by Gwyneth Rees
Connie shook her head, speechlessly. She couldn’t quite make sense of her feelings about Emma at the moment but she did know that, even though she was angry with her, she didn’t want to forget about her.
‘Connie, why don’t you be my best friend, instead?’ Ruby asked, before Connie had time to speak.
Connie sniffed. ‘Well . . .’
‘Good because, if you’re my best friend, I can ask you to help me with something.’
‘What?’ Connie rubbed her eyes with her sleeve.
‘I need you to help me make right the bad thing that I did. Will you? Will you help me, so I can go home again?’
Connie narrowed her eyes slightly. ‘You haven’t told me what the bad thing was yet.’
Ruby took a deep breath. ‘I will, I promise, but first I have to explain a bit more about us – fairies, I mean. You see, there are different types of fairy. There are flower fairies – they’re the most common – and there are other types too. I am a book fairy.’
‘A book fairy?’
‘That’s right. The way my world links up with your world is through certain magic books in libraries called entry-books. You can tell an entry-book from an ordinary book because it’s covered in fairy dust that sparkles when the book is being used. Only people who believe in fairies can see it sparkling, of course.’
Connie immediately remembered seeing the book covered in sparkling dust on the first day she had gone to the library. She started to look around the room, trying to spot it again, but she couldn’t.
‘We can fly in and out of your world through those books, you see,’ Ruby continued. ‘That means we can visit any part of the human world we want – so long as there’s a library there with an entry-book in it.’ She paused, as if the next bit of the story wasn’t so easy to relate.
‘Sapphire and Emerald and I found this library and, when we found we could get out through the window to the lake and go riding on the swans, we came here whenever we could. But one day I came here on my own.’ Ruby frowned. ‘I was exploring upstairs. The old lady still lived here then, so I had to keep out of her way – I had a feeling she might be the type to believe in fairies, which meant she’d be able to see me. I was having a look in her bedroom and I found some treasure. It was inside an old silver box. I’d never seen real human treasure before, but I’d read about it in books so I was really excited. I wanted to try some on just to see what I’d look like wearing it. Most of the treasures were too big for me, but then I found the ruby ring.’
‘It sounds like what you found was Mrs Fitzpatrick’s jewellery box,’ Connie said.
‘The treasure was mostly jewels,’ Ruby agreed, ‘and this ring had little rubies all around one half of it, and it was the right size to fit on my head like a crown. I looked so pretty wearing it. I really wanted to show the others, but Sapphire and Emerald hadn’t come with me because they were too busy getting ready for the fairy party we were having that night. Then I thought, why don’t I wear the ruby crown to the party? I can borrow it for one night, then bring it straight back. I was so excited that I forgot the rule—’ She broke off, looking ashamed.
‘What rule?’ Connie asked.
‘The fairy rule that says that when fairies pass from your world into our world, they can’t take anything with them that doesn’t come of its own free will. You see, I forgot to ask the ring if it wanted to come.’
‘How can you ask a ring something? A ring is just a thing – it can’t talk.’
‘Things know where they want to be, just the same. If a fairy asks something if it wants to come with her into fairyland and the thing starts to glow like it’s covered in fairy dust, then that’s a sign that it’s saying yes. Sapphire and I took an injured toy soldier back with us into fairyland soon after we first came here. It wanted to come with us because it didn’t like being left upstairs in the old nursery all by itself. And once I took a bookmark that had fallen out of someone’s book in a library and was getting all dirty because it had been put in the rubbish bin. It was desperate to come with me. But you see, that ring must have not wanted to come – some things don’t – so when I tried to take it through into our world, it vanished.’
‘Vanished?’ Connie stared at Ruby. ‘Into nothing, you mean?’
‘No – it just went somewhere else. The fairy queen says things always go to the location of their happiest moment here on earth. I thought the ring might have had its happiest moment here in this house, but I looked everywhere and I couldn’t find it. I heard the old lady tell her housekeeper that it had been in her family for generations. I listened very hard to see if the old lady would say any more about it, but she didn’t. Then she started to think her housekeeper’s son might have stolen the ring when he came to visit his mother and the housekeeper got upset and left and never came back. Then, when the old lady was trying to climb the stairs on her own one day, she had a fall and broke her hip and she couldn’t stay in the house alone afterwards. She ended up having to move into that nursing home in the village. She got her lawyer to organize a search of the house to try and find the ring, but it was no good. He couldn’t find it either. And unless I find it and give it back, I can’t go back to my own world – not for ages anyway. Not until I’ve read and sorted out every one of these books.’ Ruby finished speaking and looked at Connie. ‘The fairy queen says that fairies who cause trouble for humans have to be punished. But I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, Connie. I honestly didn’t mean to.’
Connie looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t think you’re a bad fairy,’ she said, slowly. ‘Perhaps you just didn’t think enough about what might happen before you did what you did. Something like that happened to me once. When I was little, I wore one of my mum’s necklaces to school without asking her. I must have not done the clasp up properly and it came off. We couldn’t find it anywhere. I felt terrible because it was my mum’s favourite necklace and she was really upset. So, even though I didn’t mean to hurt my mum, I hurt her quite a lot.’ Connie flushed as she remembered.
‘I wish fairies could use their magic to turn back the clock and change things sometimes,’ Ruby muttered softly. ‘But it’s not allowed.’
Connie frowned. ‘I’d like to help you, but the thing is – I’m not sure how to. I mean, I don’t know where Mrs Fitzpatrick’s ring had its happiest moment, any more than you do.’
‘You can go and see her and ask her though, can’t you? She probably knows lots about what happened to that ring in the past.’
‘But I don’t know her,’ Connie protested. ‘She might not want me to go and see her.’
‘Why don’t you take her some flowers from her garden?’ Ruby said, flying over to the window to look out. ‘Then you’ll have a good reason to visit.’
‘There aren’t any flowers in the garden,’ Connie said, yawning. It was true. The house’s flower beds hadn’t been looked after in a long time and they were mostly full of weeds.
‘I sprinkled some fairy dust on the bank earlier this evening. Come and look.’
Connie went over to the window. Outside the house the moonlight was shining down on the lake and the garden, and Connie couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw what was out there. ‘WOW!’ she gasped.
The grassy bank outside – which she had thought looked strangely sparkly earlier on – was now totally covered in purple bluebells.
‘This is ridiculous!’ snorted Uncle Maurice after he had opened his post the following morning. ‘Look at this, Connie! Does that look like the fiercest dragon in the universe to you?’
The first illustration for the front cover of Uncle Maurice’s new book had just been sent to him from his publisher. Apparently, front covers needed to be ready a very long time before the publication day of the book – which explained why the people who published Uncle Maurice’s books had already started work on the cover, even though the book itself wasn’t even finished.
Connie looked at the picture and smiled. ‘The dragon does look quite friendly,’ she
agreed.
Aunt Alice came over to look too. ‘I expect they didn’t want to put childen off by making him too scary,’ she said. Aunt Alice didn’t really approve of writing scary stories for children.
‘Nonsense!’ Connie’s uncle burst out. ‘Children love scary stories. The scarier the better! And this is a story about a scary dragon, not one who looks like a great big pussy cat!’
‘It’s not very scary to eat jelly babies,’ Connie pointed out. ‘Maybe you should make him eat real babies instead.’
Her uncle glared at her. ‘I shall phone them right now and tell them what I think of this,’ he snapped. ‘And then I’m going to add a few things myself to this picture – bigger nostrils for one thing! Then I’ll go down to the post office and send it straight back to them.’
‘If you’re going to the village,’ Connie put in, quickly, ‘can I come with you? I’ve picked some flowers and I’d like to take them to Mrs Fitzpatrick.’
Uncle Maurice just grunted and left the room, but Aunt Alice looked across at her and smiled. ‘What a lovely idea, Connie. Where did you find some flowers? I haven’t seen any in the garden.’
‘There are some bluebells on the bank,’ Connie said, flushing slightly. ‘I picked some yesterday.’
‘Bluebells? At this time of year? Are you sure they’re bluebells, Connie? Let me see.’
So Connie went to fetch the big bunch of flowers she had picked last night and put in a bucket of water in her bedroom.
Her aunt looked surprised when she saw them. ‘You’re quite right, darling. They are bluebells. How odd. They must be fairy flowers then.’
‘What? ’
‘Fairy flowers was the name my grandmother used to give to flowers that bloomed out of season. She said it meant that the fairies had been at work.’
‘Was that your Irish grandmother? The one who believed fairies were real?’
‘That’s right. She was always trying to get your mum and me to believe that too.’
‘And did you?’
‘Only when we were very little – much younger than you are now.’ Aunt Alice smiled. ‘I think fairies are a lovely idea, especially for children. Of course, your uncle thinks they’re more than just an idea – but then he thinks differently to me about a lot of things.’
Connie remembered how her uncle had told her there were fairies down by the lake. She had thought he was only teasing her.
Later that morning, as she sat in the passenger seat of her uncle’s car on the way to the village, Connie sneaked a look at him. It was hard to imagine him believing in fairies, even if he did write stories about dragons. ‘Aunt Alice says she doesn’t think fairies are real,’ she began, cautiously. ‘But that you do.’ She waited to see if her uncle would deny it.
‘Don’t start me on that topic,’ Uncle Maurice replied, sounding gruff.
‘What? Fairies?’
‘Believing and not believing. You don’t hear people going around asking each other if they believe in children, do you? Or dogs? Or anything else that’s plainly there, right under their nose.’
‘Do you think fairies are there, right under people’s noses then?’ Connie asked, staring in surprise at her uncle.
‘Course they are! Most people are just too positive to see them, that’s all.’
‘Too positive?’ Connie felt confused.
‘That’s right. Too positive that there’s no such thing. No wonder they never see them, if that’s the way they think, eh? It’s doubtful people who see fairies, Connie – not ones who think they know everything there is to know.’
They had just reached the nursing home, which was situated on the edge of the village. ‘Here you are. I’ll come and fetch you when I’m done at the post office,’ Uncle Maurice said.
Connie was left to walk up to the front door of the old people’s home alone, still thinking about what her uncle had said. Could it be a good thing to be doubtful then? She had always thought that being doubtful was something to be avoided. She rang the bell and waited. Eventually the door was opened by a young woman in a white nurse’s dress and a blue cardigan.
‘I’ve come to visit Mrs Fitzpatrick,’ Connie said.
The nurse looked at the flowers and smiled at her. ‘Well, that’s a nice surprise for her. She’s sitting in the garden. I’ll take you through.’ As they walked along the hallway she asked if Connie was a relative of the old lady.
‘No, but I’m staying in her house. These are from her garden,’ Connie added.
‘Bluebells still growing at this time of year? That’s unusual, isn’t it?’
‘My auntie says they must be fairy flowers,’ Connie said.
The nurse laughed.
Mrs Fitzpatrick was sitting in a wheelchair next to a table at the top end of the garden. She was reading a book with large print. She took off her glasses as the nurse crouched down beside her.
‘Mrs Fitzpatrick, you’ve got a visitor. And look what she’s brought you.’
‘I’m Connie,’ Connie said quickly. ‘I’m staying in your flat at Bluebell Hall with my aunt and uncle. These flowers are from your garden.’
The nurse left them together. Mrs Fitzpatrick’s grey-blue eyes narrowed as she stared first at Connie then at the flowers, then back at Connie’s face again. She had white hair set in neat curls, and a very wrinkled face that had a bit too much face powder on it.
‘What month is it?’ Mrs Fitzpatrick demanded. She had a strong voice for such a frail-looking old lady.
‘July.’
‘Well, the bluebells at the Hall should be over by now – May is their time.’
‘I know, but these must be special ones, I think.’
Mrs Fitzpatrick put out her hand to take the flowers. Her hands were very shaky, but they seemed to steady themselves once she had the bunch of flowers in her grasp. ‘Beautiful,’ she pronounced. As she looked at Connie, her eyes seemed to lose their greyness and become almost the same shade of purply-blue as the flowers.
‘Shall I ask the nurse to put them in a vase for you?’ Connie offered.
‘Later.’ Mrs Fitzpatrick held them to her nose and sniffed them. ‘Lovely. Tell me your name again.’
‘Connie. I thought the bluebells might remind you of your home. In case you were missing it.’
‘I don’t miss it,’ the old lady grunted. ‘Not how it is now anyway. I only miss how it used to be when I was a girl – that’s the Bluebell Hall I like to remember.’
‘I think I miss it how it used to be too,’ Connie said. Then she blushed because she realized how silly that sounded. ‘What I mean is that I’ve been trying to imagine how it must have looked before it . . . well, when it was all grand and lovely . . . and I’m really sorry that I never got to see it when it was like that.’
Mrs Fitzpatrick nodded as if she understood. ‘It was very impressive when I was young. Full of people. Not like now. My parents always had lots of friends. They used to throw big parties at the Hall. My sister and I used to watch all the guests arriving from the upstairs landing. The entrance hall was always my favourite part of the house. You should go inside and have a look sometime.’
Connie suddenly felt the urge to confess. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but your library window was open and I climbed through to look inside. I know I shouldn’t have without asking and I’m sorry. Your estate agent caught me and he was very cross.’ She frowned. ‘Did he tell you?’
The old lady shook her head, not looking too concerned. ‘Nobody tells me anything these days. Nobody wants to worry me. That lawyer of mine thinks I worry very easily just because I’m old, but he’s mistaken. I was never the worrying kind. Took after my father in that way. That’s why he and I got on so well. Used to drive my poor mother mad with the things we’d get up to that made her worry.’ Mrs Fitzpatrick laughed.
Connie took a deep breath. Since they seemed to be talking about the past . . .
‘There’s something I wanted to ask you,’ she began, feeling her face grow hot. �
�Have you found your ruby ring yet?’
Mrs Fitzpatrick looked surprised. ‘How do you know about that?’
Connie inwardly kicked herself. What could she say now? She could hardly say that she knew about it because a fairy had told her. But before she could say anything at all, Mrs Fitzpatrick continued talking.
‘Of course, everybody knows everything in this village. I expect my housekeeper told everyone she knew and they told everyone they knew and now I don’t suppose I can expect it to be news to anyone. No, my dear. I haven’t found the ring.’ She sighed. ‘It’s been in my family for six generations, you know. I didn’t have any children or I would have passed it on to them. I was going to leave it to my niece in my will.’
‘It must be really old,’ Connie said. ‘Do you know who gave it to your family in the first place?’
‘Interested in history, are you?’ The old lady smiled. ‘Nice to find a young person who is for a change. The ring was first given to one of my ancestors about two hundred years ago, I think. One of the daughters of the house was in love with a young man of a neighbouring family. He gave her the ring as a parting gift just before he went off to fight in a war. He was killed in battle and the story is that she planted a tree in memory of him at the spot where he’d given her the ring – the place in the grounds of Bluebell Hall where they always used to meet.’
Connie felt excited. ‘Whereabouts was that? Is the tree still there?’
‘Oh yes. It’s a very tall oak tree now, just inside the grounds of the house, at the very back where our family’s land used to meet the land of our neighbour.’
‘Is the oak tree easy to find?’ Connie asked.
‘It’s the only oak tree there – the wishing tree, my sister and I used to call it.’
Just then, the nurse came back, carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. She took the flowers away with her to put them in a vase.
‘Well, Connie, it’s very nice of you to come and see me. I don’t get many visitors these days. Make sure you never run out of friends the way I have, my dear. It can be very lonely if you do.’
