by Alison Evans
His blush grows like fairy floss. ‘Maybe.’
‘I do. Babs definitely does.’
‘Bec’s just really nice.’
‘Hey,’ I say, sitting opposite Babs. The boy sits next to her. ‘Did you order?’
‘Bec couldn’t see me,’ Babs says, voice barely above a whisper. ‘I didn’t know what to do so I just sat here. I thought Livia would be working – she normally works Mondays. I didn’t want to go home because I didn’t want to have to tell Mum why I was back so early.’
‘Have you eaten?’ the boy asks.
Bec brings over our drinks.
‘Can we get a cappuccino as well, please?’ the boy asks, still blushing. I didn’t know he could get more red.
Once Bec leaves, Babs nods. ‘I had my lunch I brought from home.’
‘Do you want more?’
She shrugs, and she flickers again.
The boy looks at me.
‘Why don’t you come over tonight, Babs?’ I ask. ‘You too,’ I add, looking at the boy, ‘if you want. It’ll be nice. I’m sure Clover and Moss won’t mind.’
Bec brings over the cappuccino before anyone can reply. ‘Hey, Babs, Livia says you’re getting free coffee today, and we’ve got some focaccias I’m heating up for youse, otherwise I gotta throw them out.’ She pauses, like she’s noticed the way Babs looks so lost and so small. ‘It’s good you have each other. Make sure you stick together, okay?’ She goes back to tend to the focaccias.
‘I’d like that,’ Babs says to me. ‘Do we need to bring anything?’
‘We’ll manage,’ I say.
Clover and Moss leave us to our own devices. Bec gave us heaps of focaccias so we have them for dinner. My favourite is the one with the pesto and sundried tomato. Babs is flickering less, and she puts extra cheese on the focaccia she’s eating. It’s dribbled out onto her top, but she doesn’t mind.
We’re in the lounge in the dark, watching an Elvis movie. It’s one of the ones where he’s a racing-car driver, and we’re not really paying attention, though the boy sings along to every song.
‘Saltkin came and saw me today in the library,’ I say. ‘He warned me not to look for the witch. He said it’s dangerous.’
‘Of course it’s dangerous,’ Babs says. ‘I know it’s dangerous.’
‘The other thing is . . .’ I hesitate. I should have told them earlier. ‘I’m in a faerie pact to not go looking for her.’
Babs stares at me. ‘What? That’s so dangerous!’
‘Saltkin made it with me accidentally . . . I should have said something sooner.’ My face burns with shame.
‘Iris, that’s so scary.’
‘What happens if you break it?’ the boy asks.
‘Dunno,’ Babs says. ‘But whatever it is, it’s not good. Iris, what if I want to go? Without you?’
I swallow. ‘I’ll help you as much as I can. But Saltkin said it would be bad if I broke the pact.’
‘Maybe there’s a way around it.’ The TV is lighting up the boy’s face.
‘If he’s warning me, it’s going to be really bad.’ I turn to Babs. She’s flickering, almost as much as this morning. ‘Babs, come on, the boy’s right. We’ll figure out a way around it. Faeries are masters at words, there will be a loophole.’
Her eyes are full of tears.
‘Don’t worry,’ I say. ‘We’ll be okay. We can find her.’
Chapter Sixteen
The Story of Babs and the Heavy Day
Babs was not feeling good that morning. In fact, she felt like a puddle of goo. She didn’t press the snooze on her alarm, she just turned it off. Sadie huffed her big old dog lungs and kept on sleeping. A few minutes later, Wendy tapped on the bedroom door. ‘Babs? Time for school.’
Babs kept her eyes closed. She didn’t know how to say what she was feeling. It was like sad, but it was much more empty than that. She had always told herself that because her mother had depression, she couldn’t have it. For some reason this seemed to make sense.
She rolled over to face the wall and opened her eyes. The curtains were not drawn, so she stared out of the window at the bright day. The trees that hid her house from the road swayed in the breeze. Another blustery Melbourne spring day. She usually loved them, but today she couldn’t quite muster up much of any feeling.
Wendy came back and opened the door this time after knocking. ‘Sweets?’
Babs looked at her, and Wendy’s face softened. Although it was always soft.
Wendy sat on the bed. She put her hand on Babs’s head. ‘Maybe we should go see someone today.’
Babs knew she meant a GP.
‘I don’t think I can.’
‘I’ll do all the talking.’ She stroked Babs’s hair. ‘I’ve been thinking this for a while.’
Babs wished she could just magic this away.
‘I think most of this is from thinking about the witch,’ Babs said. But she wasn’t so sure. Had she always felt this yawning pit in her?
‘That’s probably true,’ Wendy said. ‘Either way, you’re under a lot of stress. I’ll call the doctor and see if she has any appointments available today, okay?’
Babs nodded.
Wendy left the room, and Babs listened to her talk on the phone in the kitchen. She wondered what Wendy was saying.
On the bedside table, Babs’s phone vibrated with a message. She knew before checking that it would be from Iris. She told them she wouldn’t be at school that day, and then she couldn’t look at her phone anymore. But she couldn’t put it down either, so she just lay there playing a game, matching shapes and colours.
Wendy came in to tell her when the doctor’s appointment would be that day, then left Babs to herself. She went back to sleep.
When Babs woke, her mouth was dry and her stomach was spiking with hunger. She got up, went to the toilet, and got in the shower. It was a little cold, but she couldn’t quite make her hand reach the tap to change it. So she stood there, in the almost-warm-enough water, for a bit too long.
As she turned the tap off, she started to shiver. She looked in the mirror and saw her hair dye was fading. She got back into her pyjamas and sat at the kitchen table, ate some jam toast that had no flavour.
‘Do you want to see the witch?’ Wendy asked. ‘I assumed you wouldn’t want to. But maybe that’s not the right thing. Do you want to try to get her to lift the curse?’
‘I don’t know.’
Both outcomes were bad. If Babs continued on like this, flickering in and out of life. If she met the witch and somehow got the curse lifted, she would be seen all the time. Sometimes she liked this life. She liked it a lot. It meant she could go to the realm whenever she wanted; she didn’t have to go to school all the time. She could stay at home and not get into trouble.
But then Iris was the first person to see her more than once, apart from Wendy and Livia. What a lonely life. Babs imagined it stretching out across the years.
‘I don’t know,’ Babs repeated.
‘That’s okay. I’ve got to do some work, but let me know if you need anything. Do you want to camp out in the lounge today?’
Babs wanted to stay in her room all day. ‘Yes.’
Wendy got a blanket and a pillow, propped them on the couch. She shooed Babs away to the lounge while she made her some tea. Babs flicked through the app on her phone, but she didn’t know what to watch. When Wendy brought out a little tray with tea, biscuits and a cupcake, she asked if Babs minded if Wendy chose what to watch. Babs shook her head. So Wendy put on a DVD of one of Babs’s favourite movies from when she was a kid. Babs fell asleep on the couch halfway through. When she woke, she felt a little more alive.
When Wendy took her to the doctor, she sat in the car and stared out the window at all the trees rushing past. Th
e witch was somewhere out there, and that was all Babs could think about as she gazed at the greenery.
After they were out of the trees, and in town, Babs felt more exposed. The witch was in the forest, yes, but the town was something else. Babs knew the forest, but the town was full of strange things. Anything could happen.
They drove through a few more towns, as the good doctor didn’t live near them. When Wendy finally pulled up in front of the building, Babs wished she could sink into the seat.
‘We won’t be long,’ said Wendy. ‘And this is the hardest bit. Then it’ll get easier.’
‘Easier to what?’
‘Know when you need help.’
Wendy led Babs up the ramp to the offices, and checked in with the receptionist. Babs stared at the stack of old magazines on the table in front of her. There were old picture books too, falling apart from so many hands.
The doctor called out her name ten minutes later and Babs followed Wendy into the room. Everything was varying shades of blue, except for the jellybeans in a jar on the desk. Dr Cheng had been seeing Wendy for a long time, but Babs had always been to the local clinic that was bulk-billed and closer to home.
Dr Cheng and Wendy talked for a while, Wendy thanking her for seeing Babs today. Wendy asked Babs a lot of questions that felt terrible to answer, but more terrible not to answer. When the questioning was done, Dr Cheng said Babs should see a counsellor. Babs stared at her hands and tried to stop the tears that were welling up. She did stop them, but there was a deep ache in her.
Dr Cheng recommended a few places and made Babs a mental health-care plan, so that if they did have to pay it would be a little cheaper. The doctor printed out a list of trans-friendly counsellors and psychologists.
Babs felt guilty that she needed something that cost money.
When they were finished, Dr Cheng gave Babs and Wendy a jellybean each.
‘You can see the counsellor at school if you want,’ Wendy said. ‘Or we can try some of these.’
‘How am I supposed to talk to someone about the witch if they’ll think I’m making it all up?’
‘That’s a good point, Babsy. I don’t know. We can think of a plan later.’
‘I don’t want to see the one at school.’
‘Okay. We’ll find someone else. I’ll call around.’
Babs nodded.
When they were almost in town, Wendy asked if Babs wanted to go to the Eaglefern Cafe.
‘Don’t you have to do work today?’ Babs asked, but she wanted to say yes. She could picture the cakes and the tarts that Livia would have baked fresh that morning.
‘We won’t stay long,’ Wendy said.
Babs knew that meant they would probably stay for a while and then go to the op shop a few doors down.
When the doorbell tinkled as they walked in, Livia gasped. ‘My two favourite girls. How are ya?’ She hugged Wendy, but she could sense Babs didn’t want a hug that day.
Babs said hello, then went and sat at the big cushy couch at the back next to the window. She wished Iris and the boy were there, and the three of them were just sitting together, reading. Her friends wouldn’t ask about her day, and she wouldn’t have to talk about the witch.
Instead of messaging them, she looked out the window. The bees were gathering their pollen, and a faerie was sitting under the leaves of a dahlia.
The faerie was preening their wings, the way an insect does except with their fingers. Babs watched as they moved the gossamer wings through their hands. Babs had never seen a faerie do this before. Once the faerie had finished, they lay on their stomach and spread their wings out under the sun. Babs smiled.
Wendy was still talking to Livia, too softly for Babs to hear anything they were saying. She wondered if perhaps they were talking about her, or just catching up. Maybe a bit of both. Babs knew depression was nothing to be ashamed of, Wendy had had it for as long as Babs could remember. Babs knew it was a disease.
But Babs still felt shame.
Livia brought Babs a brownie. It was soft and fresh, and Babs leaned into the back of the couch as she ate it. The sun moved across the room, and Babs liked the feel of it on her skin. Just like the faerie, she bathed in the light. Babs felt like she should be doing something, like reading or messaging someone, or playing a game, but she did none of those things. She just sat there, the taste of the brownie still on her tongue, and she relished being in the sun.
Afterwards, Wendy bought a couple of things from the op shop, and they went home. Wendy went to the kitchen to do some spellwork, and Babs went to her room. She dug around in her schoolbag and pulled out the sheet for a science project due next week: a poster about an aspect of Antarctica. Babs had studied Antarctica a few times over the years, so she decided to write about the penguins with the little yellow bits coming off their faces.
She was almost half done when she realised the deep pit of her wasn’t as yawning anymore. She felt lighter, less like goo. She felt.
So she stopped working and went out into the kitchen where Wendy was putting the finishing touches on a spell.
‘I’ll make dinner tonight,’ Babs said. She smiled at Wendy, who smiled back.
‘Thanks, Babsy.’
‘Thanks, Mum. For today.’
Wendy pulled her into a hug. ‘I know it’s hard. But you’ll be okay.’
Babs hugged Wendy with all the strength she had. ‘I know.’
Chapter Seventeen
The New Scar
It’s warmer than I expected on the bus ride home, the outside world moving by in dark blues and orange streetlights. The sound that passing cars make means it’s been raining recently, but it’s not now. The sky is stormy and thick, indigoes and greys and black. I wonder if it’ll rain again. The air coming through the bus window is warm, I can taste the rain on it.
I trace the newest sigil scar on my arm. I’ve managed to hide it for a few days, though it’s pretty and I want to show it off. Like a little flower almost, curving petals around a centre. The one on my leg is like a twig. I wonder if they’re about plants because the book knows, or if it’s all a coincidence.
When I get off the bus, the outside light is on, peeking through the wisteria branches. Inside, the house smells like pancakes; usually Clover only makes them in the morning, but maybe they’re for dessert. When I walk into the kitchen, she hasn’t noticed I’m home. She’s got her daggy trackie daks on, with the dirt stains that just won’t come off no matter how hard she tries, and a plaid shirt rolled up at the elbows, her hair in a bun that has half come loose. She’s scrubbing something off a tray using steel wool. The pancakes must be gone already. She gives up on the tray and lets it sink into the water.
When she turns around, she jumps in fright. ‘Sprout! I didn’t hear you come in.’
‘I just got here.’
‘How was Babs’s? How’s her mum?’
‘Yeah, they’re good, it was nice.’ I reach for an apple on the table, and Clover cries out.
‘What is that?’ she asks, pointing to my arm.
‘An apple?’ I ask, looking down at it. And then I notice the sigil scar, still red and raised against my skin although it’s been a few days. ‘Oh.’
Moss comes into the kitchen, a book she must’ve been reading still in her hand. ‘What’s wrong?’
Clover’s looking at me like her heart has broken, and I wonder if there’s any way I can not tell her about the magic.
‘I didn’t do it,’ I say.
‘What happened?’ Clover reaches for Moss’s hand.
‘Um.’
Saltkin flits in through the open window. He looks from the scar, to my mothers, to me. A red wave travels along his skin, turns his wings into flames briefly. The kitchen feels cold.
He comes over. ‘It’s okay, Iris,’ h
e says. ‘Maybe you should tell them.’
I don’t reply with words, but I nod.
‘I’ll show you,’ I say to my mothers. My heart picks up, beating a little too fast. I can feel it in my throat, and I take a deep breath. The book is lighter than I remember as I take it out of my schoolbag and put it on the table.
Moss and Clover look at it, then each other.
‘The book gave me the scar.’ I flick through the pages until the ones that appeared at Babs’s house are there.
‘What does this mean, Iris?’ Moss asks, sadness spilling from her words. She puts her book down on the table without marking her page. ‘You got the idea from this?’
‘Is this a spell?’ Clover asks.
I nod. ‘I can do magic. Er, like proper magic.’
‘You can?’ Moss asks while she watches Clover pore over the page.
‘Can you read this?’ Clover points towards the book.
I frown, take a closer look. I can, but now I realise it’s not in English. ‘I can’t explain it, but yes. It’s a long story.’
Clover sits down at the table, gestures for us to do the same. ‘We’ve got time.’
I sit opposite them both, and it reminds me of times I got in trouble when I was little. But their faces are kind, and sad, and I don’t want them to think this is anything other than what it is. I know they’ll believe me, but still, revealing everything is strange. I’ve known about magic forever; I met Saltkin when I was a toddler. Back then I told my mothers about Saltkin and the other fae, and the dryads, and learning that I could talk to plants, but that was when I was small. I haven’t mentioned it as if it were real in a long time.
Surely if you grow a baby from a seed in the ground, you’re predisposed to believe in magic.
‘Um.’ I take a breath, fluttering and deep. ‘Do you remember Saltkin?’
Moss nods. ‘Your imaginary friend when you were little. You loved going on adventures in the backyard – you’d tell us the most wonderful stories.’
