He considered the question for a moment before he finally said, “Phoebe, are you always right about everything?”
“No. If I’m your sister, I’m usually wrong about everything.”
“Good thing you’re not my sister.”
I studied the letter. “The first and last ones are easy. It’s the ones in between that are going to be hard to figure out.”
Ned tapped the letter with his finger. “But if Sheila figured it out, so can we.”
“Thanks again for doing this with me,” I said. “It’s much more fun than doing it by myself.”
“Not a problem. I didn’t have anything planned anyhow. Chester’s away on holiday.”
Chester is Ned’s best friend. I’ve met him a couple of times. He’s pretty shy. Nothing like Ned, basically.
“What do you guys like to do for fun?” I asked.
“Besides camp and stuff like that?”
“Yeah, besides that.”
“You’ll laugh.”
“I promise I won’t.”
“You will.”
“Ned. We’ve been friends for a long time. I would never be mean to you. Or at least, not on purpose, anyway.”
He sighed and looked out the window for a moment. Then he turned to me and said, “Fine. We like to bake. Crumbles and pies. That kind of thing.”
I smiled. “I love that.”
“You’re teasing.”
“No. I’m not. I really think it’s great. I like to cook, too, remember?”
“But you cook real food. Meals and stuff. We don’t do any of that. Just desserts for us.”
“Dessert is real food. What’s the best thing you two have made?”
“We made a delicious plum crumble a few months ago. Ate the whole thing, the two of us. Mum asked me what had happened to it, and when I told her we ate it all, she nearly fell over.”
“Didn’t you feel sick after eating it all?”
He grinned. “No. It was so delicious, Pheebs. Does that sound like I’m bragging?”
“Not to me, it doesn’t. But now I’m hungry for some crumble.”
“Me too,” he replied. “Will we have time to get something to eat while we’re in the city?”
“Does Peter Pan fly?”
“Is that a yes?”
“That’s a yes,” I said.
“Good. This day just keeps getting better and better.”
I could only hope that would continue.
The Peter Pan statue is located in Kensington Gardens, next to Hyde Park. When we got off the Tube at Lancaster Gate, we made our way in the right direction.
“It’s past the Italian Gardens,” Ned said as we walked.
“I know,” I replied. “Past the drinking fountain with the two bears hugging each other at the top of it.”
“Grandpa told me that fountain was once used by cattle and horses. Right as I was about to stick my face in there.” He shuddered. “I turned around and yelled, ‘And you’re letting me drink from it? Ew!’ He thought that was so funny.”
“At least he didn’t tell you after you’d gotten a drink.”
“You’re right. That would have been far worse.”
We walked past Long Water, a lake that runs through the middle of the gardens. Ducks paddled around in the water and birds perched on the wooden posts. I thought of Sheila, coming here all of those years ago, hoping to create a bit of magic that would bring her sister home. Did she come alone, I wondered, or did she ask a friend to come along with her, like I did? Maybe Mary Jane went with her to keep her company. I found myself hoping she did. Thinking of her wandering around London all by her lonesome made me a little sad for some reason.
Just then, my phone rang. I scrambled to pull it out of the side pocket of my bag and looked at the number. “My sister,” I explained to Ned before answering.
“Hello?” I said.
“Phoebe?”
“That’s me.”
“Do you have Nora and Justin’s address?”
“Yes. I have it. But so do you, right?”
She sniffled. “I can’t find it. I think the piece of paper with his information might have accidentally been thrown out. I’m not sure, but I’ve looked everywhere, and it’s just … gone.”
“Hm. Sorry.”
“I’m not calling for your sympathy. I need their address. I want to get this package mailed off to him today.”
Ned stopped walking and looked at me, probably concerned since I had apologized. Like maybe something terrible happened. But no, nothing terrible had happened at all, it was just my sister, being her usual demanding self.
I rolled my eyes. “Maybe you should text Justin and ask him for it.”
“I can’t,” she whined. “I want it to be a surprise.”
“I don’t have it with me, Alice. It’s in my room somewhere. I’ll look for it when I get home.”
“Phoebe,” she cried. “I don’t want to get it when you get home. I want it now.”
I stared out at the water, wondering why every little thing between us had to turn into a battle. “But I’m not home right now, am I? I’m in London, with Ned. And I don’t want you tearing my room apart. So you’ll just have to wait. See you later today. Bye.”
“No, don’t—”
I didn’t want to wait to see what she was going to say. Because I could pretty much guess what it would be. She’d tell me I was being ridiculous and that all I needed to do was to tell her where the address was so she could get it. Except I didn’t want her poking her nose around in my room and my stuff.
“Everything all right?” Ned asked.
I stuffed my phone back in my bag and started walking again. “I told you she’s being impossible these days. The only time she’ll voluntarily talk to me is when she wants something. The rest of the time, I’m basically invisible.”
“What do you mean by that?” Ned asked as he walked beside me. “Invisible?”
Ned was an only child. It made sense that he’d probably never felt that way.
“I’m not sure I can explain it very well, but I’ll try. You know how the earth revolves around the sun? Well, in our house, lately everything revolves around Alice. I feel like a dinky little star in the night sky that no one notices. And to be honest, sometimes I find myself wondering if I even have a place in the galaxy at all.”
I looked over at Ned and he had a scowl on his face. “Phoebe, that is a terribly sad thing to say. Of course you have a place in the galaxy. Everyone has a place in the galaxy. You need to claim your place and be the shining star you are, no matter what anyone else is doing.”
I closed one eye and looked at Ned with suspicion. “Are you secretly a poet or something?”
He chuckled. “I wish. But poet or not, I mean it.”
“The problem is, I can never outshine the sun,” I said.
“Maybe not,” he replied, “but who cares? Not me. And I bet your parents are glad they don’t have two suns. That would be really hot. And annoying. Can you imagine how much they’d sweat? It’d get quite stinky in your house, Pheebs.”
It made me laugh.
“They all love you, you know,” he said. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it all the time.”
“I know,” I said. “Still, it would be nice if my sister and I could at least get along. Whether we’re a star and a sun or a sister and a sister. That’s why this spell has to work.”
When we reached the statue, a woman was taking photos of two little girls standing on either side of it. One of the girls was tall and skinny, about seven or eight, with her blonde hair brushed back into a ponytail. The other one was short and stocky, age four or five, with curly brown hair and a smile so bright, I wanted to scoop her up and give her a squeeze.
“Splendid,” the woman said. “Let’s do one more. How about you look up at Peter and give him a little wave?”
The girls did as she said and when the woman was finished taking the picture, she turned and looked at us. “Thank you for
your patience. It’s all yours. If you wanted a photo, I mean.”
“Are they your daughters?” I asked.
“They are indeed,” she said as she watched the girls chase each other around the statue, their giggles sweeter than a pear drop.
It made my heart happy and sad all at the same time. Sad because that used to be my sister and me. Joined at the hip—that’s what my father used to say about us. Where one girl was, the other one wanted to be. Always.
“Do they get along like that all of the time?” I asked.
The woman laughed as she tucked her phone into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Oh, heavens no. Not at all. The youngest can be quite the pill at times, and the older one loses her temper easily. It gets … interesting. But that’s what sisters do, I suppose, and so I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“You wouldn’t?” I asked just as the younger one pulled the older girl’s ponytail, causing her to cry out in pain. The older one spun around and grabbed her sister’s arm and yanked on it. The little one stood there for a brief second before she squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her fists, and burst into tears.
“Oh dear,” their mum said, rushing over. “Trixie, you can’t pull your sister’s hair like that. You know it’s not nice, and it never ends well.”
The woman scooped Trixie up into her arms. The girl wrapped her small hands around her mother’s neck and buried her face into her shoulder.
“Come along,” she said as she held her hand out so the older girl could grab on to it. “Let’s find a spot to sit in the gardens to enjoy our biscuits. Leave these two to enjoy Peter Pan in peace and quiet.”
“Thank you!” Ned called out.
“You’re welcome,” the oldest girl called back, waving at us with her free hand.
“You better hurry,” Ned told me. “Before some other people come.”
I handed him my bag. “Do you think I should say anything?”
He gave me a quizzical look. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. It seems a bit odd to just start going in circles.”
Ned chuckled. “It’s a magic spell, Pheebs. It is odd.”
I turned around and looked behind me. A family of five was fast approaching. “Okay,” I said. “Here I go.”
I pretended to admire the statue in a big way as I walked around it once, twice, and finally three times. When I finished, I stepped back over to where Ned stood.
“I guess that’s it,” I told him. I nodded my head toward the family that now stood by the statue. “I think I’ll ask them if they have any idea about the next place on the list. They seem nice enough, don’t you think?”
“Great idea,” he said.
It seemed to me this was another instance when the sweet angel face my sister had taught me to use when bartering might come in handy. So I put on my best friendly face and sweet innocent smile as I approached them before I said, “Excuse me?”
They turned. “Yes?” said the man.
“I was wondering, do you know London very well?” I asked.
“I’d say we do,” the woman replied. “Why? Can we help you with something?”
I didn’t want to show them the letter, because then I’d have to explain everything to them. So I simply asked, “Do you know of a place where opera singers once performed, before a fire changed everything?”
The man looked at his wife. “What’s the music hall called between Wapping and Whitechapel? Near the Tower of London?”
“Wilton’s,” the woman replied as she watched her children, who had begun to play an imaginary game of Peter Pan. A boy pretending to be Peter flapped his arms and then stopped as the other two children, a girl and an older boy, came over to him.
“I’ll be Tinkerbell,” the little girl said.
“And I’ll be Captain Hook,” the boy said. “Which means I catch Tinkerbell and hide her from you.” He grabbed his little sister. “Ahoy, matey, come and get her if ye dare.”
“So you think that’s the one, then?” I asked. “Opera singers definitely performed at Wilton’s?”
“I’m not exactly sure of the history, to be honest,” the woman said, “but it’s been around a long, long time, and if I remember correctly, it’s one of the few still standing that survived fire and flooding. Not to mention the Blitz.”
The man nodded. “I’m almost positive it’s the one you’re looking for. Do you know how to get there from here?”
“I don’t think we do, no.”
The woman stepped away to keep the game of pretend from getting too rough while the man gave me directions. I scribbled them down using a pen and a small notebook from my bag.
“Thank you very much,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” he replied.
And with that, the first item in the spell was done. I tried to see if I felt magical at all, but the only thing I felt was chilly. The sun still hadn’t come out yet.
You can’t rush magic, I guess.
I love England in the spring, with its pink camellias and yellow daffodils. And as I looked around while we strolled back toward the Tube station, I remembered one spring a number of years back when my family went to Green Park for a picnic on a pretty, sunny day. Green Park is one of the most famous parks for daffodils, and we managed to go on a day when everything was in full bloom. It was gorgeous. Alice had said, “Let’s pretend we’re fairies and we live here surrounded by daffodils.”
“What do fairies eat?” I asked.
“I think they must eat anything that’s sweet,” Alice replied. “Maybe they make little tiny cakes out of dandelions and daisies.”
“Oooh, I want a dandelion cake!” I exclaimed. “With lemon frosting.”
And so, after we ate the lunch Mum had packed in a picnic basket, we made pretend dandelion cakes and played silly fairy games. Except at the time, they weren’t silly at all, they were wonderful.
Sometimes I wonder if Alice ever remembers those times when we played and laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. Maybe I should leave one of the family photo albums on her pillow, so she might flip through and be reminded that she didn’t always find me as wonderful as a nest of wasps.
“Ned?”
“Yes?”
“Do you ever wish you had a brother or a sister?”
“All the time,” he replied, looking across Long Water. “But Mum and Dad said I was enough for them.”
“That makes it sound like you were quite a handful when you were a wee little lad.”
He smiled. “I believe I was. According to them, from the moment I woke up to the time I went to bed, I wanted to go, go, and go some more. You know my mother. She enjoys knitting. Reading. Quiet things. And I was not a very quiet little boy.”
“Your grandparents own a bookshop,” I said as stopped to look out at the water one last time before we left the gardens. A mother with a brood of ducklings was swimming toward the shore. “I bet you had to learn to be quiet, whether you wanted to be or not.”
“You should hear my grandpa read out loud. He does the best voices. I was always entertained when I went there.”
“And now when you visit, they put you to work.”
“I like it, though. I like seeing what new books are coming in for the kid’s section, especially. If there’s something I want, they usually let me have it.”
“I love that you have a library in your house. All those books shelved on the pretty bookshelves. It’s really wonderful.” Just then, an idea occurred to me. “Hey, maybe you should get your mother a nice, new book. If she likes to knit, you could get her a fun knitting book and some new yarn.”
Ned made a funny face. “Phoebe, I wouldn’t know the first thing about choosing yarn.”
“Just get her favorite color or something. It can’t be that hard.”
He turned and started walking again. “You wouldn’t think so, but I’ve been to the yarn shop and there are a gazillion kinds of yarn.”
“A gazillion?” I asked with a smile. “I
think you might be exaggerating.”
“Maybe so. Anyway, she buys yarn all the time. I want to get her something unique. Something she’d never buy for herself, you know?”
“Ned, you do realize whatever you end up with, she’s going to love it because you gave it to her.”
“She wouldn’t like a box of dirty socks.”
“Well, no one would like that.”
“Or, if I’m being completely honest, a pogo stick.”
“Ha! I knew it! But I think you might be obsessed with pogo sticks.”
“I’ll admit it. I want one. They look like fun.”
“Hey, what about a toy from the antique shop?” I asked. “Maybe you could find something from when she was a child.”
“My mum isn’t that old, Pheebs. Pretty sure the stuff in your store is from when my grandparents were young. Or even before that.”
“I’m simply trying to help,” I said.
“I know. I’m sure you’ll think of something good. Eventually.”
And here I thought completing all of the things in the letter was going to be the hard part.
London is quite large. Much bigger than Paris, that’s for sure. It seems people who don’t know London very well are often surprised by this fact. Perhaps the idea of a palace and a royal family makes it seem like the setting for a cozy fairy tale. But cozy is not the word I would use to describe London. More like sprawling.
Although, when William and Kate got married, it did seem cozy for a moment. It was a day I’ll never forget. Dad and Mum decided we shouldn’t miss being a part of this important piece of history, so we woke up at five in the morning in order to get a good spot in Parliament Square. We had a great view of the wedding party coming down the street in their horse-drawn carriages toward Westminster Abbey. Most of the onlookers wore red, white, and blue and waved flags in the air, proud to be British on the special day. You should have heard Alice waffle on after William and Kate appeared on the balcony and carried out the traditional kiss. The most romantic thing she’d ever seen, she’d said. “So lovely, so heartfelt, so …”
I couldn’t let her continue. “Alice, it lasted about two seconds. Maybe less. It was a show for the crowd, that’s all.”