returned with a blanket, which she wrapped round her daughter, almost smothering Turpin in the process. ‘Whatever were you doing behind the castle anyway? It’s lonely over on those fields, and that river is dangerous. Someone at the tea room told me people have drowned in there.’
‘They have,’ Tanya said in a small voice. She adjusted the blanket so Turpin could breathe.
‘Any other girl would be content to stick to the pier,’ her mother continued. ‘They’d be happy to come somewhere like this, but not you. You have to wander off by yourself – or were you with that boy again . . . what’s his name? Ferret?’
‘Ratty,’ Tanya muttered.
‘Yes, Ratty.’ Her mother wrinkled her nose, as though the word tasted unpleasant. She sniffed suddenly. ‘Speaking of which, you smell a bit ratty yourself. What is that revolting stench?’
‘The river mud,’ said Tanya, hanging her head. Turpin squeezed out of the blanket and hopped on to the table, helping herself to a grape from the fruit bowl.
‘Well, I just hope we can get the smell out of that blanket.’
Turpin rolled her eyes and stuffed the grape into her mouth. ‘Grumbly, grumbly grumble,’ she said. ‘Does it ever stop moaning?’
‘Shush,’ said Tanya.
‘Don’t tell me to shush, young lady,’ her mother snapped. ‘I’ve had a horrible morning with all sorts of problems and the last thing I needed was you coming back half drowned and being cheeky.’
‘No . . . I mean, I wasn’t,’ Tanya said helplessly. She threw Turpin an exasperated look, but the fairy was too busy scoffing the grapes to notice. ‘Wait, what do you mean? What problems?’
‘Oh, everything,’ her mother replied. Her expression was sour. ‘First of all I couldn’t find my headache pills. I looked everywhere and then they turned up in the bin – goodness knows how they got there. Then the toaster blew up. Turned out the wire was frayed – it looked like something had chewed through it.’ She shuddered. ‘I telephoned the owner and he insists there aren’t any mice. Then the bottle of milk I opened only yesterday somehow managed to go off. It’s very odd.’
‘Very odd,’ Tanya repeated, frowning.
‘Sounds like fey mischief to me,’ said Turpin, between slurps of grape.
‘That’s just what I was thinking,’ Tanya murmured.
‘Pardon?’ her mother enquired.
‘Nothing.’ Tanya pulled the blanket tighter around herself. ‘Is the bath ready yet?’
‘I’ll go and check.’ Her mother scuttled off, returning a moment later. ‘It’s full. Go and jump in . . .’ Her voice tailed off and she sniffed the air again, making a face.
‘All right, I’m going,’ Tanya said in a huff. ‘You don’t need to keep on sniffing me!’
‘No,’ said her mother. ‘Not you. There’s something else. Can you smell . . . burning?’
Tanya followed her mother into the kitchen, sniffing hard. ‘All I can smell is river mud.’
‘Whatever can it . . . oh, no!’ her mother cried. She rushed to the stove, snatching the little kettle away from the flame. She lifted it up to reveal the bottom. It was blackened and buckled, and a shake revealed it was empty. ‘I must have forgotten to put water into it!’ she said in distress. ‘It’s ruined! I’ll have to buy another one.’
Tanya bit her lip. Her mother hadn’t forgotten at all – Tanya had watched her fill it at the sink with her very own eyes, and it hadn’t been on the stove for long enough to boil dry. Something must have sneaked it off and emptied it, and she had a very good idea of what that something was. Her fists clenched under the blanket as a spiteful voice echoed up through the floorboards.
‘Mother put the kettle on,
Daughter stinks, oh, what a pong!
Mother put the kettle on,
We’ll all have tea!
Thingy took it off again,
And tipped the water down the drain,
Kettle’s ruined – what a pain!
Now all GO AWAY!’
Turpin giggled, then hastily stopped as Tanya shot her a disapproving look.
She swallowed down her anger. Thingy? she thought. Is that what the beastly creature calls itself? She reached
out and touched her mother’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, Mum,’ she said. ‘It could have happened to anyone. Sit down. I’ll make the tea when I’ve had a bath.’
Mrs Fairchild smiled faintly and patted her daughter’s hand. ‘It’s all right, love. I’ll make it. Go and have your bath.’ She turned away, reaching into a cupboard for a saucepan.
With her mother’s back turned, Tanya beckoned to Turpin. ‘This way,’ she whispered. Turpin followed, looking puzzled. ‘You need a bath, too,’ Tanya explained, once they were safely in the bathroom.
Turpin shook her head. ‘Turpin doesn’t like baths.’
‘I can tell,’ Tanya muttered, remembering the fairy’s grubby hands when she had first met her. ‘But that’s tough. I don’t like Brussel sprouts, but I still have to eat them.’
Turpin stared at her in confusion. ‘Brussel sprouts?’
‘What I mean is, we all have to do things we don’t like doing,’ Tanya argued. ‘Look, never mind. I’ll run you a little bath in the sink—’
Turpin stuck out her bottom lip and folded her arms. ‘No. Nope. No way.’
‘Turpin,’ Tanya said sternly. ‘There are all sorts of germs in that river water. Your wing is cut and bleeding, and you need to wash the dirt off it. Otherwise, it could get infected and then it’ll hurt even more. And you might . . .’ She hesitated. ‘You might even lose it.’ She went to the sink and turned the taps on. ‘Come on. You’ll feel much better afterwards.’
Turpin scowled, but Tanya sensed she was winning. She picked a bottle out of her mother’s toiletry bag. ‘You can even have some of this lovely bubble bath,’ she coaxed. ‘It smells like honey.’ She poured a little into the running water. It foamed up nicely.
Reluctantly, Turpin clambered up beside the sink, staring at the frothing water.
‘No peeking,’ she growled finally. She turned her back on Tanya and peeled off her little waistcoat.
Tanya suppressed a smile. ‘No peeking,’ she agreed, shrugging off the muddy blanket. ‘That goes for you, too.’
‘Huh,’ Turpin scoffed.
Fifteen minutes later, Tanya clambered out of the bathtub, freshly scrubbed and mud-free. She wrapped herself in a fluffy bathrobe and pulled the plug, watching as the dull water drained away. Now she was safely back at the cottage, the shock of the day’s events was starting to catch up with her. Her thoughts turned to Ratty. Where was he? Was he safe? She imagined him being held, in a cell somewhere, while shadowy figures demanded information from him. A cold feeling crept into the pit of her stomach.
Splashes from the sink brought her back to the present. Turpin was humming away to herself, even gargling with the soapy water. Tanya also noticed that she had helped herself to her mother’s toothbrush and was using it to scrub her back. She sighed, making a mental note to give it a good rinse later, and to try and replace it without her mother noticing.
She picked up a small towel and offered it to the fairy. ‘Time to get out now, Turpin.’
Turpin gave another splash, sending foam into the air. ‘Don’t want to. Turpin likes having a bath.’
‘I thought you didn’t like baths,’ Tanya said, trying to hide her impatience. ‘You didn’t want to get in and now you don’t want to get out?’
Turpin shrugged. ‘Turpin never had a bath before. How was she to know she would like them?’
‘Never? Then how do you clean yourself?’
‘Like this.’ Turpin licked her arm like a cat washing its paw.
‘I see.’ Tanya rolled her eyes. ‘Come on, out. The water must be getting cold by now, and your toes will be all wrinkled up if you stay in there much longer.’
Turpin stopped splashing. ‘Wrinkled up?’
Tanya nodded. ‘Like raisins.’
The fairy leaped out of the sink, grabbing the towel out of Tanya’s hands. ‘You said Turpin would feel better after a bath!’ she wailed. She bundled herself up in the towel and peered at her feet anxiously. ‘You tricked her! You wanted her to have ugly feet! Turpin does not like baths.’
‘I didn’t trick you,’ Tanya said crossly, looking at the fairy’s feet. They were far less ugly now they were clean. The hairy toes even looked rather sweet. ‘The wrinkles will go in a little while. Stop squawking.’
‘Oh.’ Turpin blinked. ‘Then Turpin does like baths.’
‘Good,’ said Tanya, rubbing at her damp hair with a towel. ‘You can have another one tomorrow.’
Turpin looked at the sink in delight. ‘I can?’
‘Well, yes. Most people have them every day.’ Tanya emptied the sink. ‘Now hold still while I comb your hair.’
The fairy obliged, sitting meekly as Tanya teased out the tangles. By the time she had finished, Turpin’s hair was almost dry and now gleamed like honey. Tanya held up a small mirror. ‘Look how pretty you are underneath all that dirt,’ she said.
Turpin snatched the mirror and preened, pleased with herself. ‘Very.’
‘Ratty won’t recognise you,’ said Tanya. She put the comb down and filled the sink again, rinsing out Turpin’s filthy clothes before wringing them out clean. ‘It’s a warm night. These should be almost dry by the morning—’
She stopped abruptly. Turpin was hunched over the mirror, her shoulders shaking. Her wing had escaped from the towel and was twitching pitifully, and a choked sob emerged from behind her hands.
‘What’s wrong?’ Tanya asked in alarm. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘No,’ Turpin wept. Her voice was muffled. ‘You said that Ratty wouldn’t recognise Turpin . . .’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean it, silly,’ said Tanya. She patted Turpin’s shoulder awkwardly. ‘Not really. I only meant that he’d be surprised, that’s all—’
The fairy lowered her hands and glared at her through red-rimmed eyes. ‘Turpin knows what you meant,’ she said.
‘Ratty will always recognise his Turpin.’ Her face crumpled again. ‘But what if . . . what if Turpin never finds him?’ She buried her face in the towel again and howled.
Tanya watched her in silence, feeling wretched. ‘Don’t cry, Turps,’ she said eventually. ‘You’ll see Ratty again, I’m sure of it.’
‘How can you be sure?’ Turpin said, sniffling.
‘Because I’m going to help you find him.’ The words came out more forcefully than intended, sounding much more confident than she felt.
Turpin looked up at her, eyes lit with hope. ‘But how? We don’t know where he’s been taken!’
‘I know,’ said Tanya. ‘But don’t forget, we’ve been left a clue.’ She picked up the wet clothes and pulled the red envelope out of her pocket. It was now soggy and smudged in places, but still readable. ‘We have Ratty’s letter.’ She skimmed through it again until she came across the part she was looking for. ‘Go to the place we went to on our first night in this town – the place I could tell a story about. There you’ll find instructions on what to do and where to go next.’
She placed the letter on top of the dresser to dry out. ‘Now I know that doesn’t exactly take us straight to him, but if his father did manage to leave those instructions before he vanished then maybe we can find them. It might help us to figure out what’s going on and where Ratty might have been taken.’
Turpin nodded slowly.
‘But I’m going to need your help,’ Tanya continued. ‘I know this secret place is the castle dungeon, but it’s going to be tricky to get in. Ratty mentioned something about a passage leading into it from an old well. Do you know it?’
‘Yes.’ Turpin nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, Turpin knows it. She went there with Ratty on the first night in Spinney Wicket.’
‘Good,’ said Tanya. ‘Is it easy to get in without being seen?’
Turpin’s face fell. ‘No. Is in a very busy place near the pier. Lots of people.’
‘So you went when it was dark then?’ Tanya guessed. ‘When everything was closed?’
‘At night, yes,’ said Turpin. ‘When no one was around.’
Tanya nodded. ‘T
hen that means we’ll have to do the same, you and I. We’ll do it tonight. We’ll sneak out and find the well.’ A chill ran its icy fingers up her spine at the thought of the dangers that lay ahead. She pushed her fears to the back of her mind. Ratty was depending on her, and being afraid wasn’t going to help him. ‘Now dry your eyes,’ she told Turpin. ‘We need to fix your wing.’
13
The Grudge-keeper
TURPIN WIPED HER EYES AND BLEW HER nose into the towel with a great, trumpeting honk. Tanya politely looked the other way, poking through the toiletry bag. At the bottom she found a travel sewing kit and some antiseptic cream.
‘I could try to sew the torn bits,’ she said. ‘But it’s going to hurt.’
‘No, silly!’ Turpin squeaked. ‘Needles are steel, which has iron in. It will burn.’
‘Oh.’ Tanya’s face fell. ‘Then it’ll have to be the cream. It might sting a little at first.’ She unscrewed the cap and dabbed some on.
Turpin’s eyes watered, but she managed not to squirm too much. ‘What we need,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘is Spidertwine.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Is a magical thread,’ said Turpin. ‘Made by the fairies. Almost invisible, but unbreakable to humans. Very, very strong and can stitch cuts together to heal perfectly.’
‘And do you have any?’ Tanya asked.
‘No,’ the fairy said gloomily.
‘Then we’ll just have to hope for the best,’ said Tanya. She replaced the lid on the tube of cream and put it back. They left the bathroom and went into the bedroom, where Tanya spread Turpin’s damp clothes on the windowsill to dry. Shortly after, Mrs Fairchild called Tanya to the kitchen.
‘Wait here,’ she told Turpin.
Turpin pouted. ‘Why?’
‘Because I can’t talk to two people at once,’ said Tanya. ‘Not when one is a fairy. It’s too confusing.’ She tugged on some fresh clothes and hung her bathrobe on the chair. ‘We’ll need to find you something to wear, too.’