Chapter Forty-Six
Alexandra Park Road to Highgate
I
n the week before Christmas Edie asked Mum if she could take Granny Agata out in her wheelchair. She had invited Charlie over to help her.
‘We’re taking her to see the Christmas lights,’ Edie said, packing a thick blanket.
They took the bus from Alexandra Palace, asking the driver to lower the ramp so that they could push Granny Agata on board. It was packed with Christmas shoppers. As the bus slowly climbed the hill up towards Highgate Station, Edie felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned round and it was Naz. Edie instinctively looked beyond her towards the back of the bus expecting to see the sarcastic faces of Linny and the other girls.
‘It’s all right. They’re not here,’ said Naz. ‘It’s just me.’
She was wearing a plain hoodie and trainers, and the spangled top she had worn at the beginning of Year Seven to copy Linny had disappeared.
‘Where are you going?’ said Naz.
‘Just to see some Christmas lights,’ said Edie. She tried to sound casual and disinterested, but her voice felt tight and small again.
‘Sounds brilliant,’ said Naz.
‘Why don’t you come with us?’ said Granny Agata.
Edie stared at her grandmother. The last thing she wanted was someone from school coming along, someone who she couldn’t yet be certain wouldn’t spread mean stories about her and make her life a misery.
‘OK. Thanks. I’d like that,’ said Naz.
Edie looked down.
‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it, Edie?’ said Granny Agata.
‘So where is Linny?’ Edie asked.
‘Don’t know,’ said Naz. ‘We don’t really see each other outside school.’
‘Why not?’ said Edie. She tried to keep the surprise out of her voice.
‘I realised that I didn’t really like her any more.’
‘And the other girls?’
‘I never really liked them in the first place. I want us to be friends again, Edie. I tried to tell you earlier, but you didn’t want to know.’
Edie knew this was true. She had been so preoccupied with Impy and the flits that there hadn’t been room for Naz too.
*
They pushed the wheelchair down the hill from the Highgate Road to the station car park.
‘Where are we going?’ said Naz.
Edie said nothing and just concentrated on pushing the wheelchair between the gap in the hedge and through the undergrowth, wrestling with it as the dry winter sticks caught in the wheels. They heaved it through into the open space, their breath frosting up in the chilly afternoon air. A startled bird suddenly darted out of a bush in front of them. Edie jumped, casting around to see if Shadwell was perched on a rooftop nearby, but the rooftops were deserted and the bird was only small and frightened like any ordinary London bird would be.
The street lights up on the Highgate Road lit up the old station in front of them. It was still completely intact, like a giant-sized model station on a Hornby railway set.
‘What a fabulous secret place, Edie,’ said Granny Agata.
‘It’s amazing!’ said Naz. ‘A whole station hidden away like this.’
Charlie and Edie managed to manoeuvre Granny Agata up onto the platform and wheel her along its smooth surface to the north end.
‘Wait here with Gran,’ said Edie to Naz. ‘I promise we won’t be long.’ She and Charlie dropped down into the spiky winter brambles that covered the old track bed and pushed their way through to the huge north wall that supported the old tunnels.
Edie took a few steps towards the bank – the Hillside Camp. For a moment she couldn’t see anything. It seemed to be in darkness. A bubble of panic rose up inside her. Perhaps the magpins had returned, or the flits had deserted the camp?
‘Impy . . . ? Nid? It’s us . . . Edie and Charlie.’
Still nothing, and then one by one tiny pinpricks of light appeared and began to move around, zigzagging here and there. Edie felt a fluttering in front of her nose, followed by a sharp tug on her ear lobe.
‘Impy!’
Edie lifted her hand up to her ear and felt Impy step onto it and wrap her arms round her thumb. ‘I thought you’d never come.’
Then she called into the darkness, ‘All clear!’ and pulled at Edie’s thumb to lead her forward.
Edie and Charlie followed her and the bank lit up in front of them. A long string of lights fastened between two aluminium cans hung over the terraces, revealing rows of patched-up and restored houses. New walls had been constructed out of packaging and juice cartons, beams from lolly sticks, roofs from old teacups and rubber shoe soles, and one entire house was made from a family-size Marmite pot lying on its side.
The flits gathered on the walkways or appeared in windows and doorways.
Impy tugged at her thumb and led her to a house at the end of one of the terraces. The front was covered by a square of canvas and strung with paper clips and Impy drew it back.
Nid jumped up and cartwheeled towards them and Jot and Speckle showed them Elfin’s needle proudly displayed on the wall. Flum was perched alongside the wooden doll’s-house cradle Edie had bought from Ada’s charity shop. The cradle emitted a high-pitched wail.
Edie’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Of course.’
Inside the cradle, on a bed of cotton wool, was a tiny flit – its hair a miniscule tuft of fluff, its legs and arms like pins and its wings folded against its back. It was perfect.
‘The nut hatched!’ said Edie.
‘A week ago!’ said Impy. ‘And it’s a girl.’
‘What’s she called?’ asked Edie.
‘Peanut. Pea for short.’
Edie led the way back to the station platform with her hands cupped in front of her. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’
Naz looked puzzled, but Granny Agata sat up expectantly as Edie unfolded her hands. Charlie angled the torch so that they could see what was inside and revealed the flits – all five of them with the cradle.
‘This is my Granny Agata and my friend, Naz.’
There was complete silence for a moment as Naz and Granny Agata stared at them. No one moved, and then Impy stood up.
‘Hello.’
Naz let out a little scream. Nid, keen not to miss out on the opportunity for a show, sprinted across Edie’s hand and cartwheeled up and down her arm.
Granny Agata laughed and clapped her hands. ‘I sense little people,’ she said.
‘Can you see them, Gran?’ asked Edie. ‘The koti . . . koti . . . ton . . .’
‘The kotitonttu? No. No!’ said Granny Agata. ‘Not any more. But I still know if they are there. And that’s enough for me.’
‘It’s time for the Christmas lights,’ said Edie, and she nodded at Impy, who let out a piercing whistle.
A small cloud of glowing lights like a flock of luminous starlings made its way over from the Hillside Camp and hovered in front of the four humans on the platform. The flits had created an improvised light show by each carrying a lit birthday cake candle or a twist of reflective silver foil, a miniature torch or a luminous bead that glowed in the dark. Jot and Speckle flew up to join them and the flits started to move, circling, gliding and looping the loop. Their lights flickered and sparkled like a firework display in slow motion. Even Granny Agata, who couldn’t see the flits, could see the lights of the flickering cake candles and the luminous beads dancing above her.
‘This is amazing,’ said Naz. ‘Why did you never tell me about them?’
‘You wouldn’t have believed me.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. I suppose I wouldn’t,’ she laughed.
‘You won’t tell anyone?’ asked Edie.
‘Never,’ said Naz, rubbing her hands to keep warm. ‘I promise.’
Edie felt a familiar tickle as Impy lodged herself in her plait.
‘Can you hear me?’ Impy whispered in Edie’s ear.
‘Yes. Yes, I can,’ Edie
whispered back.
‘It’s your birthday this week, isn’t it?’ Impy said.
‘Yes, I’m twelve on Christmas Eve.’
‘So you won’t be thirteen for another year?’
‘No,’ Edie said firmly.
‘That’s good.’
They lapsed into silence as all four humans and one flit gazed up at the tiny glimmers of light electrifying the night sky.
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First published in Great Britain in 2019 by
PICCADILLY PRESS
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Owned by Bonnier Books
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www.piccadillypress.co.uk
Text copyright © Kate Wilkinson 2021
Illustrations copyright © Joe Berger 2021
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
The right of Kate Wilkinson and Joe Berger to be identified as Author and Illustrator respectively of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978-1-84812-911-5
Piccadilly Press is an imprint of Bonnier Books UK
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Edie and the Box of Flits Page 17