‘How was I supposed to know that it’s wrong to speak to someone else who can see fairies?’ Tanya said, remembering to keep her voice low just in time. Indignation had chased away her fear and lent her courage. ‘I’ve never met anyone else who can before!’ She glared at the three of them. ‘Why is it even wrong at all?’
Feathercap, the third fairy, stepped forward. ‘It’s wrong,’ he hissed, ‘because the less you know about us, the better.’
‘Better for you, you mean?’ Tanya retaliated.
Gredin’s golden eyes glinted meanly, and Tanya knew she was straying into dangerous territory. ‘Careful,’ he said slowly. ‘Be very careful.’
Tanya lowered her eyes and said nothing, but beneath the covers her fists were clenched as tightly as her jaw. It wasn’t fair. How dare they bully her like this?
‘How did you even find me here?’ she asked.
‘We can find you anywhere,’ Feathercap replied. ‘No matter how far from home you are. ‘We’re always watching.’
In the silence that followed, she caught another snuffling sound from under the bed. It sounded a bit like Oberon when he was eating his dinner – but Oberon wasn’t in the room. The snuffle became a gulp, then was followed by a swallow.
‘Feathercap, will you please see what that blasted creature is up to?’ Gredin said irritably.
Feathercap gave a stroppy sigh, but hopped off the bed and vanished underneath it.
‘You won’t be punished,’ Raven said softly. ‘Not this time anyway.’
Gredin made a noise of impatience. ‘How else will she learn?’
‘She did not know.’ Raven’s voice took on a steely tone. She looked away from Gredin to Tanya. ‘But now you do. You’re not to speak to that boy about us, or any other fairies, ever again.’
‘But I can still speak to him about other things?’ Tanya said stubbornly.
Raven’s voice was curt. ‘It would be better if you didn’t, but yes. You may, if you really must.’
Feathercap returned at that moment. For once, Tanya was glad of the interruption. The fewer rules the fairies laid out, the better. Behind him flew a strange little creature, something halfway between a hedgehog and a piglet. It looked moth-eaten and miserable, and landed clumsily on the bed, its ragged wings struggling to keep it up in the air.
‘It was eating a spider,’ Feathercap said, his face twisted in disgust. ‘Must have sniffed it out as soon as we arrived.’
Tanya shuddered. She didn’t mind the Mizhog much, for it never spoke or did anything unkind to her, unlike the others. It just seemed to accompany them rather like a pet, watching everything that went on with its large, gloomy brown eyes. It did, however, have a revolting diet and habits to match. As well as spiders, the Mizhog was fond of gobbling up slugs, snails, worms and woodlice. It was never quiet or discreet about it, either. Every squish, squelch, chomp and chew was plain to hear, and the remains of its grisly meals usually glistened on its whiskers for some time afterwards. It was also full of fleas and constantly scratching and licking itself.
It regarded her now, hiccuping occasionally. Something long and thin that looked suspiciously like a spider’s leg dangled from its snout. Tanya looked away as her stomach gave a lurch.
Thankfully, the fairies chose that moment to leave. As usual, their departure was swift, with no goodbyes. A simple, ‘Remember – we’ll be watching,’ was all she heard from Gredin as he leaped on to the window ledge, soon followed by Feathercap. Raven transformed once more, spreading her black wings wide and gliding to the window. As always, the Mizhog was last to depart, its hurried flaps all the more clumsy-looking compared to the grace of the creature before it. Then they were gone and Tanya could finally release the breath she had been holding on to.
She lay back in bed, willing her heart to slow. The fairies’ visits normally meant bad news and a pickle she couldn’t explain her way out of. It was rare, very rare, for her to escape without punishment as she had tonight, but, even so, she could not count it as a victory. They hadn’t punished her, but the threat of it was still there if she spoke to Ratty again – and how could she avoid speaking about fairies to the only other person she knew who could see them?
She was wide awake now and too warm. Kicking the sheets off, she squeezed her eyes shut, wishing for sleep and morning to come. When she finally began to doze off again, it was not peaceful, for she dreamed her eyelids were still twitching and could smell that giveaway, leaf-mulch smell of fairies. Somehow, she pushed these things to the back of her mind, allowing sleep to pull her further in until she was aware of nothing.
It was not the clattering of the breakfast things that woke her, or even the sound of Oberon scratching at the bedroom door. Nor was it the sunshine streaming in on her face, the promise of another fine, scorching day ahead. Instead, Tanya woke to the unpleasant feeling of a drip sliding down her cheek. Her eyes snapped open.
Sweat. She was covered in it. At some point during the night she must have pulled the covers back over herself, but now she was unbearably hot. She turned to look at the clock on the bedside table and squealed. An ugly china doll with a chipped face and a green velvet dress stared back at her. It looked very old and there was a yellowed piece of paper pinned to it which said: EMILLIES DOLL.
Tanya frowned. Emily’s doll? Who was Emily? A little girl who’d lived here once? Where had the doll come from?
She tried to throw the bedclothes off – but found she couldn’t.
‘What—?’ she whispered.
Her arms and legs were pinned tightly to her sides, unable to move. For a moment, she thought she must have rolled herself into a cocoon of sheets, but they held fast, not giving an inch. Not only that, but her pyjamas felt . . . odd, like her hands and feet were trapped. She wriggled a hand out from under the bedclothes, then froze in shock.
Her pale blue pyjama sleeve had been sewn together at the cuff, trapping her hand inside. The stitches had been made in horrid brown wool and were ugly and frenzied, like a mad dressmaker had been sewing as if their life depended on it. She wriggled her toes and her other hand. All of them had been tightly sewn in.
In despair, she remembered the twitching in her eyelids as she had fallen back to sleep. She
hadn’t
been dreaming it. This had to be the work of the fairies – though normally they stayed to watch her reaction to their punishments. Yet that didn’t make sense; not after they’d made a point of telling her she wouldn’t be punished this time. By now, however, Tanya knew better than to question why they treated her the way they did. It was a mystery, especially if what Ratty had said about them being guardians was true.
For now, it didn’t matter why they had done it. The important thing was to get out of this mess before her mother came in and saw her. She tried again to pull the covers back, but again they would not budge. Only then did Tanya realise that things were much worse than she’d originally thought. She twisted her head to the side to find more crazed brown stitches, this time securing the blankets to the sheet underneath her. Not only had she been sewn into her nightclothes, she’d been completely sewn into the bed.
A panicky feeling rose in her chest. She forced it down, fighting to stay calm and think. Her hands – she had to get her hands free first. Luckily, her pyjamas were made of thin material and she could still grip things through it easily enough. She attempted to lift the pyjamas off over her head, only now there was another problem. They were stuck, too, because the top had been sewn to the trousers. She gave a low growl of frustration. There was only one thing for it. She brought her sleeve to her mouth and bit into the brown wool.
She gagged instantly. It tasted disgusting: damp and mildewy, like it had been forgotten in a cupboard for about a hundred years. The rough texture of it scratching against her teeth was almost as bad, but she had no choice except to gnaw and nibble at it until it broke. Eventually, it did and she was able to pull at the wool with her teeth until the stitches unravelled and her hand was free.
Immediately, she tried to unpick the other sleeve with her fingernails, but there was no obvious knot where the stitches had been tied off. She was forced again to chew her way through it, while trying not to imagine where the wool might have come from. Finally, both hands were free.
She bit back a shriek at a sudden knock at the door.
‘Tanya?’ her mother called. ‘Are you up yet?’
‘I’m awake,’ she spluttered, praying her mother wouldn’t come in. Thankfully, the door stayed closed, but the delicious smell of frying bacon had started to waft under it.
‘Breakfast in five minutes,’ Mrs Fairchild said.
‘Coming!’ Tanya called desperately. She waited until her mother’s footsteps moved away from the door, then started to wriggle, caterpillar-like, up and out of the bedclothes. It was harder than she had imagined it would be, for the covers were sewn so tightly there was barely room to move at all.
It’s a wonder I didn’t suffocate
, she thought. Her anger lent her strength. A minute passed, then another. She was almost waist-high out of the sheets. From the kitchen, her mother called her again.
She wriggled harder, sweat making the sheets and her pyjamas stick to her skin. At last, her hips were free, and she was able to pull herself up and slide her legs out.
A sneaky laugh from somewhere in the room made her breath catch in her throat. She glanced about fearfully. Where had it come from?
Only then did she see what else had been left for her.
A series of large, brown woolly letters had been stitched across the beautiful lemon bedding, ruining it. Dazed, Tanya slid off the bed and crept sideways to see it better. Though the spelling was terrible, the message was unmistakable:
LEEVE THIS HOWSE
Leave this house.
Of course. This
wasn’t
the work of the four fairies who had visited in the night after all. They had kept true to their word. No, Tanya realised. This – and the horrible doll – was the work of whatever it was that lurked under the floorboards and was in the room with her now, chuckling slyly from some unseen nook or cranny.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked in a furious whisper.
The chuckling stopped and a low muttering began. ‘Leave this house,’ it chanted. ‘Leave this house, leave this house . . .’
‘Tanya!’ Her mother rapped on the door, startling her. ‘I’m not calling you again – you can eat it cold!’
And then the doorknob turned and the door began to open.
7
A Jar of Odds and Ends
T
ANYA DID THE ONLY THING SHE COULD think of. She grabbed the pillow from behind her and threw it over the ugly brown lettering on the bed to hide it. It worked, with not a moment to spare. Her mother stood at the door, tapping her foot with impatience.
‘You should be up and dressed by now, young lady.’
‘Sorry,’ Tanya muttered. She was well aware that the ankles of her pyjamas were still sewn together and that the top was still attached to the bottoms. She held her mother’s gaze, hoping she wouldn’t notice. ‘I’m coming right now.’
Luckily, her mother was too busy looking at the doll. ‘Where did that ghastly thing come from?’
‘Oh . . . I found it. In a cupboard. I thought it was . . . sweet.’
Mrs Fairchild shuddered. ‘It’s creepy, if you ask me. Anyway, hurry up.’
Tanya nodded, watching as her mother retreated. Once she was out of sight, Tanya hobbled to the bathroom and locked the door behind her, rummaging through her mother’s toiletry bag. Finally, she found what she was searching for: a small pair of nail scissors. She set to work, snipping at the wool. To her dismay, it was so thick that it left noticeable holes in her pyjamas, but there was nothing she could do about that except hope that her mother wouldn’t notice.
Fat chance
, she thought miserably, replacing the scissors and dumping the wool in the bin. She hurried back to the bedroom and threw the wardrobe open, ready to grab the first thing she found – but there was another shock in store.
All of her clothes had been ripped from the hangers and were strewn at the bottom of the wardrobe. She knelt down and picked up a crumpled dress, gasping sharply. The arms, neck and even the hem had all been sewn together in the same horrid brown wool. Her hand shaking, she dropped the dress and picked up her favourite jeans. Once again, the waist and ankles were tightly stitched. There was no way into them except to unpick the wool. She turned over garment after garment. Every one was the same.
Angry tears stung her eyes. She gulped them back and went to the chest of drawers, pulling it open. Once again, everything inside had been rummaged through, sewn up and savagely thrown back in. There was not a single piece of clothing untouched, not even a sock. The vicious little beast must have been sewing practically all night.
Tanya closed the door quietly and wiped her eyes. She wouldn’t let it see her cry. The only thing she had to wear was what she stood in now: her pyjamas. Her mother wouldn’t like that, but it was better than delaying any longer. She pulled a comb through her hair quickly and hurried to the breakfast table, ready for another scolding. Her mother gave a disapproving sniff, but said nothing as she buttered her toast.
They ate in silence, Tanya avoiding her mother’s eyes. The food was lukewarm now, but it did at least take the unpleasant taste of the damp wool from Tanya’s mouth. Even so, she was unable to enjoy a single mouthful. All she could think of was the work set out for her when she returned to her room. It was going to be a long morning and hers would be spent unpicking stitches.
By midday Tanya had cheered up a little. After helping to wash up and clear the breakfast things, which had softened her mother’s mood, she’d hidden the horrible china doll under the bed, then managed to snip at the stitches in the bedding and most of her sewn-up clothes and return them to normal. Well, almost. Like her pyjamas, some of her things now had permanent holes in from the thickness of the wool. She had wondered how the fairy had even managed to pull the wool through some of the items, but, upon closer inspection, it looked as though the holes had been bitten. It really had gone to a lot of trouble. She’d still had a drawer of things left to do when her mother called her from the room, suggesting they use the rest of the morning to explore the castle together.