Martha Bloom and the Glass Compass

by Estelle Grace Tudor

  First published in the UK in 2021 by Inlustris Publishing, Wales

  Text © Estelle Grace Tudor, 2021

  Edited by Emma O’Connell ©

  Cover designed by 100 Covers © Map by Adam Charters ©

  'Bracken' Artwork by Adam Tudor ©

  Hardback cover character artwork by Red Little Berry ©

  Interior formatting and design by Evenstar Books ©

  Chapter header design by Silver Wheel Press ©

  Inlustris Publishing, 2021

  The right of Estelle Grace Tudor to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  E-book ISBN 978 1 8380292 7 2

  To my own perfectly perfect family...

  Dean, Adam, Chloe,

  Nathan & Jake.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Glossary of Names

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Spring Blooms

  The spring breeze rippled through the meadow as thirteen-year-old Martha Bloom and her twin sister Beatrice picked wildflowers. Laughingly, they placed them behind their ears and wove them into crowns.

  “This one would suit Princess Evony,” Beatrice mused, inspecting the rainbow-coloured crown she had made from her position lying on her back.

  “I wonder what’s happening in Fairy Land right now?” Martha said, frowning at her own crown critically, wanting it to look exactly right.

  “Me too,” Beatrice agreed, then gave her sister a sideways look as Martha continued to tweak the flowers. “It’s fine, Matty – not everything has to be perfect!”

  Martha gave a self-deprecating smile and placed the crown down beside her before lying back on the springy ground beside Beatrice, enjoying the April sunshine on her face.

  “Matty! Bea!” a happy voice shouted, full of excitement.

  Martha and Beatrice sat up to see their younger cousin Octavia bounding through the daisies towards them, followed by her twin brother Otto, their copper curls shining in the sunlight. An otter slid through the grass at Otto’s feet, and a tiny mouse poked its head out of Octavia’s pocket.

  A woof warned Martha and Beatrice of an incoming torpedo of fur, and they hastily got to their feet to avoid being trampled on by Bronwen, their cousins’ Old English Sheepdog. She jumped up at them lovingly, plastering them with slobbery kisses.

  “Down!” Martha laughed, wiping the fur from her cotton summer dress.

  Octavia waved a tiny scroll in front of the girls’ faces. “Look what just came!” she announced.

  Martha looked at the little scroll, recognising the parchment immediately. “Tavi, you haven’t been sitting outside of the fairy door on such a beautiful day, have you?”

  “Well, it was an accident—” Octavia began, breaking off to glare at Otto, who was snorting with laughter behind her. “Felicity thought she had left Bronwen’s ball up there, so I offered to go and get it.”

  “She practically begged to go and fetch it,” a new voice added as Felicity, Octavia and Otto’s older sister, joined the group. She threw her black braid over her shoulder as she bent to give Bronwen a hearty rub.

  Octavia frowned as the others laughed. “Well, it’s a good job I did, or I never would have seen this!” she said triumphantly, holding aloft the tiny scroll. The little mouse scampered out of Octavia’s pocket to sit sentry on her shoulder, obviously eager to see what was in the note.

  “Ferren is certainly excited.” Beatrice laughed, nodding at the little mouse, and then added, “And Sage too!” as the otter pawed at her leg.

  “Well, of course, she told me she is longing to go back – we haven’t been since Christmas. Who knows what evil Nesrin is getting up to!” Octavia said.

  Everyone fell silent. Martha thought back to Christmas, when they had gone through the fairy door into Fairy Land to attend Princess Evony’s wedding to Soren Brightwing of the fairy village, Bloomsville. Queen Rhosyn’s evil sister Nesrin had been working with Riad, a dark fairy, to try once again to take over Fairy Land. But Beatrice’s new-found control of her magic and the help of some magical unicorns had seen them off for the time being.

  With a shudder, Martha was brought back to the present as Octavia unrolled the little scroll and read aloud, “Queen Rhosyn and King Llyffant request the pleasure of your company to the grand opening of the new Fairy and Companion School in Bloomsville.”

  Eyes shining, Octavia looked around at her siblings and cousins. “Oh, wow! Grandmother told me that she and Great-Aunt Clara had a lovely visit around the old school last time we were there, and that they were making a new school. Ferren, you can visit your old school friends!” She clapped her hands in excitement, almost dislodging Ferren, who squeaked indignantly. Martha laughed and caught up the little mouse, placing her safely in Octavia’s pocket.

  “I hope the adults will let us go – you know how much they worry,” Felicity said, bringing the others back to reality.

  “I’m sure it will be all right. They’ve come around to the fact that we are bound to Fairy Land, and that it’s in everyone’s interest for us to visit there.” Beatrice spoke up softly, pushing her blonde hair from her eyes; Martha gave her sister a smile, thinking how much she had grown in confidence.

  “I’m sure nothing bad will happen visiting a school full of little creatures who are preparing to be good companions to the next Key Keeper.” Otto shrugged, his freckled nose crinkling as he thought out loud.

  “And speaking of Key Keeper – it’s my turn to open the door this time,” Octavia told her brother, who rolled his eyes. He fished out a vine necklace from beneath his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. The miniscule golden key glinted in the sunshine as Otto passed the necklace over to Octavia.

  Martha turned at the sound of a car chugging up the road that led to Castle Bloom, their family’s ancestral castle.

  “Come on – that must be Great-Aunt Clara,” she said to the others.

  Octavia and Otto raced on ahead with Sage and Bronwen at their heels. Martha, Felicity and Beatrice linked arms and walked more sedately across the meadow towards the large, old grey castle. It stood against a backdrop of sky with fluffy clouds scudding across it, chased by the fresh breeze. Around the back, waves thundered against the cliff face which had supported the castle for centuries.

  The girls left the meadow and crossed the road leading into the Castle Courtyard, where a dilapidated burgundy car was parked haphazardly in the centre. A small round figure with grey frizzy hair was pulling itself from its depths, huffing with the exertion.

  “Great-Aunt
Clara! Let us help.” Octavia and Otto rushed forwards, pulling her from the car.

  Great-Aunt Clara leaned heavily on her gnarled walking stick and gave a hearty chuckle, beaming around at the five children and assortment of creatures. “Well, now, I’m pleased to see you and no mistake!”

  Martha smiled at the older lady and bent to take her carpet bag. Beatrice grabbed the cage containing a bright-eyed red squirrel.

  “Hi, Rowan,” she said to the little creature, who winked back.

  “Oh, you can let him out now. That old fusspot down at the station had me cage him on the train, but Rowan is more of a gentleman than he is, I bet.” Great-Aunt Clara grinned at Octavia, who laughed appreciatively back. They shared the same cheeky exuberance that all the Key Keepers had.

  Fawcett, the Blooms’ handyman, came around from the back of the car with Great-Aunt Clara’s suitcase.

  “There you are, children. Mrs Fawcett was baking some jam tarts when I left to get your great-aunt; they should be lovely and warm from the oven by now,” he told them with a wink.

  Rowan’s ears perked up and, free from his cage, he leapt up onto Great-Aunt Clara’s shoulder to take his usual perch.

  “Did you hear that, Rowan? Jam tarts,” Great-Aunt Clara said, rubbing her hands together. “Lead on, Otto!”

  Otto gave a mock salute and marched across the courtyard, Sage running on ahead. Octavia chattered to Great-Aunt Clara, telling her about the note.

  “You two go on,” Martha told Beatrice and Felicity. “I’ll help Fawcett with the bags.”

  Fawcett gave Martha a smile. “I’m pleased to see you don’t mind a bit of hard work now, missy; all those trips to that ‘other place’ are certainly improving you all.”

  Martha paused in collecting a hat box from the boot and thought about his words. Fawcett was right. She admitted to herself that she had been a bit prissy and stuck up in the past, but Fairy Land had changed her – well, all of them – for the better.

  “Oh, I hope you don’t think I’m speaking out of turn,” Fawcett said as they entered the entrance hall together.

  “No, of course not,” Martha replied, placing the hat box at the foot of the grand stairs, and giving the old man an affectionate pat on the arm.

  “You’d better get on; your grandmother’s probably got your afternoon tea waiting.”

  Martha nodded and followed the sound of voices into the drawing room. She stopped to give her mother a hug on the way past and took a seat on the sofa next to Beatrice, who was giggling at the little creatures, already covered in sticky jam. Pan, Aunt Genevieve’s sparrow companion, took full advantage of his wings and nipped a piece of tart from Sage’s paw before swooping back up to the mantlepiece.

  “So, I hear you’ve all been invited to see the new school,” Grandmother said, some of her old sternness creeping into her voice. She poured the tea into dainty china cups and began handing them around.

  Octavia shuffled in her chair, an old habit which resurfaced whenever she was nervous or excited. “We can go, can’t we?” she pleaded.

  The adults all looked at one another. Martha and Beatrice’s mother smiled and placed a reassuring hand on her husband’s arm. “Yes, of course – we stand by what we said last time, and we know Queen Rhosyn would never let any real harm befall you,” she said.

  “Well, I for one will give this one a miss; my poor nerves could not handle all the excitement,” Grandmother stated, patting her silver-grey hair.

  Great-Aunt Clara’s laughter boomed out. “I’m with you there, Evy – it was lovely to go back, but it is much too exhausting. I prefer the creature comforts of home,” she said, wiping crumbs from her brightly patterned flowered blouse. Rowan gave a disappointed droop at the thought of not returning to Fairy Land, but perked up again when he was offered another jam tart.

  “Well, you children being invited back has worked out quite well,” Martha and Beatrice’s Aunt Genevieve stated, ruffling Otto’s hair, which exactly matched her own. “There is a Botanists’ Conference in Hereford; we weren’t going to go to it, as we wanted to spend as much of the holidays with you all as possible, but if you will all be venturing off to Fairy Land then maybe we could slip away for a few days and go?” she finished, arching her eyebrows at her sister, husband, and brother-in-law.

  “Sounds good to me.” Martha’s mother nodded. The adults broke into a conversation concerning plants with long-winded Latin names that had Octavia’s eyes glazing over.

  Felicity laughed at her sister’s expression and said, “May we be excused, please, Grandmother?”

  Grandmother nodded, and the children placed their cups onto the coffee table with clinks and clatters that made her wince slightly. They all headed out, snagging a few more jam tarts on the way. They made their way up the stairs and into their ‘secret hideout’ room, Bronwen dancing at their heels.

  There, they settled down onto the mountain of cushions.

  Wiping the jam from his mouth with the back of his hand and spraying a few remaining crumbs, Otto mumbled, “When do we leave, Tavi?”

  “Otto!” Felicity admonished, shaking the crumbs from her braid where they had landed. Bronwen took the opportunity to hoover them up.

  Octavia giggled and unrolled the scroll again. “In the morning. Feargal and Aurus will be waiting to escort us through Rhosyn’s Woods.”

  Ferren scampered over Octavia’s arm and ended up sitting on her wrist, where she peered at the little note, her whiskers twitching. She turned to look at Octavia and squeaked insistently.

  “What did she say?” Martha asked Octavia, thinking that it would be great to be back in Fairy Land where they could all understand Ferren’s and Sage’s squeaks.

  “She’s worried about Nesrin,” Octavia said, her violet-blue eyes wide.

  “I have my wand, and I’m not afraid of Nesrin any longer,” Beatrice piped up, reassuring the little mouse.

  “But you haven’t used it since the last time we were there,” Martha said, biting her lip.

  “It doesn’t go away,” Beatrice said with a small smile for her sister, “and anyway, Doran has promised me more magic lessons. You remember what his note said at Christmas. I was hoping we could go through the Fairy Door at half term, but Mum and Dad whisked us off to Africa instead,” she reminded Martha.

  “You’d think, now that our parents no longer have to search for flowers for Otto’s cure, they would be content staying home,” Felicity said with a shake of her head.

  “It’s what they all love to do; I suppose it’s better than being cooped up in their laboratory all the time,” Martha said, thinking with affection of her parents, aunt and uncle and their love of plants and flowers.

  “Well, still, it’s their love of the plant world that helped find the cure for Otto, and now we’re all together again,” Octavia said, grinning at Otto, who was playing with Sage. The group fell silent as they watched the otter try to catch the piece of string Otto was trailing across the floor.

  A knock at the door had the children turning expectantly. Great-Aunt Clara popped her head around the corner; Rowan sat on her shoulder, nibbling the remnants of another jam tart.

  “Ooh, those steps are big,” she huffed, “I’d forgotten. I’m so used to my little houseboat, I forget how big this place is.”

  The children giggled appreciatively and waited while she got her breath back.

  “Martha, I have something for you,” Great-Aunt Clara finally said. “Fawcett put my things in my old room – it’s in my bag.”

  Martha looked at the others and, with a shrug, got up to follow her great-aunt from the room.

  In Great-Aunt Clara’s room, she took a seat on an old armchair and waited whilst Great-Aunt Clara pulled out an assortment of random things, including a tea kettle, a flask, and a bag of peanuts.

  “A-ha!” she finally said, pulling out a velvet-bound sketchbook, the red cloth so faded it looked dusky pink. “This was your Great-Grandfather Etienne’s,” Great-Aunt Clara said, ha
nding the book over. “Your grandmother has told me numerous times how talented you are at drawing, so I thought you might like to have this.”

  Martha took the old book and ran her fingers across the soft cloth before flipping it open. She smiled as the first page revealed a much younger Great-Aunt Clara standing proudly in front of Castle Bloom with copper curls flowing and Rowan on her shoulder, perched as he was right at this moment.

  “It’s filled with all sorts of magical creatures from Fairy Land. Of course, your Great-Grandfather didn’t know they were real.” Great-Aunt Clara sat on the bed and looked keenly at Martha. “Back then, the men in our family didn’t know about the Fairy Door and how we Bloom girls kept it safe. Rowan used to tell me all about the creatures at the fairy school. I would make up little stories about them, and my father would draw the characters for me.”

  Martha carried on flicking through the book as she listened, passing pages filled with rabbits, foxes, birds, butterflies, and other woodland creatures.

  “Where did your father think Rowan came from?” Martha asked, interested in how the Bloom women had kept the secret for so long.

  “Oh, I was always scampering about outside, so I just told my father I had found him orphaned and that I was going to nurse him back to health. My father became quite fond of Rowan, didn’t he, old friend?” she added sadly, looking down at the squirrel, who had placed a tiny paw on her cheek. Giving herself a shake, she carried on. “In reality, I received Rowan at my Key Keeper ceremony on my tenth birthday. My mother’s companion collected Rowan from outside the fairy door, and he’s been by my side ever since.”

  Martha looked at the little squirrel. “I can’t wait to meet the other creatures,” she said. “Thank you for the book, Great-Aunt Clara – I will treasure it.” She got up and pressed a kiss to her great-aunt’s cheek.

  “You’re welcome. Now, off you go. I’m going to have a nap before dinner.” Great Aunt-Clara smiled, waving her off.