Dedication
for Laura & Louisa
Map
Contents
Dedication
Map
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Fairy Secrets
Squeak’s Words
How to Build a Fairy House
The Song of Sheepskerry Island
Excerpt from Golden at the Fancy-Dress Party
About the Author and Illustrator
Back Ad
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
one
All the fairies in the wide world love summer—except the Fairy Bell sisters and their friends on Sheepskerry Island. Sheepskerry is a fairies’ paradise in fall and winter and spring, and summer should be the best season of all. And for a while, it is.
In June, fairies start doing the things they’ve been meaning to do all the rest of the year: The Stitch sisters sew costumes for dress-up games; the Cobwebs crochet delicate fairy shawls; the Flower sisters take out their watercolors and paint under the pale-blue sky.
In July it’s time to throw off fairy wings and jump in Lupine Pond and splash in the cool water. Then there are berries for the picking, all over the island—pinkberries first, and most delicate; then raspberries, blueberries, mulberries, boysenberries, and finally blackberries when the days are hottest. The Bakewell sisters make pies and muffins with the freshest of the pick, and the older Jellicoe sisters swiftly put up jams and jellies for the winter months if the berry bushes are especially bountiful.
When at the end of the day the fireflies light up and the summer sun goes down, the fairies are ready to lay their heads on thistledown pillows and dream fairy dreams. But first they watch the sunset on the West Shore, which every night paints the sky lavender, purple, gold, and scarlet, and needs no fairy magic to be beautiful.
Summer on Sheepskerry Island would be perfect, except for the month of August. In August, the Summer People come.
Summer People are just that. They’re people. Human beings. Mothers and fathers. Girls and boys. Most of them mean well, of course, but still they are immense, bumbling creatures who trample fairy gardens and unleash barking dogs and circle the island in stinky boats and altogether turn a fairy paradise into a dreadful place. So fairies stay in their houses under the Cathedral Pines and only come out safely at night. The Fairy Bell sisters love the summer weather and the fruits and flowers of the garden. They love the long days and the cool nights. But they don’t love hiding from the Summer People. Yet hide they must.
two
Don’t tell me you are one of the very few children who have not met the Fairy Bell sisters! You are in for a treat, for you can meet them now. Allow me to introduce you to:
Clara Bell
Rosy Bell
Golden Bell
Sylva Bell
and baby Squeak
(They are Tinker Bell’s little sisters, by the way.)
If you are anything like me, you’d never suspect that one of the Fairy Bell sisters would end up keeping a secret from her sisters—a very big secret indeed. But just last summer, Rosy Bell did something that she hoped her sisters would never find out. It was an act of kindness, of course, an act of very great and courageous kindness, but it led Rosy into trouble and the fairies of Sheepskerry Island into danger—perhaps the gravest danger those fairies had ever known.
I’d better get this said right now: If your idea of a good book is one where everyone does everything right all the time, then you’re not going to enjoy this one very much.
If, though, you can bear to read about Rosy’s kindness to a little sick girl, and how it made her sisters ashamed of her—even though they knew Rosy had done the right thing—then take a deep breath and turn the page.
three
You turned the page!
What a good choice you’ve made!
four
“It’s the Summer People!”
Rosy heard Sylva Bell’s cry, and her heart sank. She tried not to think bad thoughts about anyone in the world, but even Rosy could not think too kindly about the Summer People.
“Now we’ll have to stay in the house all day, as they unpack and unload.” Goldie sighed deeply. “What a bore.”
“We could play Go Fish in the Fairy Pond,” said Rosy, “just to pass the time.” Go Fish in the Fairy Pond is very much like our card game called Go Fish, but there are no kings or jacks in the deck, and the jokers are trolls. Rosy started to deal.
Last year’s crop of Summer People had not discovered the fairies’ lovely houses, for their eyes did not know how to see magic, and their ears could not hear the music of fairy voices, and that was a blessing.
“How long has our house stood here, Clara?” Sylva asked. “Goldie, do you have any . . . sevens?”
“A very long time, Sylva, longer than anyone can remember. Houses are terribly hard to build, as young fairy magic does not extend to architecture.”
“Architecture?” asked Sylva.
“House building,” said Goldie. “No sevens. Go fish in the fairy pond.”
“In fact,” Clara continued, “a long time ago, before any of us popped into the world, the fairies of Sheepskerry Island lived in abandoned birds’ nests.”
“Birds’ nests!” said Sylva.
“I suppose it might not have been too bad,” said Rosy.
“I could not possibly have lived in a bird’s nest,” said Goldie. “Far too scratchy for my delicate skin.”
“In those days, Summer People were quite lovely,” Clara went on. “There were only a few of them, and they lived very simply. They built the six cottages that are on Sheepskerry now: Newcastle, Arrowhead, Clearwater, Windy Corner, Sea Glass, and White Rose Cottage.”
“White Rose Cottage is my favorite,” said Rosy with a sigh.
“Of course, the cottages have gotten much bigger and fancier now—” said Clara.
“Except for White Rose—” said Rosy.
“Because the Summer People have changed. The grown-ups, at least.”
“Clara, do you have any queens?” asked Goldie. She looked out the window of the great room. “Do you suppose Queen Mab is enjoying her holiday?”
“I’m sure she is,” said Clara. “No queens.”
“It is funny not to have her here,” said Sylva, touching the necklace Queen Mab had given her after the Fairy Ball not long ago. “Maybe I could fly over to Heart Island sometime and just drop in.”
“I don’t think so,” said Goldie, as she rearranged her cards.
“Please, can we get back to the story now?” asked Rosy.
Clara started again. “Back in those days,” she said, “children looked for fairies every morning when the dew was still fresh on the spiders’ webs. Summer Children and fairies played together. Of course, the fairies did not really show themselves—or not too much, anyway—but they left little gifts for the Summer Children, and the Summer Children left gifts for them.”
Rosy looked over at the fireplace mantel in their great room. There was a tiny seashell, painted bright pink.
“That was a gift from a long-ago Summer Child,” said Rosy. “She gave it to Tinker Bell, or at least that’s how the story goes.” No one was quite sure whether that was true, but they liked to believe it was.
“The
Summer Children’s greatest gift was the Fairy Village in Cathedral Pines,” said Clara.
“Pah-pah!” said Squeak.
“Yes, Squeakie. It is rather amazing. Summer Children built our fairy houses, one for every family of fairy sisters who live on Sheepskerry. And it’s those houses we live in to this very day.”
The sisters paused to think about those long-ago days. Their thoughts were interrupted by a clattering din coming from the dock, where the Summer People were arriving on the ferry. Goldie peered out the window. “Now the Summer People are horrible,” she said. “They’re especially horrible on Moving-In Day. We’ll be trapped in this hot house till nightfall because of them.”
“I’m sure they don’t mean to be so thoughtless,” said Rosy.
“I’m sure they do,” said Goldie. “They spoil everything, every year.” And she put her cards down. “It’s no use,” she said. “I can’t concentrate with all this noise. Let’s hide up in Tall Birch and watch them.”
The Summer People were unloading the ferry and carrying all their many possessions up the boardwalks to the cottages. It took a long time, as Sheepskerry Island had no roads and no horrible metal monsters (“They’re called ‘automobiles,’” said Clara), and the Summer People filled up wheelbarrows to bring their boxes and bags, trunks and trinkets, to the cottages on the island. Sylva flew up to a lookout post. “Looks like there are five families this year, so one cottage will be empty,” she called down to her sisters. “That’s a relief.”
“Wuh!” said Squeak.
“Yes, I’d love to do something about it, Squeakie,” said Rosy. “But there’s nothing we can do. We must just put up with them as best we can. Five families is an awful lot.” She sighed. “But I suppose it’s better than six. Be careful up there, Sylva!”
“I wonder why they need to bring so much stuff.”
“And why must they make such a racket?” asked Goldie. “Don’t they know how sensitive we are?”
“Come down at once, Sylva,” called Clara. “You mustn’t be seen.”
“Just one more minute—”
“Now, Sylva,” said Rosy.
Sylva flew down from the birch as her sister told her. “I wouldn’t mind flying into a cottage while they’re in there, just to see what the cottages are like when the Summer People are inside them,” she said. “I could sneak up on—”
“Oh dear me, no,” said Rosy, as crossly as she knew how (which wasn’t very crossly at all). “You mustn’t do anything like that. The Summer People are to be kept away from at all costs.”
“Rosy’s quite right,” said Golden. “If these human people were to see our magic and discover that fairies live here, they’d tell all their friends, who’d come hunt for us with those telescope things—”
“Cameras.”
“Yes, with cameras and torches and rakes and goodness knows what else. And that will be the end of us.”
“But if we—”
“Hush, Sylva, that’s enough,” said Clara in a clipped tone. “You remember what happened on Coombe Meadow Island, don’t you?” Clara didn’t like to have to bring up faraway Coombe Meadow, but she had to stop Sylva’s wild ideas.
The other sisters, even Squeak, fell silent. “Did all the fairies lose their homes?” asked Sylva at last.
“Every one of them. Their houses were trampled, their school was dug up, their queen’s palace was destroyed—” Rosy had to stop for breath.
“—and many of them were chased till they dropped from exhaustion. So it is lucky that they all escaped.” Clara didn’t add “with their lives.” She didn’t need to.
“I thought Summer People were nice to fairies,” said Sylva.
“Oh, they used to be nice to fairies,” said Clara. “When children still believed in fairies.” She sighed. “But those children don’t exist anymore.”
(How I wish Clara knew about you!)
“So if we value our homes and our lives and Sheepskerry Island, we must stay far away.”
“Still, if I was very careful—”
“Sylva, I won’t tell you again. You are not to go near a Summer Cottage or a Summer Dog or a Summer Cat or any of the Summer People. It is simply too dangerous. Do you understand?”
Sylva’s eyes welled up.
“Sylva understands now,” said Rosy gently to Clara. She hated to see Sylva so upset. “Don’t you, Sylva?”
“I guess so.”
“Good,” said Rosy. “Then we’ll all be safe.”
It did not occur to Rosy then, or for a long time afterward, that it might be she who would trespass into the world of the Summer People.
five
By the end of the day, the five families had moved into their summer cottages. Peace came over the island at last.
The sisters missed the fireflies that evening, and the sunset, but when they peeked their heads out of their fairy house and saw a roof of bright stars in the heavens, the waste of the day did not feel so bad.
“We only have a little time before we need to go to bed,” said Clara. “Let’s see what damage the Summer People have done so far. That way, we’ll know the worst of it before we start setting things to rights in the morning.”
Rosy fetched a lantern and put in a tiny bit of jellyfish phosphorescence, which lit up the bright night even more. Sylva took Squeak in her arms, and off they all went to explore.
“Dhaah,” said Squeak.
“Yes, it is dark, Squeak, but you’re safe,” said Goldie.
They traced the Summer People’s path from cottage to cottage and found, as they’d expected, that the Summer People had been as careless as ever.
The shell-lined path up to the Blossom sisters’ house was at sixes and sevens, and the dogs had been up to mischief in the gardens near the Seashell sisters’ place. “I’ll have to replant those mulberry bushes,” said Clara with a sigh. “More work, just when I thought I’d get a rest.”
In front of Deepwater Spring, where they washed and dried the laundry, Rosy’s face fell. “Oh dear,” she said. “Here’s a week’s worth of washing, trampled underfoot.” Every one of Squeakie’s diapers for the week had been squashed into the mud.
“Odeo!” cried Squeak.
“Never mind, Squeak,” said Rosy. “I’ll make sure you have fresh ones to keep you dry. But what a lot of work it will be.”
A sudden shriek came from Goldie, who was down on Sea Glass Beach.
“My blues! They’re gone!”
Goldie had been collecting bits of blue sea glass ever since fairy school let out. Blue sea glass is the rarest of all, as you probably know, and it’s very hard to spot. Goldie happened to have a talent for finding blue sea glass (“Probably because it’s the same color as my eyes,” she once said), and she had amassed quite a pile of it.
“Poor Goldie!” said Rosy.
“I did mention you should have brought it home to take care of it properly,” said Clara.
Goldie had left the blue sea glass in a tiny little tide pool on the beach outside White Rose Cottage so all the other fairies could stop by and admire her treasure.
“How could those Summer People ever have found it so quickly? On the first day! Why, if I ever meet one of those Summer People, I will—”
“Quiet!”
Sylva’s voice was urgent.
Then they all heard it. The rumble of a wheelbarrow up the path. People’s voices—Summer People’s voices. They were headed to White Rose Cottage, just yards from where the Fairy Bell sisters were hovering.
“Squeak!” said Squeak.
“Shhh,” said the other sisters together.
Usually the Summer People were happy to come to Sheepskerry Island. The fairies could hear it in their voices and see it in their step. It was the one nice thing about their arrival.
“What’s wrong with them?” asked Sylva.
“I don’t know,” said Rosy.
Their footsteps were heavy, and their voices had a sad note, like the sound of a buoy bell in Sheeps
kerry Bay. And there was something else, another sound that was unfamiliar to the Bell sisters.
Rosy lifted up her lantern, very, very carefully, so that it would look like no more than the moonlight glinting off a bleached shell. What she saw startled her.
Two big Summer People, a mother and a father, were pushing a cart up the hill to White Rose Cottage. It wasn’t a usual cart, crammed with tennis racquets, suitcases, and grocery bags full of food. In fact, it wasn’t a cart at all. It was a chair—a chair on wheels. And in it sat a little girl.
“Almost there, Louisa,” said the Summer Mother. “Back to White Rose Cottage.”
So the sixth cottage would have a family in it this August, Rosy thought.
“You love it here,” said the Summer Father.
“I don’t love it this year,” said the girl called Louisa. “I’ve wrecked everyone’s summer already.”
“That’s not true!” said her mother.
“It is true! You told me I shouldn’t jump off that fifth step and I did it anyway, and now my foot is smashed and everybody’s summer is spoiled because of me.”
“Oh, sweetheart, don’t think that way.”
Louisa said no more as her father maneuvered the wheeled chair up the steps to the cottage. It took him some time.
It was only because Rosy was so close to the boardwalk path that she heard what Louisa’s mother whispered to her husband. “I hope the island will work its magic, Will. It’s the only thing that will make her better.”
six
The first week of August for the Bell sisters was not so very bad. They busied themselves during the day, playing together and spending lots of time with Squeak under the cover of Cathedral Pines. Since all the fairies were there together, it was rather like what we would call sleepaway camp. Activities all day, quiet time for telling stories, and singing in the Fairy Circle at night.
The Bell girls were very good singers. “The best,” Goldie liked to say. Their voices were as clear and pretty as their names. Possibly their harmonies lacked a little depth after Tink flew off to Neverland, but the four older sisters had learned to make up for Tink’s absence with new songs they learned from the mermaids, who had learned them from sailors, who had learned them from children long ago.
Rosy and the Secret Friend Page 1
