Away With the Fairies

by Twist, Jenny

  Away With the Fairies

  By Jenny Twist

  Copyright© 2012 Jenny Twist

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Credits

  Editor: Emily Eva Editing

  Cover Art: Novel Prevue

  Dedication:

  For Caroline, the best friend in the world.

  The Realm of Fairy is a strange shadow land, lying just beyond the fields we know.”~Author Unknown

  Away With the Fairies

  Jenny Twist

  “Lucy!”

  June stopped dead in the bedroom doorway. Lucy was sitting staring at the wall. Again. She did it all the time these days. Mum said she was suffering from some sort of condition that made her go into a trance. It sounded like someone's name – Betty Moll? – something like that. But Granny McCurdle said, “Och, she's away wi' the fairies again.” And that sounded so much nicer.

  Even so, she didn't want to wake her up. You weren't supposed to wake people up if they were sleepwalking. Maybe it was the same with a trance. She didn't know what happened to them. Did they die? Or go mad? She just didn't want to take the chance. So she moved across the room very quietly and sat beside her sister on the bed.

  There was a tiny tear in the wallpaper just opposite where Lucy was sitting. Lucy said that was what she had to concentrate on to make the trance come. Only she didn't call it a trance. She said she went to look at Fairyland.

  June leant forward and stared at the tear in the paper. It was that kind of lumpy paper called Anna something – Anna Galloper? The wall remained blank and ordinary. June sat back a bit and refocused. And there was something – just the slightest suggestion of green - a pale shifting of green shadows, a bit like a film being projected onto a screen. Fascinated, she concentrated harder. Then, just as the shadows started to coalesce into a picture, the cat, Mitzy, shot across the room and ran straight into the wall. Straight into the middle of what had become a picture of a forest. And she ran into the shadows under the trees and disappeared behind a trunk.

  June gasped with shock.

  “Mitzy!” Lucy stood up and ran after the cat, straight through - or was it into - the wall. But the wall wasn't there anymore. A real live forest was standing beyond the hole where the wall was supposed to be.

  Shaking, June stood up, her hands outstretched like a blind man, feeling in front of her for where the wall used to be. Then with an audible pop! the wall reappeared, just at the ends of her fingers. She felt it smack against them as it came back.

  “Whoo!” June sat down again suddenly and stared at the wall. It was white and blank and innocent again. She remained staring at the wall for a long time.

  ****

  “June! Lucy! Lunch!”

  It was Mum. What was she going to do? She couldn't tell Mum Lucy had walked through the wall. They would call for the plain van to take her away. That's what Granny McCurdle said if anybody went mad - “The plain van came to take them away.” The plain van was full of men in white coats. June imagined them in white raincoats with the collars turned up and white hats pulled down over their faces. She shuddered. She wasn't going to say anything.

  “Coming, Mum!”

  Mum didn't seem at all fazed that Lucy didn't come. “Lucy not with you?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow, and then, when June shrugged and shook her head. “Oh, I expect she's wandered off somewhere and gone into one of her trances. Here you are, your favourite.” She put a plate of fish fingers on the table and went out into the garden to look for Lucy.

  June stared miserably at the fish fingers, feeling slightly sick.

  The clock on the wall ticked loudly, the hands moving slowly round, and the fish fingers congealed on the plate, but Mum didn't find Lucy. First she just looked in all the rooms quietly, so as not to disturb her if she was in a trance. Then she began to call for her, her voice going higher and more strained as the afternoon went on. She went through the whole house again, looking in all the cupboards and under all the beds, still calling.

  When the clock said half past three and she still hadn't found Lucy, she called Dad at work.

  June felt sicker than ever. You weren't allowed to call Dad at work unless it was a DIRE EMERGENCY.

  “Yes, I've looked everywhere.” Pause. “But she never goes to any of her friends to play!” Another pause. “All right, I'll ring round, but Ben, please come home.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, but June could still hear. “I'm really frightened.”

  By five o'clock Dad and Mum had searched the whole house cellar to attic, twice and called all the neighbours and all Lucy's friends. Now Dad was talking to the police station, his voice a bit squeaky and cracked, nothing like his normal voice at all.

  June was still sitting in the kitchen in front of the cold fish fingers when the policeman came. He was a nice policeman, with a kind smile and he sat opposite June, leaning forward with his arms on the table and asked her the question she had been waiting, in mute terror, for someone to ask. “Do you know where Lucy is?”

  June shook her head, looking down at the fish fingers, which seemed to stare back at her reproachfully. It wasn't exactly a lie. She had no idea whether the place in the wall was actually Fairyland or even if it was actually in the wall.

  “When did you last see her?”

  The policeman's eyes crinkled at the corners. June thought he probably had children of his own.

  She shook her head again. Then forced herself to speak. “This morning, after breakfast.”

  The policeman looked up questioningly at Mum.

  “It would have been about eight o' clock,” Mum said. Her eyes were red and sore-looking. June felt a horrible sinking in her stomach.

  The policeman turned back to her. “And what was she doing?”

  “She was staring at the wall.”

  Mum bent forward. “Lucy suffers from petit mal. She often goes into a trance.”

  The policeman frowned and looked concerned. “It's not serious,” Mum hastened to add. “Most people grow out of it. But it's why we weren't too worried at first. She quite often goes off into a corner somewhere and goes into a trance.”

  June was surprised. As far as she knew Lucy only did it in the bedroom. She'd never seen her go into a trance anywhere else. Maybe Mum had never noticed.

  “Did she say anything about what she was going to do? Where she might be going?” The policeman was smiling his kind smile again, and suddenly she couldn't bear it any more. “She's gone to Fairyland.” The words came out all in a rush. The policeman went on smiling. He didn't even seem surprised.

  “That's what she always says,” Mum said, “when she comes out of a trance. That she was looking at the fairies.”

  The policeman nodded, as if it was the most natural thing in the world that Lucy should have gone to Fairyland. But he didn't ask her any more questions after that. He and Mum went out of the room and June was left on her own in the kitchen, wondering when the plain van would come.

  ****

  After a while, when nobody came, she got up and scraped her plate into the bin, fish fingers, tomato sauce, chips and all. Feeling strangely liberated, she went out of the kitchen. The policeman had gone and so had Dad. Only Mum was left, sitting forlornly by the phone, her eyes red and swollen, still sobbing. Suddenly the phone rang and she jumped, then picked it up. “Hello, Wainwright residence.” Pause. “No, no news. They're searching now.” She gave a little sob. “Ben's out with them, but they told me to stay by the phone, in case...in case...” she broke off and began to cry in earnest. “I'm sorry, I can't...can't seem to...” She gulped. “Sorry,” and put the phone down. June dithered in the doorway. She wanted to run to Mum, but she knew how much
she hated anyone to see her cry. After a moment she went upstairs.

  Now the cat was out of the bag, she might as well see what she could do before the van came. Maybe she could get Lucy back somehow. Stop Mum crying.

  She sat on Lucy's bed opposite the torn bit of wall-paper, closed her eyes and tried to remember exactly what Lucy had said when she was explaining how she made the picture come.

  “You've got to squinch up your eyes,” she had said, “and then sort of squinch sideways.” And when June just looked at her, uncomprehending, she went on, “Like those pictures, you know? The ones where you squinch your eyes and suddenly they go all real and you can look inside them and round the corners.” June had been disheartened by this. She had never been able to get the 3D pictures to work. Had, in fact, not really believed that it could be done, that people just said they could see it to annoy her. But she had dutifully stared at the wall and crossed and uncrossed her eyes until her head ached and her eyes were sore. But nothing happened.

  But maybe now it would. Now she knew it could happen. Now she had seen it with her own eyes. She opened her eyes and stared at the wall and squinched as hard as she could.

  The bit of torn paper remained impassive. Now and again she thought she could see just a suggestion of green light, but it went away again, so maybe it was just her eyes playing tricks. Eventually, feeling dispirited and miserable, she got up to go. But, just as she stood up, she glanced back at the wall, and it was happening! The green light danced over the white surface, then suddenly coalesced into a recognisable picture, the green wood. Afraid to look away in case it disappeared again, she edged her way back onto the bed and stared into Fairyland.

  It was a rather gloomy wood, but June thought that was probably because the trees were keeping the light out, rather than that it was night in there. At first it was so still that it might have been a photograph, and then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something run rapidly up a tree. It was gone before she had time to focus, so she couldn't be sure what it was. A squirrel, maybe? But it had seemed to be the wrong colour for a squirrel, greenish, like the trunks of the trees and the ground beneath. But then, who knew what colour squirrels would be in Fairyland?

  As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she could make out more and more. Butterflies clinging to the trunks of the trees, their wings iridescent and predominantly green; small creatures scurrying about amongst the leaf mould under the trees; fungi and small bluebell-like flowers. All of them looking green in the dim light.

  After a while, she became aware that something was staring back at her. It was in the tree which the squirrel-like creature had run up. May even be the squirrel. A pair of bright eyes staring out of the foliage. Straight back at her!

  She reared back a bit, but didn't look away. She daren't risk losing the picture.

  The creature stared back, unblinking. Bit by bit she began to make out details. Definitely not a squirrel. Its face was, in fact, very human-like, but with rather pointy ears. And its eyes were a bit too big, reminding her of pictures of bush babies. Furthermore, she was almost sure it was wearing clothes! Surely not! But, unless his skin was very green indeed, he certainly seemed to be clothed. And the hat was unmistakable. A fairy!

  She peered deeper into the picture, trying to see whether it had wings. But it was impossible to tell. It was so dark behind him, under the trees, and anyway, he could have them folded up.

  June and the fairy stared at each other for what seemed like a long time. Then, suddenly, the fairy leapt forward, straight at her! June gave a little scream and scuttled backwards. The wall snapped back into place with an audible pop, and Fairyland, complete with the fairy, disappeared.

  June sat on her own bed, further away from the wall, near the window. She was shaking so hard she could hear the mattress underneath her making little creaking noises as it moved with her. The wall was definitely back to normal now. Not even a hint of green. She drew a deep breath. She wanted to run away, go downstairs to Mum, but she couldn't bear the thought of watching her mother cry when she knew where Lucy was, and wasn't doing anything about it. And Mitzy! A great wave of guilt washed over her. She hadn't thought about the poor little cat at all. It was no good. She was going to have to pluck up the courage and open the door to Fairyland again. But she was so frightened. Maybe if she just waited a while, she'd feel braver. She got her book off the bedside table and tried to read.

  It was a great book, actually - ‘The Magic Faraway Tree’- and usually as soon as she started reading it she was just lost in another world. But not this time. This time she found her attention wandering. She would realise she had read a whole page and not taken in a word because she was wondering about Lucy, lost in Fairyland, which suddenly didn't seem like the cosy place it was in Enid Blyton's books. She kept finding herself gazing randomly round the room. From the window to the floorboards, up along the wall, along the wardrobe, up to the ceiling… She found herself gazing at a pair of eyes peeping over the top of the wardrobe... very large, green eyes. For a moment she just stared, as if hypnotised, then she screamed and ran out of the room, banging the door behind her, and went running downstairs, still screaming, to where her mother was just coming through the door, her face screwed up in terror.

  Upstairs in the bedroom, the fairy lay wedged between the back of the wardrobe and the wall, its tiny flanks heaving, making small whimpering noises.

  “Is it Lucy?” her mother cried. “Have you found Lucy?” (Lucy lying dead somewhere in some corner of the house they had failed to search). June shook her head, and her mother held her tightly, feeling weak with relief. Let them find her, she thought. But not dead. Please not dead.

  June had stopped screaming and now she was crying in huge, choking sobs. “It's all my fault, I should have stopped her.”

  Mum held her a little away, so she could see her face. “Stopped her doing what?”

  “Fairyland,” June cried. “I should have stopped her going into Fairyland. I was right there beside her and I just let her walk in.”

  Monica Wainwright was not a fool, but she was at the end of her tether, unable to think straight in her terror for her daughter, and ready to believe anything. “Tell me,” she said.

  By now the whole neighbourhood was out scouring the countryside. It was like on the television news; policemen holding hands and walking over the fields. June could see them through the window. It was no use, of course. They were never going to find Lucy, not out there.

  “I'm just going to call Dad,” Mum said.

  ****

  Ben Wainwright was up in Johnson's top field when the phone rang. He was feeling what his eldest daughter would call 'spaced-out'. Everything that had happened today from when Monica called him at work seemed unreal. The frantic, vain searching of the house, ringing everyone they could think of, including Granny McCurdle, who was right at this moment driving over, the police coming to interview them, Monica in tears, her face red and puffy. He had come out with the searchers because that is what you did if your child was missing. You joined the search. But he didn't believe it, not really. If they found her in the fields, it would be her dead body they found, wouldn't it? That's what these people were expecting, the policemen and his neighbours. They were looking for her dead body. And that couldn't be right. Lucy couldn't be dead. He had seen her this very breakfast time, arguing over which cereal she could have. Anyway, it was the wrong weather. How could you be looking for the dead body of a child on a glorious sunny day like this? It should be dank and dismal, drizzling grey rain.

  The phone continued to ring and he stared at it in mute horror, suddenly terrified to answer. Afraid it would be bad news. Then he pressed the button and put the phone to his ear. “Yes?”

  It was Monica. “Ben, can you come home? June thinks she knows where Lucy is.”

  “What? Where?”

  “I can't explain over the phone. It's too complicated. Just come.”

  He almost dropped the phone, his fingers fumb
ling to find the right button. But he managed to end the call and stuff it in his pocket. Then he turned and ran hell for leather back to the house, unaware that all the other searchers had stopped to stare at him and that one of the policemen was on the radio to headquarters. After a moment, the policeman signed off, clipped the radio to his belt and began to follow in a more leisurely fashion.

  ****

  “OK,” Mum said. “Let's go and have a look.” And she started up the stairs. June held back, reluctant to go back to the strange place her bedroom had become. Mum opened the bedroom door and instantly something small and green shot through it and flashed past her and down the stairs, brushing against June as it went. She shrank back with a small mew of disgust.

  “What in Heaven's name was that?” Mum was standing outside the bedroom door, clutching her chest. Her face had gone white underneath the red puffiness, giving her a livid, mottled look.

  “It's a fairy,” said June.

  Mum looked down the stairs where the creature had run. “I don't think so,” she said thoughtfully. “No, I don't think so at all.”

  Then she pulled herself together, beckoned to June, and together they went into the bedroom.

  ****

  The front door was open when Ben got home and there was no sign of anyone. He glanced into the front room and the kitchen, then stood indecisively in the hall. He had run all the way and was panting hard, which probably accounts for why he didn't hear the scuffling noises.

  “Up here,” Monica called from the girls' room, and he made his way up the stairs.

  He hesitated in the doorway. Monica and June were sitting on Lucy's bed staring at the wall. His heart skipped a beat. It was exactly the way Lucy sat during her episodes of petit mal.