by Gwyneth Rees
‘The Reverend’s sisters you say? His eldest sister . . . Susan . . . was my best friend at school. Haven’t seen her in years.’
‘Well, you can see her again tonight. And she’ll get to see you . . . making your entrance on my arm . . . if you’ll allow me to escort you there.’ Rosie’s dad was smiling broadly.
Flora laughed. ‘You are a charmer, aren’t you?’ She looked at Rosie. ‘I suppose you’d be disappointed if I didn’t come along and blow out my candles and all that rubbish, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Rosie nodded. ‘You’ve got to come, Miss McPhee! Please!’
‘All right, all right,’ Flora grunted. ‘Perhaps I will make an exception this time. I’ve still got the dress I bought for my last party so I suppose I may as well get some use out of it.’
As they left Flora’s cottage, Rosie whispered to her dad, ‘Cammie said the last party she went to was fifty years ago!’
Her dad laughed. ‘Well, if Cammie’s right . . . and wee men usually are, I expect . . . let’s just pray that it still fits her!’ He winked at her and Rosie couldn’t tell whether he was teasing or whether maybe . . . just maybe . . . he did believe her just a little bit about Cammie and the fairies, after all.
Cammie flew in through the window of Rosie’s bedroom just as she was zipping up her own dress for the party. It was pink with sparkly sequins down the back and she had shiny shoes to go with it.
Cammie landed with a small thud on her bed and sat there, resting his chin in his hands, looking worried. ‘Rosie, I think you should know, Snowdrop is very weak now.’ His voice trembled a little as he added, ‘She’s about to fade away – you can see it starting. She won’t be able to last the night.’
‘Yes, she will!’ Rosie said fiercely. She was feeling determined now. ‘As soon as the party begins I’m going to start them off remembering the old days and then one of them’s bound to remember Sa—’ She stopped abruptly, just before saying Sarah’s name. ‘Look, you’d better leave now. Just come and tell me as soon as Snowdrop starts to get better . . . or if she . . .’ She swallowed. She didn’t want to say the awful thing that was on her mind out loud.
She watched her friend fly off into the night. If Snowdrop was going to get well again, it was up to Rosie to make their plan work. The guests at Flora’s party had to remember Sarah McIver and they had to start talking about her. And the more they remembered and the more they talked, then the better chance Snowdrop had of recovering.
Rosie’s mum drove them to the hall, with Flora sitting in the front of the car huddled up in a big cream shawl that covered most of her dress. Rosie sat beside her father in the back seat, feeling nervous. What if nobody remembered Sarah? What would she do then?
Rosie and her mum entered the hall first and smiled at the little groups of old people who were standing around drinking wine and chatting. Everybody stopped talking as Flora walked in on the arm of Rosie’s dad. She had removed her shawl to reveal a stunning, dark blue, beaded dress. Rosie couldn’t believe that it was fifty years old!
Everyone called out, ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!’ and Reverend MacKay popped open a bottle of champagne and soon everyone was gathering around Flora asking her how she was and wishing her many happy returns and admiring her dress. To Rosie’s amazement, Flora took one look at all her old friends and neighbours and started to cry.
‘She’s crying because she’s happy, not because she’s sad,’ Mrs MacKay whispered in Rosie’s ear. ‘She never expected that we all still cared about her, that’s all.’
Rosie sort of understood what Mrs MacKay meant. She knew people cried sometimes for happy reasons as well as sad ones. Her dad had cried when she was born, her mother had said, just because he was so happy. But she couldn’t imagine what it was like to think nobody cared about you and then discover that they did.
Flora had spotted her old friend Susan and had gone over to speak to her. The two old ladies were standing looking at each other awkwardly, as if they didn’t know where to begin after all this time, and Rosie decided that it was time to move in.
‘Miss MacPhee, you know how I asked if you knew Sarah McIver . . . ?’ Rosie spoke so loudly that everyone nearby could hear her too. ‘Well, does anybody else here remember her, do you think? I think she might have been Annie’s sister.’
Susan turned to look at Rosie. ‘I remember Annie McIver well enough,’ she said. ‘She had a sister a couple of years older, I think, who died when we were children, but I don’t think she was called Sarah. What was her name, now . . . ?’ She beckoned to a white-haired old lady sitting sipping sherry in the corner. ‘Morag, what was the name of the older McIver girl? The one who died that winter when everyone went down with the pneumonia? It wasn’t Sarah, was it?’
The old lady called Morag stood up and came over to them, carefully holding her sherry glass in both hands so that it didn’t spill. ‘No. It wasn’t Sarah. We lived two houses along from the McIvers. I remember Annie used to talk about her. She was called . . . What was it? Susie . . . ? Katie . . . ?’
‘Sadie!’ a crackly voice called out, from a wheelchair parked beside the table.
‘Sadie!’ Morag exclaimed. ‘That was it!’
The old lady in the wheelchair was waving for Rosie to go over to her. ‘I’m Miss MacIntyre,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I used to be Flora’s teacher at the village school when she was your age.’
‘Flora’s teacher?’ Rosie asked, as she hastily tried to calculate ages in her head.
‘That’s right. I’ll be a hundred next year – the oldest person on the island!’
‘Wow!’ Rosie said. She had never met anyone as old as that before.
‘So you want to know about Sadie McIver, do you?’ Miss MacIntyre asked.
‘Not Sadie . . . Sarah . . .’ Rosie replied, frowning, but Miss MacIntyre just carried on smiling.
‘Sarah was her proper name, right enough, but everyone called her Sadie. I haven’t thought about that little girl in years. A bright little thing she was. One of my best pupils. I remember she was a little chatterbox. Always telling stories about the fairies and coming and showing me the presents they gave her. And such pretty blue eyes and golden hair. I remember once she found out it was my birthday and she brought me a bunch of snowdrops. I always remember how they lasted for weeks. Snowdrops don’t usually last long after you pick them. She told me they were sprinkled with—’
‘Fairy dust,’ Rosie interrupted breathlessly.
All the old people were gathering round now.
‘Aye, I remember those snowdrops,’ an elderly man joined in. ‘I remember I teased Sadie about them – about sucking up to the teacher! Gave me a right clout on the nose she did. Sadie McIver. I’d forgotten all about her. Sparky little thing, she was.’
Another old lady had joined them. ‘You’re not talking about wee Sadie who used to play with my brother, are you? She was a lively one! She’d completely slipped my mind but, do you know . . . I think I might have a photograph of her and our Cammie at home somewhere.’
‘Cammie?’ Rosie repeated, not sure that she had heard right.
‘Aye . . . Sadie and my wee brother, Cameron, were the same age and they used to get up to all sorts of mischief together. They both took ill with the pneumonia that winter and they died within a few days of each other. I remember my mother telling me our Cammie wouldn’t be lonely up in heaven because he’d have his wee friend, Sadie, there to play with him . . .’ She sighed, a little sadly.
Rosie’s head felt like it was spinning. ‘Excuse me, but is your name . . . ?’
‘Mrs Bell, I am now,’ the old lady said. ‘But Lorna MacPherson, I was, before I married.’
‘Then your brother was Cammie MacPherson!’ Rosie gasped.
‘That’s right, lass. Only seven when he died. He didn’t live long but I’ll never forget him. Full of energy he was. And always laughing.’
Rosie closed her eyes, feeling even more dizzy. Not only had she discovered Snowdrop’s special child
, she had found Cammie’s as well.
All around her the old people were talking about children they had known in the past when they were just children themselves. They were remembering their own brothers and sisters as well as the McIver sisters and other childhood friends who they hadn’t thought about in years. The fiddle music that Reverend MacKay had been playing seemed to be getting louder and the chattering voices seemed to be getting further away. All the bright colours of the streamers and balloons and people’s clothes seemed to be blurring into one another in front of Rosie’s eyes. And the next thing she knew, she was lying on the floor with her mother and father leaning over her and Mrs MacKay standing behind, suggesting that maybe she’d fainted because of all the excitement.
‘Or maybe she’s coming down with something,’ her mum said, anxiously. ‘I think I’ll take her home, James. You stay here and keep Miss MacPhee company.’
‘I don’t think Miss McPhee needs my company any more,’ her dad said, pointing to where Flora was deep in conversation with three old ladies and an old gentleman who was fussing around her, offering her champagne and trifle. ‘Why don’t we all go home.’
So Rosie’s parents asked Reverend MacKay if he would bring Flora home at the end of the evening, then they drove back to Thistle Cottage where Rosie’s mother helped her out of her clothes and into bed.
After her mother had closed the door, Rosie lay very still, waiting. Presently, there was movement behind the curtains.
Rosie sat up abruptly. ‘Snowdrop?’ She hardly dared to breathe.
It was Cammie. ‘You did it, Rosie,’ he grinned, flying over from the window and landing on her bed. ‘Snowdrop’s better. She’s getting stronger by the minute. She wants you to come and visit her in the fairy forest tomorrow but she’s got to ask Queen Mae first. I’m going back now because we’re having our own party to celebrate, but if Queen Mae says yes, I’ll be back tomorrow night to collect you.’ He flew back to the window ledge and turned round again. ‘By the way,’ he added, grinning even more, ‘I was wrong. You children are just as good friends to us now as you were in the old days!’
And before Rosie could reply, he was gone.
Before Rosie could see Snowdrop again, she had to say goodbye to her father. Rosie couldn’t help feeling sad as her dad hugged her before getting into his car the following day. His visit had passed so quickly. He had promised to come and see her again soon, but he couldn’t say exactly when and it was not knowing exactly when that made Rosie’s insides feel all churny. Her mum tried to cheer her up as they stood at the gate together but Rosie couldn’t stop a tear rolling down her cheek as she watched his car disappear from view.
When she went back to her bedroom she found Cammie waiting for her. As soon as he saw her he did an excited jig on her bed. ‘Queen Mae says I’m allowed to bring you right into the middle of the forest and show you where the fairies live!’ he announced. ‘She’s given me some special fairy dust to use. It’s in here.’ He tapped the leather pouch he had fastened to his belt.
‘Really?’ Now Rosie felt a bit better. ‘When can we go?’
‘Straight away. Queen Mae is expecting us.’
Rosie called out to her mother that she was going outside for a walk, then she hurried after Cammie who was already halfway up the drive.
Cammie led her across the moor towards the forest, pausing when they got to the tree stump with the flowers round the outside. ‘From now on,’ he said, making his voice sound very important, ‘you must only tread where I sprinkle the fairy dust.’
Rosie ended up following him along much the same route as she had taken before. This time, though, she took care only to stand on the path of golden dust that Cammie was laying for her. She felt a funny tingling sensation all over her body as she walked, but it wasn’t unpleasant and it didn’t feel as if anything very special was happening to her as she followed him.
‘You’d better close your eyes now,’ Cammie said, as the trees became denser.
‘But I’ll bump into the trees!’
‘No, you won’t. Just close your eyes and keep walking. The fairy dust will keep you on the right path.’
So Rosie did as Cammie told her, stepping forward warily at first, but then walking more confidently as she realized that the fairy dust path seemed to be leading her safely ahead in the same way a guide dog would lead a blind person. She couldn’t even feel herself brushing against the trees that she knew must be there beside her, and all the time Cammie was whistling a tune so that she knew he was still with her.
‘You can open your eyes now,’ Cammie eventually said.
She found that she was surrounded by giant tree trunks, much broader than any she had ever seen before. And when Cammie appeared through a space in the trees, he had grown in size so that he was now the same size as Rosie herself!
‘I don’t understand,’ Rosie gasped, as he walked towards her. ‘Where am I? And how did you make yourself that big?’
Cammie chuckled. ‘I’m the same size as I always was,’ he said. ‘You’re the one who’s changed. You’re the same size as a fairy now.’
‘What?’ Rosie couldn’t believe it.
‘Come on,’ Cammie grinned at her. ‘The others are waiting.’ He opened a door in a nearby tree and beckoned her to follow him inside.
Rosie stepped through the door and found herself in a hollowed-out tree trunk which went up and up so far that Rosie couldn’t see the top.
‘Just take hold of my hand and we’ll fly up together,’ Cammie said. Then, with Rosie’s hand in his, he took off, flapping his wings energetically to propel them both upwards.
Soon Rosie could see sunlight above her and she found herself emerging from the darkness into an open grassy area which turned out to be some sort of village green. All around the green were little wooden houses with flowers growing round the doors. Fairies the same size as Rosie fluttered about, watering their window boxes and chatting with each other.
‘Wow!’ Rosie gasped.
They were standing beside a village well in the middle of the lawn. It was made of pink and purple bricks and a shiny gold bucket dangled from a chain attached to its little painted roof.
‘We just flew out of there,’ Cammie explained. ‘The well is the only entrance to the village. It leads down into that tree trunk passage. At night the bucket glows in the dark and lights up the whole tunnel.’
Rosie stared in amazement at the well.
Some of the fairies had noticed her and had stopped what they were doing to smile and wave. ‘They all know how you saved Snowdrop,’ Cammie told her, as she waved back. ‘Come on! There’ll be time to meet them all later. Snowdrop is waiting for you at Queen Mae’s house.’
The fairy queen’s house was bigger than the others and covered in rambling purple and gold roses. The door was open and when Rosie stepped inside she found herself walking on a carpet of soft petals, which released a beautiful scent as her feet touched them.
In the middle of the room was a large bed made entirely out of red rose petals. Two white petal pillows were propped up at one end and a white sheet – made from lots of white petals sewn together – was draped over the end of the bed.
‘Rosie!’ a familiar voice called out.
Rosie turned to see Snowdrop skipping towards her, her skin glowing and her blue eyes sparkling as if she had never been ill. She was as tall as Rosie now and her white petal frock seemed to be made from the most enormous petals Rosie had ever seen. She had a patchwork petal shawl draped round her shoulders and her golden hair seemed to have sunlight running through it.
‘Snowdrop – you’re well again!’ Rosie gasped.
‘Thanks to you,’ Snowdrop beamed, coming over to give Rosie a hug.
It was a strange feeling to have Snowdrop there, the same size as herself. It was just as if Snowdrop were a real child – a friend the same age as herself – rather than a fairy.
‘There’s so much I want to show you!’ Snowdrop laughed, taking Rosie’
s hand and leading her outside into the fairy village again. ‘First the fairy nursery. Come on!’
Snowdrop led her to a long narrow building where little wicker cribs with daisy chains around the edges were lined up along each side. Fairies with white caps and white petal aprons hovered from one crib to the next, checking on their charges.
‘Do you want to see a brand new fairy baby?’ Snowdrop asked. ‘There’s one here that’s only just been delivered. It’s still a bundle of joy really, but it will grow into a baby soon.’
Rosie followed Snowdrop to the first crib and peered inside. She gasped. A cluster of golden sparks was whizzing round and round inside the crib. ‘That’s a fairy baby?’
‘Those sparks will come together to form a fairy soon. Come and see this one. It’s the same one you saw that dove bringing to us the other day.’
Rosie followed Snowdrop over to a crib in the centre of the row. Inside was a much bigger cluster of sparks which were stationary and which filled the entire crib. Rosie could see that the shape they formed was that of a little fairy lying on its side, its wings pointing backwards. ‘That’s amazing!’
‘In a few days she’ll be ready to leave the nursery,’ Snowdrop said. ‘There are wee men babies too. Look!’ Snowdrop showed her all the babies and introduced her to the fairy nannies.
‘The fairy nannies look so kind,’ Rosie said as they left the nursery together.
‘They are, but it must be very special having real parents of your own to love you,’ Snowdrop replied, sounding wistful.
‘I wish Mum and Dad could love each other again, not just me,’ Rosie sighed. ‘Then they’d still be together.’
‘Yes, but at least you’ve got a mum and a dad who love you,’ Snowdrop persisted. ‘Fairies don’t have any parents at all.’
Rosie looked at her friend. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have no parents. ‘I suppose I am lucky in some ways, aren’t I?’ she murmured, thinking about it.
