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
THE 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.
‘Oberon, no!’ Tanya scolded, pulling him away just in time, and Oberon had to make do with licking the melted droplets from his nose.
They walked on, past tea rooms and seashell shops and toddlers having tantrums, until finally the end of the pier was in sight. There, nestled between a shop selling beach towels and buckets and spades and yet another candyfloss stall, she found Pepper’s Pantry, a quaint little café. Though lunchtime was now coming to an end, it was still very busy. All the seats outside in the sun were taken, but there was one tiny table free, half inside the shop, just beneath the awning.
Tanya sat down, hooking Oberon’s leash over the back of her chair. The walk in the heat had left her thirsty. Peering into the glass-fronted counter, she saw that the café boasted home-made ice cream from a nearby dairy and an array of locally sourced fruit juices in beautiful glass bottles – just like the green one she held in her rucksack. Though the contents of the red bottle, plum and raspberry, sounded especially delicious, she remembered what the tree had said:
Don’t use rags or glass of red.
Choose something else, like green, instead.
And so she chose a green bottle, which was apple and pear. As she drank it, she wondered why the Wishing Tree disliked red bottles or rags; it seemed very odd. There had been a number of red bottles on the tree, no doubt left by people who were unable to see the sprite or hear its instructions. Did that mean their wishes had gone unfulfilled?
Still pondering the thought, she was peeling the label from the empty bottle when a flash of movement caught her eye. She glanced towards it – and her hand froze. A tiny girl, no taller than Tanya’s knee, was edging her way over to a nearby table occupied by a family of four. Two pointed ears poked through short, messy fair hair and a single green wing stuck out through a specially made hole in the little brown waistcoat. The wing twitched and buzzed as the fairy moved, and Tanya could see that it was scarred and ragged, like something had once attacked it. She guessed that this was a grisly clue as to what had happened to the other missing wing.
As well as being unusually large, the fairy’s feet were dirty and bare, and an unsightly tuft of frizzy hair sprouted from each big toe. The feet scampered over the floor, trampling over a dropped sandwich crust and squelching through a slice of tomato without a care. Then, by a chair that was tucked beneath the table, the revolting feet stopped.
Tanya’s eyes travelled up in time to witness the fairy’s grubby fingers delving into an expensive-looking handbag that was hanging over the back of the chair. The fingers emerged with a crisp five-pound note which was swiftly stuffed into a brown sack slung over the fairy’s back. Tanya stared helplessly at the owner of the bag, a woman with a mouthful of cream scone, willing her to see. But of course she couldn’t and, as the fairy skipped from table to table, pilfering pockets and helping itself to the contents of handbags, it was clear that nobody else could see it, either.
And the little thief didn’t stop there. Right under the noses of the oblivious waitresses, it leaped on to the glass counter and slid down the other side. There it waited until every back was turned before craftily sliding the glass doors open and stealing a meat pie and an iced bun. These were carefully wrapped in napkins before joining the other stolen goods in the brown sack.
The fairy clambered back over the counter, licking icing from its fingers. The smug look on its face sent Tanya’s heart pumping with rage, for now the cheeky little beast was heading right for her table. Oberon, who had fallen asleep on Tanya’s feet, was given nothing more than a dismissive look before the fairy turned its attention to Tanya’s rucksack. Before she could help herself, Tanya snatched up the bag and hugged it fiercely to her chest.
‘Don’t even think about it, you nasty little thief!’ she whispered.
The fairy stopped dead, its eyes huge with shock. It regarded Tanya warily, then recovered itself. Its eyes narrowed to slits and its lips drew back over its teeth in an ugly snarl.
‘Put it back,’ Tanya said through gritted teeth, hoping her voice was low enough not to attract anyone else’s attention. ‘Put it all back. Now.’
‘Shan’t!’ the fairy retorted with an infuriating smirk. ‘You can’t make me!’
It slunk under another table. It was right, of course. What could Tanya do? Even if she tackled it and managed to get the stolen items back, how could she return them to their owners without looking as though she herself was guilty of stealing them? Besides, she thought in disgust, she wouldn’t want anyone to eat the pie or the iced bun after the fairy’s dirty little fingers had mauled them.
Dimly aware that her hands had clenched into fists on the tabletop, she watched as the thieving fairy approached its next victim, a young man reading a book. Only this time the fairy did something quite unexpected. Instead of reaching for a pocket, it pored over the man’s boot, scratching its chin before pulling the knot free and deftly unravelling the shoelace.
Tanya frowned in confusion. Surely the fairy wasn’t going to attempt to steal the man’s boots? They’d be far too difficult to make away with! This time, she realised, there was something she could do.
She leaned closer to the man at the table. ‘Excuse me?’ she began.
The man looked up. ‘Yes?’
‘Your shoelace is undone.’ She glanced under the table. The fairy had pulled the lace completely free and was now stuffing it int
o the sack with everything else. Odd, she thought. Perhaps it doesn’t want the boot after all . . .
The man raised his eyebrows. Clearly, he thought Tanya was odd. Nevertheless, he gave her a polite smile. ‘Uh, thanks.’ He bent down, just as the end of the shoelace vanished into the sack. ‘Oh . . .’ He looked confused now. ‘I must have lost it altogether. That’s strange.’
What would it want with one shoelace? Tanya wondered.
The fairy shot a victorious look at Tanya and hissed like a threatened cat. Then it took off at remarkable speed, dragging its stolen cargo behind it. Tanya stood up quickly, jolting Oberon from his snooze. A thought had struck her, and suddenly she had a very strong feeling about what the shoelace was for – and where it would lead her.
‘Well, I hope you find it,’ she gabbled, grabbing her rucksack and Oberon’s leash. ‘I have to go now!’
With that, she took off, pushing clumsily past the other tables. She heard tuts and exclamations of, ‘Well, really!’ but she did not slow down or stop to apologise. This, she knew, might be her only chance. Once out of the café and back on the pier, she looked this way and that before glimpsing a brown blur headed in the direction of the pier’s entrance.
She raced after it, dodging people right and left, all the while trying not to lose sight of the small, wily figure that was weaving in and out of people’s legs with ease, sometimes causing them to stumble. On it went, and on, snatching a newspaper from a coffee-shop table and a bag of candyfloss from a stall as it went. Both went into the brown sack. Soon, almost at the end of the pier, Tanya could feel herself slowing. Her forehead and upper lip were wet with sweat. She couldn’t keep up with it for much longer . . .
Just then, it made a sharp turn to the right, vanishing into a games arcade. Tanya stopped and waited, watching the exit closely. She didn’t think the fairy knew that it had been followed, but she held back all the same, just in case this was a cunning trick to draw her into the arcade and then lose her.
Oberon gave a little whine and looked up at Tanya, as if to ask why the chase was over.
‘It isn’t,’ she told him, stroking his nose. ‘But you have to wait outside now – dogs aren’t allowed in.’ She tied his leash to a nearby drainpipe and stepped inside. It was dark and hot from so many people crowding round the machines or queuing at the kiosk to change notes into coins. It smelled stale: of money and old chip fat. The carpet was sticky beneath her feet. Music jangled, voices chattered and coins clattered. She edged her way around, trying to concentrate on her search for the fairy thief, but there was no sign of it.
Working her way backwards to the rear of the arcade, Tanya was beginning to think that perhaps she had been fooled after all, and that maybe the fairy had cleverly led her inside and then dodged her. She sighed, noticing a rolled up five-pound note on the floor. It must have been dropped by a tall, thin youth who was playing alone on the shooting range. She knelt to pick it up for him, then snatched her fingers back just in time as a battered black boot came out of nowhere, trapping the note in place. A brown hand flashed before her eyes, scooping it up.
Tanya leaped up, finding herself face to face with the black-haired boy who had been climbing the Wishing Tree. He stared at her for a moment, as if trying to place her, then recognition crossed his face.
‘Oh, not you again!’ he said, wrinkling his nose.
‘Yes, me again,’ Tanya retorted. ‘And don’t you screw up your nose at me. Where are your manners?’
‘Forgotten them.’ The boy turned his back on her, but found his path barred by the youth who had dropped the money.
‘What’s the matter?’ the black-haired boy asked, unrolling the note from its tight curl. ‘Lost something?’
The older boy stared at the money, confusion spreading across his thin face. ‘I thought . . . I thought I dropped something . . .’
The black-haired boy gave a cheeky grin and, still clutching the five-pound note, pretended to search the dirty carpet by his feet. ‘Can’t see anything here. You must be mistaken.’
The older boy nodded and scratched his head, then turned back to the machine he’d been playing. The black-haired boy slipped the money into his pocket and sauntered off, whistling.
Tanya marched after him and tapped him on the shoulder, hard. ‘That’s stealing!’ she said.
The boy turned round and crossed his arms. ‘Says who?’
‘Says me,’ Tanya answered, defiant.
‘Really? How do you know whose money it was? Did you see him drop it?’
Tanya hesitated. ‘Well, no . . . but—’
‘Exactly. I was the one who dropped it. It’s mine. Now go and find someone else to annoy.’ He started to move away again.
Tanya’s cheeks began to burn, partly from anger and partly from embarrassment. Had she made a mistake and accused a stranger of stealing without any solid proof? A stranger who was the only other person she knew who could see fairies, and to whom she desperately wanted to speak? She swallowed. ‘Wait. Please. I’m sorry.’ She slipped her rucksack off her shoulders and reached into it. ‘I came here to look for you.’
The boy paused. ‘Why?’
‘To give you this.’ Tanya pulled the wish bottle out of her bag. She held on to it tightly, half expecting him to grab it and run.
‘You came all this way to return it?’ the boy asked. ‘You shouldn’t have bothered. I can leave another wish, if I want to.’
Tanya watched him curiously. Despite his casual manner, the way the boy’s eyes kept creeping over the bottle told her that he wanted it back. Very much indeed.
‘I didn’t read it, in case you were wondering,’ she said.
The boy shrugged. ‘Don’t care if you did.’ He held out his hand. ‘Seeing as you’re here, I might as well take it.’
Tanya held the bottle out and his hand closed round it. ‘There was one other thing.’
The boy gave the bottle a light tug, but Tanya tightened her grip.
‘I know you can see fairies.’
The boy snorted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been reading about that stupid tree, haven’t you? Well, it’s just a story, a legend.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Tanya said. ‘You know it’s real and so do I. I heard the tree talking. And I heard you speaking to it. I know you can see fairies, because I can see them, too.’
A sudden scurrying movement caught her eye, down by the boy’s foot. She released the wish bottle into the boy’s hand, a slow smile spreading across her face.
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he muttered, but he sounded less sure of himself now.
Tanya raised her eyebrows. ‘I think I do,’ she said. ‘Because there’s a fairy with very hairy toes putting a stolen shoelace into your boot right at this moment.’
The fairy thief looked up, guilt and surprise etched on to her face. She had been so intent on threading the lace into the boot that she hadn’t even noticed Tanya watching. She gave a squeak and climbed, monkey-like, up the boy’s clothes to sit on his shoulder, clutching her bag of loot to her tightly.
Tanya folded her arms, waiting. Finally, the boy sighed.
‘Oh, all right.’ He reached up and gave one of the hairy toes a prod. ‘This is Turpin and I’m Henry. Henry Hanratty. Most people call me Ratty.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Ratty,’ she said. ‘I’m Tanya. Now what can you tell me about fairies?’ She glanced at Turpin, who was chewing on a strand of Ratty’s hair and glaring at her. ‘Because you seem to know more than I do.’
‘Plenty,’ said Ratty. He took a deep breath, as though trying to make some kind of decision. ‘But we shouldn’t talk about it here. Follow me.’
4
Nessie Needleteeth
‘THE FIRST THING YOU NEED TO KNOW about fairies,’ said Ratty, ‘is that they can only use magic on you if you let them.’
‘If I let them?’ Tanya said doubtfully. ‘It’s not like I tell every fairy I see that they’re free to do whatever horrible
things that they can think of.’ She clambered over yet another stile into a deserted field, catching a splinter in her thumb as she did so. ‘I ignore them—’ She caught Turpin shooting her a filthy look and quickly added, ‘—Well, mostly.’ She sucked her sore thumb and dropped to the grass, waiting for Oberon to jump over.
‘What sort of horrible things do they do?’ Ratty asked. He was striding ahead now, with Turpin still perched on his shoulder like a parrot.
Tanya hurried to catch up with him. They had been walking for nearly fifteen minutes, leaving the noise and bustle of the pier far behind. Already she missed the breeze from the sea. They had traded it instead for swarms of low-flying midges that kept sticking to Tanya’s damp skin and hair, and by now she was feeling decidedly hot and grumpy.
‘Well, I know the tooth fairy is a lie.’ She swatted a bug from her face. ‘It stole every single one of my teeth and I never got a penny in return, just any disgusting rubbish it had picked up from the street.’ She shuddered. ‘It once left a chewed-up toffee that someone had spat out. I woke up with it stuck to my cheek.’
Ratty began to chuckle, then quickly turned it into a cough as she gave him a stony look. ‘I was once told that the teeth are supposed to be ground into fairy forks and knives,’ he said. ‘But I think that’s just a rumour, probably started by the fairies themselves to get parents to believe it. The truth is, you should never let a fairy have any of your teeth.’
‘Why not?’ Tanya asked.
‘I’ll explain later,’ Ratty said mysteriously. ‘Go on.’
‘They put spells on my hairbrush all the time. It either puts tangles in my hair or makes it stand on end, like a hedgehog—’
Ratty nodded in agreement and pointed to his hair. ‘That’s why I don’t bother combing mine very often.’