The Night Rainbow A Novel - By Claire King Page 0,47
we have got to find some more lucky leaves. We need to do our wishes quickly before the grownups do all their wrong decisions. We can get one for every wish we have to have. Come on, hurry up.
We go as fast as we can with my still-sore foot, down past the donkeys, and tumble down into the patch of clover where we fall on to our tummies, nose to nose with the flowers. Margot checks every stalk. She runs her fingers through the patch of clover, one by one by one. She is very delicate with the leaves, skimming her fingertips through them; they hardly move. Margot is good at this game. But today she is not doing a good job. It’s like a needle in a haystack, she says.
We look for a long time but don’t find a single wish. I am starting to worry that my bridesmaid’s dress will be blue or another awful colour, or that my present will be something I don’t like, like socks, or exercise books with lined pages.
OK, come on, Pea, says Margot, it’s not our day for wishes. But I’ve got something to show you.
What is it? I say.
You’ll have to wait and see.
Tell me!
I haven’t decided yet, but it’s good . . .
So we skip further down towards the stream.
Here! she shouts at last.
What is it?
This, says Margot, holding her head up high and sweeping her hand around, showing me a tree stump and a fallen silver birch tree, some grass and a patch of dandelions. This is where the fairies live.
Really? Fairies? What are they like?
Come and have a look, says Margot. The fairies are small, like small daisies. They have yellow dresses or green dresses so you can’t see them so well. That is called camouflage and it is to stop them getting eaten by bigger creatures like spiders and lizards. But also it means you have to be careful where you tread here. It would be best not to walk on this part at all. Also, she says, they are extremely beautiful. They have red hair that falls like a curtain down their backs and they have eyes like mini-kaleidoscopes, blue and green and sparkling. They are kind and they cook good things and they are always smiling.
Do they sing? I ask.
They sing all the time, says Margot. Can’t you hear them?
I can hear cuckoos and doves and sparrows. There is even a golden oriole. I have never seen one of those, because they are shy, but I know what song they sing because Maman told me. I can’t hear any fairies, though.
OK, says Margot, hold out your hands. She has her hands closed together like a box, like she has something inside for me.
I hold mine out, together, so she can give it to me.
Here, says Margot, as she empties her hands into mine. A fairy. Be gentle!
I close my hands. I can feel the fairy against my palms, light and ticklish and white.
She wants to come and stay in the girl-nest, says Margot.
Really?
Yes, she’s a nest-fairy. She’s been waiting for it for a long time.
It is very hard to cross the stepping stones with my hands cupped together, even though my hands haven’t got anything to do with my feet.
Can’t she ride on my shoulders? I ask, but Margot says no. So I decide to walk through the stream like Claude does and get my sandals soaked in the cold water. I will have to hide them from Maman until they are all dried out. It feels so good on my hot feet, though, and I now wonder why we bother with stepping stones at all.
I am very busy organising the girl-nest. The fairy has got a new bed in the biscuit tin, which is where she would like to live, and I have made room for it by moving around some of the specimens and treasures. Also we have done some wiping and tidying up of leaves, so the nest is spick and span, now that we have a visitor. I am sitting doing some thinking about the argument at our house this morning, when there is a rustling below and I peep out over the top. Merlin is sitting in the shade, wagging his tail. Every wag makes a swooshing noise; he would be no good at hide and seek.
Hello, Merlin! I shout. There’s a fairy come to live in our nest! I can’t see Claude. Claude! I shout down.