Philippa Fisher and the Dream-Maker's Daughter

  I snuggled into the cushions, and she sat on the edge of her bed. “Can I really tell you what I know?” she asked me. “You won’t make fun of me?”

  “Of course I won’t make fun of you!” I said. “I believe it, too.” I wanted to tell her about Daisy, to prove that she could trust me. But it felt too risky. Not now. Not while she was trapped upstairs in a jar, running out of air. I shuddered. No, I couldn’t think about that now. I’d find her. I’d save her. She’d be OK. Everything would be fine; I’d make sure of it.

  Robyn’s eyes shone with excitement. “Well, it was a couple of years ago. I didn’t know what it was at the time. I was in the woods with Mom. We used to go for walks together.”

  She stopped and swallowed. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s hard to — you know, especially at the moment. With it being so close to the anniversary, she’s been on my mind even more than ever.”

  “It’s OK,” I said softly, wishing I could think of something more useful to say.

  Robyn took a breath and nodded, as though making a deal with herself. “Anyway. So I saw something in the woods. I thought it was a rare bird at first. I only saw it from a distance. I pointed at it and asked Mom what it was. She’s really good at birds.” Robyn caught herself. “She was, I mean,” she added.

  “Go on.”

  “Mom said she couldn’t see anything. She said I must have imagined it. And then she said we should take a different route, because the way we were going had a lot of prickers up ahead. She took my hand and walked us off in another direction, talking to me nonstop all the way. It was like she wanted to distract me.”

  I couldn’t help feeling disappointed. That was it? A rare bird that she’d seen in the distance?

  “But I glanced back over my shoulder while she wasn’t looking,” Robyn went on quickly. “Then I saw that it wasn’t a bird at all. Whatever it was, it came to land in a clearing. It was way bigger than a bird! It had wings, but they sparkled and crackled like fireworks as it landed! It was a fairy, Philippa. I know it was. I saw it with my own eyes!”

  “What did your mom say?”

  “I grabbed her arm and tried to get her to turn around, but she started running ahead. ‘Race you to the oak tree,’ she said. That was what we always did. It was our favorite tree in the forest. I tried to stop her, call her back, but it was as if she didn’t want to know — or didn’t want me to know. So I let it go.”

  “You didn’t mention it again?”

  Robyn shook her head. “I could tell the subject was off-limits. That’s how it was with my mom sometimes. If she didn’t want to talk about something, there was nothing you could do. She closed up like a book.”

  I thought Robyn was a bit similar in that way. I didn’t say anything, though.

  “We’ve got some books in the shop about fairies,” Robyn said. “They’ve got lots of pictures. One of them had a picture that looked just like what I saw. That was when I knew for sure.”

  I suddenly had a thought. She’d given me an opportunity. “Why don’t you get the books?” I said. “We could look at them together if you like.”

  “Really? You want to?”

  “Sure,” I said, hoping I was managing to disguise the quiver in my voice. This would probably be the only chance I’d get, and I couldn’t afford to mess it up.

  Robyn jumped up off the bed. “OK, I’ll get them now. Back in a sec.”

  “Get them all!” I said, hoping that would mean she’d have to spend some time rummaging around.

  She smiled. “Do you want to help me look for them?”

  “I don’t know where they are,” I said quickly. “Anyway, it’s so nice snuggled up against your radiator! I’ll wait here. Is that OK?”

  “Of course,” she said, heading for the stairs. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

  The moment I heard her feet on the stairs, I was up. I waited till I heard the bookshop door close behind her, then I darted across the landing and up the dark staircase. Please be open, please be open, I muttered as I approached the door. It was an old-fashioned brass knob. I turned it. Nothing. Don’t be locked — please!

  I tried it the other way. Locked. No! I looked all around me for something that might help. There was a ledge running along the top of the door. Just out of reach. I stood on tiptoe and jumped up, grabbing at the shelf. There was something there — I could feel it.

  I jumped up again, trying to grab whatever was there. Just missed it. One more try. I jumped up, swiping my hand across the shelf — and I got it! Something fell to the floor. I reached down and grabbed it. The key!

  My hands shook as I slotted the key into the hole and turned it.

  I pushed the door, and it opened easily. I was in! My heart was thumping so loud Robyn could probably hear it from downstairs.

  Keep calm, keep calm. I took a deep breath.

  The office was dark. A small window might have let in some light except that it was behind the huge desk, which was piled so high with books and papers they blocked half of it. I could hardly see. I didn’t dare put the light on, though. I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself.

  There was a cupboard in the corner. That must be it. I crept over to it and carefully pulled at the door, wincing as it squeaked open. More papers, more books. Old folders that looked as though they hadn’t been touched for years. But no jar.

  Where was she?

  I had to find her before Robyn came back. Daisy, where are you? I whispered to the silent room. I listened for a response of some sort. Anything! But there was nothing.

  Searching around, my eyes fell on a shoe box on top of a pile of books. Could she be in there? I tore it open. More papers.

  Where was she? Spinning around, I spotted a filing cabinet behind the door. How had I missed it? I pulled at the top drawer. It slid open. Rows and rows of folders. No jar. I grabbed at the second drawer. Nothing. Kneeling down, I slid open the bottom drawer — and there it was! The jar!

  “Daisy!” I cried. I lifted the jar as carefully as I could. I was right. There she was inside, lying limp and lifeless at the bottom of the jar. Please don’t be dead. You can’t be dead!

  I opened the jar — and the butterfly crawled along the bottom, slipping and limping. I turned the jar on its side. “Come on, Daisy. You need to get out!” I whispered.

  She crawled along the side, edging her way to the top. As soon as she was out in the air, her wings fluttered gently. “Right. Let’s get you out of here,” I said, holding out my palm so she could crawl onto my hand. But she didn’t. She fluttered feebly and flew haltingly back into the drawer.

  “Daisy, what are you doing? We’ve got to get out of here!” I said. I went to pick her up, but she hopped around on the bottom of the drawer. It was as though she were trying to tell me something. “What? What is it?” I asked urgently. I looked where she was hopping. The bottom of the drawer was covered in something — it looked kind of like the colored sand you could use in art projects.

  “What is it?” I asked. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  She stopped still in the middle of the sand, feebly batting her wings. It looked like the kind of sand Charlotte and I used to pour into a bottle to make a rainbow.

  Rainbow sand? I looked again. Yes, it was multicolored, like the rainbow of colors that explode around Daisy when she transforms into a fairy. Could it be . . .

  “Is this the dream dust?” I asked. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

  Her wings slowly beat together. Yes.

  “What about it? You want me to take it?”

  Again, the wings came together, applauding me. I’d read her mind correctly. Despite everything, I was glad for that. It proved something to me. But I didn’t have time to stand around congratulating myself. I had to get out of there — and I had to take some dream dust with me.

  I glanced around for something to collect it with. There was a box of tissues on the desk. I stretched across and grabbed a handful. Carefully wiping the dream dust into a t
issue, I folded it over, put it in my pocket, and reached over to the desk to put the box back.

  I was about to turn back to the filing cabinet to get Daisy and get the heck out of there when I noticed something on the desk that made me go so cold it felt as if my skin had turned inside out.

  A picture frame. A photograph of a smiling woman. I grabbed the picture and stood holding it in my hand, frozen to the spot. No! It couldn’t be!

  I stared and stared at the picture. There must be a mistake. The photograph — it wasn’t possible!

  “What are you doing?” Robyn was in the doorway.

  I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. I kept on staring at the photo.

  She took a step into the room. “Philippa, what on earth are you doing in here? In my dad’s private office?”

  I tore my eyes away from the photograph to glance at her. She had a stack of books under her arm. The fairy books.

  “Robyn, I —” What could I say? There was nothing at all I could say.

  “What have you got in your hand?” she asked, taking a step toward me.

  “Robyn — who is this?” I asked eventually, holding the picture out for her to see. “Who’s this woman?”

  “Who is she?” Robyn spat. “This woman happens to be my mom. How dare you come in here without permission and go through my dad’s things!”

  She snatched the photo from me.

  “Your —?” I gasped, almost choking on the words. “Your mom? Are you sure?”

  Robyn looked at me with utter scorn on her face. “Am I sure?” she asked. “What?”

  “But — but it’s — but she’s —” I couldn’t get the words out — but I had to. If I heard myself say them out loud, perhaps somehow I’d understand.

  “She’s what?”

  “She — I’ve been having strange dreams since I got here. There was a woman in them — and it’s her!”

  Robyn looked at me as though she were looking at a piece of dirt.

  “That’s not funny, Philippa. Get out,” she said calmly.

  “Wait! Wait — listen to me. Hear me out,” I said.

  She folded her arms. “You’ve got five minutes. Then I want you to leave.”

  Five minutes. Right. I just had to gather my thoughts — those that were at least vaguely within reach of adding up in my mind.

  It was no use. I couldn’t — they were too scattered. I was just going to have to tell her everything and hope for the best. I only had five minutes — and I’d used up the first one trying to figure out where to begin.

  “I’ve been having strange dreams since I got here. I don’t know why, and I don’t understand what I was dreaming about. All I know is that I was trying to reach someone. There was a light, and a woman, and I had to get to her. Each time I had the dream, I woke up crying, feeling lost and lonely and so awful.”

  Robyn shifted uncomfortably as I spoke. Something seemed to flash across her face, but I couldn’t tell what it was. Then her eyes hardened.

  “Go on,” she said, her voice brittle and sharp.

  “It was the woman in the picture,” I said. “I know it was her. Robyn, I dreamed about your mom.”

  I watched her face as I spoke. She seemed to be softening. I pushed on while I could see the doubt in her eyes. Please forgive me, Daisy, but I need to tell. It’s OK. Robyn believes. You can trust her. It’ll be OK.

  “The other night, my best friend came to see me —”

  “Your best friend?” Robyn interrupted. “I thought you didn’t have one. I thought they’d both moved away.”

  “I know. I — look, bear with me for now, OK?”

  Robyn sniffed and indicated for me to go on.

  “She found something in my room, and she took it away, but before she could get back to ATC, she —”

  “To what?” Robyn interrupted.

  “It doesn’t matter. The point is, she was captured by your dad. He —”

  “What?” Robyn burst out laughing. “Captured by my dad? What do you think this is, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?”

  “Robyn, I’m going to tell you something now, and you have to believe me.”

  “I don’t have to do anything!” Robyn snapped. She looked at her watch. “You’ve got one more minute. And I can tell you, so far you haven’t said anything to convince me not to throw you out and never see you again.”

  “Look, she’s a fairy, all right?” I spoke quickly. “She’s a fairy. My best friend. She’s a fairy godmother. She gave me three wishes last time when she was a daisy, and now she’s on a new assignment and she’s a butterfly. And your dad trapped her in a jar.”

  For a moment, Robyn looked as though she believed me. Then she said, “So where is she now, your fairy godmother?” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  “She’s in here!” I turned to the filing cabinet. “This is where he trapped her. I let her out of the jar. She’s in the drawer. Look, I’ll prove it.”

  All I had to do was show her Daisy. Robyn would have to believe me then! Especially after what she’d told me, about seeing all the flashing lights and crackling colors. That was exactly what happened when Daisy transformed into a fairy.

  I knelt down and looked in the drawer. Where was she? I looked in the other drawer, on the desk behind me, all over the floor. Nothing. Nothing.

  I looked at Robyn; she stared back at me with cold, disbelieving eyes. Holding the jar uselessly in my hand, I faced up to the awful truth.

  Daisy wasn’t there.

  “You were saying?” Robyn’s voice was full of needles. I hadn’t heard her sound like that before. She could clearly switch into a furious mood as easily as her dad.

  “She was here a minute ago,” I said. “Honestly. You’ve got to believe me.”

  “Actually, I was about to, but I stopped myself just in time,” she said. Her voice had changed. It sounded more sad than angry.

  Please believe me, Robyn. Don’t send me home without Daisy. I’ve got to find her. I’ve got to rescue her!

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I mean you were about to make a complete fool out of me. But I’m not going to let you.”

  “No! It’s not like that. I —”

  “I trusted you,” she said, cutting across me as if I weren’t even there. “I told you things I’ve never said to anyone before. I told you I believed in fairies. I only said that because you said you believed, too.”

  “I do believe, too. That’s what I’m trying to tell you, if you’ll just —”

  “And what do I get for my silly, stupid, childish trust in you? You just throw it right back at me, so you can make me look like an idiot.”

  “Robyn, please, I’m not trying to make you look like an idiot. It’s true!”

  “What? That your best friend is a fairy — oh, sorry, I mean a butterfly? And one minute you haven’t seen her forever and the next she comes to visit you on your vacation? And she’s here in this room, except — oops, no, she isn’t, actually? What kind of person other than a complete and utter fool would believe something as far-fetched as that?”

  When she put it like that, I had to admit it did sound a little crazy.

  “I know how it sounds,” I said. “But it’s true. And she’s in trouble. Your dad really did capture her.”

  “Oh, yes — my dad. How handy! Just because you saw him in a bad mood the other day, you think you can turn me against him? You don’t know him! You don’t know what he’s really like. I told you that the other day. Don’t try to make him out to be some kind of monster. And don’t try to turn me against him!”

  “I’m not trying to turn you against him,” I pleaded. “He took her! He put her in this jar! Why else would it be here?”

  “Search me,” Robyn said. “Who’s to say you didn’t plant it there yourself while you were snooping around? In fact, while we’re on the subject, he told me the real reason why you went home yesterday. He hadn’t seen your parents at all, had he?”

  I hung my head. What could I sa
y? She wasn’t going to believe me.

  “He caught you snooping around, didn’t he? I told him he must have been mistaken. I said you wouldn’t do something like that. I managed to persuade him to let me see you again. I told him I knew I’d only met you a few days ago, but it felt like we’d known each other for ages. Felt like we really knew each other, understood each other, trusted each other.” She threw her head back and laughed, her hair falling over her eyes. “How wrong and stupid could I be!”

  “You’re not wrong or stupid,” I said limply. I was running out of answers. It seemed there was nothing I could say that would make her believe me. “Look, I can see it looks bad. But it isn’t. Honestly. I am what I seem, what you thought I was. You can trust me, I promise.”

  She shook her head. “Sorry, but actually I can’t. I can’t trust you at all. Dad caught you snooping around yesterday, and I’ve just walked in on you doing exactly the same! I don’t know what your game is, but it’s ‘game over’ now.”

  “What do you mean? It’s not a game!”

  “Not anymore. I want you to go. And this time, don’t waste your time coming back, OK? At all!”

  She couldn’t send me away now! I hadn’t found Daisy! I had to convince her. “Look, please, Robyn. Don’t send me away. Just help me look for Daisy. If we find her, I can prove everything.”

  “If we find her!” she snapped. “I tell you what — my dad was right about them all along.”

  “Right about what?”

  “Butterflies. Vermin, he calls them. Ever since he smashed up that stupid butterfly house. I tried to tell him they’re beautiful, magical creatures, but he wasn’t having any of it. Well, neither am I anymore. I hope I do find your stupid butterfly. I’ll stuff it back in that jar and throw it out myself.”

  What could I do? I was never going to get her to change her mind.

  “I’ll go and get my things,” I said, and I headed back down the stairs.

  “Yeah, you do that,” Robyn said.

  I went back to her bedroom to get my bag and shoved my hands in my pockets as I headed for the door. My fingers curled around the tissue in my pocket. That was when I had an idea.