All of her clothes had been ripped from the hangers and were strewn at the bottom of the wardrobe. She knelt down and picked up a crumpled dress, gasping sharply. The arms, neck and even the hem had all been sewn together in the same horrid brown wool. Her hand shaking, she dropped the dress and picked up her favourite jeans. Once again, the waist and ankles were tightly stitched. There was no way into them except to unpick the wool. She turned over garment after garment. Every one was the same.
Angry tears stung her eyes. She gulped them back and went to the chest of drawers, pulling it open. Once again, everything inside had been rummaged through, sewn up and savagely thrown back in. There was not a single piece of clothing untouched, not even a sock. The vicious little beast must have been sewing practically all night.
Tanya closed the door quietly and wiped her eyes. She wouldn’t let it see her cry. The only thing she had to wear was what she stood in now: her pyjamas. Her mother wouldn’t like that, but it was better than delaying any longer. She pulled a comb through her hair quickly and hurried to the breakfast table, ready for another scolding. Her mother gave a disapproving sniff, but said nothing as she buttered her toast.
They ate in silence, Tanya avoiding her mother’s eyes. The food was lukewarm now, but it did at least take the unpleasant taste of the damp wool from Tanya’s mouth. Even so, she was unable to enjoy a single mouthful. All she could think of was the work set out for her when she returned to her room. It was going to be a long morning and hers would be spent unpicking stitches.
By midday Tanya had cheered up a little. After helping to wash up and clear the breakfast things, which had softened her mother’s mood, she’d hidden the horrible china doll under the bed, then managed to snip at the stitches in the bedding and most of her sewn-up clothes and return them to normal. Well, almost. Like her pyjamas, some of her things now had permanent holes in from the thickness of the wool. She had wondered how the fairy had even managed to pull the wool through some of the items, but, upon closer inspection, it looked as though the holes had been bitten. It really had gone to a lot of trouble. She’d still had a drawer of things left to do when her mother called her from the room, suggesting they use the rest of the morning to explore the castle together.
Now, as they stood at the top of the castle looking out over the ramparts, Tanya fervently hoped that when they returned to the cottage the fairy wouldn’t have repeated its handiwork. She pushed the thought from her mind, determined not to let it spoil things. The sun beat down heavily on top of her head and, though a deceptive breeze whipped her dark hair around her face, the heat was stifling.
The climb to the uppermost tower had been a weary one. Most people, her mother included, were now fanning themselves and admiring the view, while listening to the tour guide’s history of the castle. Tanya tried to pay attention as tales of past owners, treacherous plots and deadly battles were recounted, but her mind kept drifting as she stared into the distance. Below her, visitors flooded in and out of the castle. Beyond them, far off, she saw the Wishing Tree, its bottles sparkling in the sun.
‘And like many buildings of its age,’ the guide continued, ‘the castle has several secret passages that have been discovered over the years.’
Tanya’s ears pricked up immediately. The guide had her full attention now, for she had read about secret passages in books and always longed to discover one. There were even stories about secret passages that ran underneath her grandmother’s fairy-infested manor though, after spending many hours scouring the place for them, it was looking increasingly likely that they were just that – stories.
‘Three tunnels have so far been discovered,’ the guide went on. ‘Both were found accidentally when the castle was undergoing repairs. The first leads from a west tower bedchamber to a local pub called The Nobody Inn. The second goes from the kitchens to the site of what was once a farmhouse, and the third from the dungeons to an old well.’
‘Can we see them?’ someone asked.
The guide shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. The first two are only open to the public at certain times of year for special events; the next one is Hallowe’en. And the third is permanently out of bounds along with the rest of the dungeons and the west towers of the castle, for safety reasons.’
At this, Tanya let out a disappointed huff. Her mother laughed.
‘Never mind. There’s a tea room downstairs – how about some lunch? And an ice cream on the pier afterwards?’
But they never made it to the pier for ice cream, for Mrs Fairchild started to feel unwell during lunch. ‘It’s just a headache,’ she said, rubbing her temples. ‘Too much heat, I think. I’m going back to the cottage for a lie-down.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Tanya said, concerned.
‘No, you stay out.’ Her mother gave a weak smile and dug into her purse, producing a ten-pound note. ‘Here. Why don’t you go to the amusements? There’s no need for your day to be spoiled by hanging around the cottage.’
Tanya took the money, feeling a little guilty, but at the same time grateful she didn’t have to return to the cottage just yet. She collected Oberon from the shade of a large tree where they’d left him. He woke from his snooze when Tanya unhooked his leash, thumping his tail at her return.
Tanya stood outside the castle entrance. She didn’t really feel like going to the amusements, not on her own anyway. The heat and the visitors in the night were taking their toll and she was feeling a little sleepy. In addition to that, she needed to decide how to tackle the fairy back at the cottage before it did any lasting damage, and for this she wanted a quiet place to think.
The Wishing Tree glistened in the distance, its jewelled colours like tiny, welcoming flags dancing on the breeze. It was all the persuasion she needed. She set off, leaving the castle behind her. Oberon ran off ahead, half-heartedly chasing a rabbit which escaped him easily. Tanya found a sturdy stick and threw it a few times, but soon gave up. Oberon had never quite understood the rules of ‘fetch’, preferring instead to play tug of war whenever she tried to wrestle the stick from him.
He became less boisterous as they neared the tree, staying close to Tanya and eyeing it suspiciously. Sure enough, Tanya saw the tree peeking at her as she approached, and for a split second she could have sworn it looked pleased to see her. Perhaps she was right and the tree was lonely out here.
It snapped its eyes shut when it saw her looking.
‘Hello,’ she said quietly. She peered up into the branches, but there was no sign of Ratty or anyone else.
The tree blinked, making a great pretence of waking up. Clearly, it didn’t like to appear too eager. ‘You haven’t left a wish here yet,’ it said, its dewy-green eyes watching her closely. ‘Why ever not, did you forget?’
‘No,’ Tanya answered, remembering how shocked she’d been after meeting Ratty. ‘Not exactly. I was . . . distracted.’
The tree lowered its shaggy moss eyebrows into a frown. ‘It’s not every day you meet a tree as wise and magical as me.’
‘Oh, I know,’ said Tanya earnestly, not wanting to upset it. ‘You’re the loveliest tree I’ve ever met . . .’
The tree preened, breaking out its twiggy smile.
‘It’s just that I was startled by the boy who was here last time,’ she continued. ‘You see, I’ve never met anyone else who can see fairies before.’
‘I’m not a fairy, I’m a sprite,’ said the tree a little huffily. ‘I’ll thank you, girl, to get it right.’
‘Sorry,’ she said quickly.
The tree sniffed. ‘Fey’s the word you’re looking for. It covers fairies, sprites and more.’
‘Fey?’ she repeated, frowning. The word seemed almost familiar and yet she could swear she’d never heard it before.
‘Hmm,’ said the tree. It watched her now with something like sympathy. ‘The second sight is tough to bear,’ it said. ‘Of that I’m sure you’re quite aware.’
‘Yes,’ Tanya agreed.
‘You could be
rid of it, you know,’ the tree added. ‘Now that’s a wish I could bestow.’
‘Really?’ Tanya considered it. It was very tempting. But then she remembered her exchange with the awful thing under the cottage floorboards. She had expressed her wish then to not see fairies and its reply had chilled her to the core.
Be careful what you wish for, it had said. I could easily stamp out your eyes while you sleep . . .
‘No more mischief, no more blame,’ the tree coaxed. ‘Naught to lose, but lots to gain.’
‘I’ll need to think about it,’ she said. ‘Every wish has a consequence, just like you said. I need to make sure I make the right choice.’ And besides, she thought, I’ve left the blasted green bottle back in my rucksack at the cottage.
‘Very sensible you are,’ said the tree. ‘Brighter than you look, by far.’
‘Thanks,’ Tanya muttered, not sure whether the tree was deliberately insulting her or not. She became aware that Oberon had gone very still all of a sudden. At first, she thought he was unnerved by the speaking tree, but then she saw that his gaze was fixed intently on a hedgerow in the distance, his nose twitching.
‘What is it, boy?’ she asked. ‘The rabbit you lost earlier?’
Oberon tilted his head, sniffing the air. He thumped his tail and took off towards the hedgerow.
‘Oberon!’ she called after him, shielding her eyes from the sun. He paid her no attention and instead sped up to a gallop. She squinted at the hedgerow in annoyance, refusing to run after him. When he reached the hedge, he halted abruptly, his tail wagging in a blur as he tugged at something, shaking his head from side to side.
‘Oh, don’t let it be a rabbit,’ Tanya cried. She set off after him in alarm.
‘Still no wish and no goodbye,’ the tree grumbled after her. ‘Sometimes I don’t know why I try!’
‘I’m sorry,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘I will make a wish, I promise. Just not today!’ The tree muttered something else about manners, but she was too far away by then to hear it properly. ‘Oberon!’ she shouted again. ‘Whatever you’ve got there, drop it!’
Oberon did not hear or didn’t care to. He continued to pull at something near the hedge. As Tanya drew closer, she caught a glimpse of red. For one horrible, shocking moment she thought it was the blood of some small animal, and a small cry lodged in her throat. Oberon liked to chase things, but he had never caught anything apart from sticks and balls. She had always convinced herself that, should he corner a creature smaller than himself, he wouldn’t know what to do with it.
She braced herself for a gory sight as Oberon tunnelled further into the hedge, only his wide, wagging bottom sticking out. And then she had another shock as a brown hand poked through from the other side, trying without much success to push the excitable dog away. Tanya slowed to a walk, creeping closer.
‘Will . . . you . . . get . . . away, you . . . stupid . . . mutt!’ a voice panted. ‘Let go, I tell you! Turpin, don’t just sit there chewing my hair. Do something!’
Tanya frowned to herself. ‘Turpin?’ she whispered.
The leaves in the hedgerow parted and a gap appeared. A small, female figure with only one wing squeezed through. Tanya recognised her immediately. This was that nasty fairy friend of Ratty’s – Turpin. She did not notice Tanya, for Oberon must have blocked her view. She launched herself at him, tugging at his tail for all she was worth.
Tanya edged closer. Through the leaves she could see the top of Ratty’s dark head now, his messy, black hair falling over his face. His hands were much browner than usual, for they were covered in earth. There was a small mound of soil in front of him which he was attempting to pat into place. Unfortunately, Oberon had other ideas and, as fast as Ratty’s hands were filling the hole in, Oberon’s large, brown paws were digging it right back out again.
She knelt down. ‘What are you doing?’
Ratty leaped back in shock. ‘Heck!’ he said, recovering himself. He peered through the hedgerow. His face was streaked with sweat and dirt. ‘Don’t sneak up on me like that!’
‘Don’t sneak up on him like that!’ Turpin shrieked. She let go of Oberon’s tail and scurried back to Ratty, giving Tanya’s shin a swift kick as she passed her. Tanya gritted her teeth, but said nothing. It had been hard enough to bruise, but she wasn’t going to give Turpin the satisfaction of complaining about it.
‘So what are you doing?’ she repeated, watching him closely. Was it her imagination or did Ratty look guilty?
‘Nothing.’ He scraped another handful of earth over the mound, avoiding her eyes. ‘Just digging . . . for worms. I want to go fishing, in the river.’
Tanya snorted. ‘Don’t treat me like an idiot. You’re burying something. And Oberon is trying to dig it up.’
Oberon’s ears pricked up at the sound of his name. His thumped his tail and pounced on the hole again, showering her with dirt.
‘Anyway, whatever it is you’re hiding, I don’t care,’ she said truthfully. She had enough secrets of her own to know how annoying it was when other people pried into them. She pointed at Turpin. ‘That little imp of yours did something to me yesterday, some sort of spell.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Ratty said. ‘She can’t do magic, I told you that. Remember?’
‘No, I don’t,’ said Tanya. She ducked her head further to better see Ratty through the twigs and leaves. ‘That’s just the problem. I don’t remember. Whatever she did to me scrambled my memories. Most of yesterday is a blur and I want to know why,’ she demanded.
Turpin flicked a beetle in Tanya’s direction and glared. Ratty sighed and sat back on his heels, raking his hair out of his face. They both watched silently as Oberon thrust his nose into the hole and emerged with something wrapped in red cloth. Tanya stared at it. This was what she had seen, red cloth, not a bloodied animal.
‘Give that here!’ Ratty snatched at it, but Oberon backed away with a satisfied yap and dropped the object out of his reach on Tanya’s side of the hedge. There was a soft thunk and a rattle as it landed on the grass and rolled towards her, the red cloth unravelling.
‘Give it to me,’ Ratty urged.
Tanya reached for the item, intending to hand it back just as the last piece of cloth came away, revealing what was inside. She stared at it in confusion. It was a clear glass jar of odds and ends: a broken necklace, a couple of matches that had already been struck, a bottle top, a pen lid. All sorts of nonsense jammed in there to the brim; strange objects that seemed to hold no value. It was the sort of thing a young child might bury, pretending it was treasures perhaps, but surely Ratty was too old for such games?
‘Turpin, grab it,’ said Ratty. His voice was panicked.
Turpin began to squeeze back through the hedge, but Tanya was too quick. Her sharp eyes had spotted something in the jar and she snatched it away from the fairy’s grasp. ‘That button,’ she said, pointing to a small, white daisy shape within the glass. ‘That’s mine. I lost it yesterday. What’s it doing in this jar?’
‘Nothing!’ Ratty sprang to his feet and began climbing over the bush. ‘It’s not yours. Give it here, will you?’
‘If it’s not mine, then it’s identical,’ said Tanya. ‘And I’d rather have it back on my dress than buried in some hole.’ She unscrewed the jar.
‘Stop – don’t do that!’
She ignored him and delved her hand inside, her fingers brushing against the objects. Immediately, she felt peculiar, like a thousand forgotten dreams had returned to her at once. Voices, faces and places she did not recognise flashed into her mind. She shook herself, her fingers closing round the button.
In that instant, everything she had forgotten from the previous day came tumbling back into her mind, filling the gaps. She gasped. ‘I remember now,’ she said, her hand shaking. The jar fell from her hand to the grass, some of the objects spilling out. Ratty landed next to it, his tanned face flushed. He scrabbled at the objects, shoving them all back in.
‘I re
member it all,’ Tanya whispered. ‘The pier, your father’s camper van, Nessie Needleteeth . . . the ways to protect yourself from fairies . . .’ She closed her eyes, thinking of her ruined clothes. If only she had remembered that part, it could have saved her so much bother. ‘I remember it all.’ She clenched her hand tightly round the button. ‘And I know, somehow, that it’s connected to this button.’ She stared at Turpin, her eyes narrowed. ‘You. You took it, when you came up on my shoulder and pretended to like my hair. And then you . . . you did something, taking my memories.’ Her temper flared. ‘Why, you nasty, sneaky little—’
‘It wasn’t Turpin,’ Ratty interrupted. His voice was subdued.
Tanya scoffed. ‘Stop lying. Of course it was her. That dress was brand-new; the button wouldn’t have fallen off by itself. She made sure she got close enough to me and then she took it!’
Ratty nodded. ‘She took the button,’ he admitted. ‘But only . . . only because I told her to.’ He met her eyes finally, shamefaced. ‘Turpin wasn’t the one who stole your memories, though. It . . . it was me.’
8
The Memory Weaver
‘WHAT?’ SAID TANYA. ‘BUT HOW COULD you . . .? I don’t understand.’
‘You don’t need to understand,’ Ratty muttered. He wrapped the jar in the red cloth again and held on to it. ‘And I didn’t tell Turpin to pinch you. I just needed her to distract you while she stole the button.’
‘Excuse me,’ said Tanya. ‘But you’ve just admitted to stealing my memories. I think you owe me an explanation, and not just of how you did it, but why.’
‘None of your business!’ hissed Turpin.
‘Be quiet, you,’ Tanya snapped. ‘And stay back. If I find you so much as looking at any of my buttons again, you’re in big trouble.’ The look Turpin gave her in return made her very glad that Turpin was unable to do magic, for if she could Tanya had no doubt that she would have been transformed into a slug or something equally disgusting.