‘I don’t think so,’ said Twink sadly. ‘I hope not.’
Lindsay was silent for a moment, biting her lip. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said finally. ‘I suppose I understand a little better now. It’s just that Christmas trees are so pretty, and Mum always says you have to have a real one for the smell . . .’
Twink blinked in confusion. ‘A Christmas tree?
But it was a baby spruce your dad cut down.’
‘Yes, but it’s a Christmas tree, too,’ said Lindsay eagerly. ‘Oh, Twink, you should see it now! We spent all afternoon decorating it.’
‘But what is a Christmas tree?’ asked Twink.
‘Don’t you know?’ exclaimed Lindsay, bouncing on to her knees. Twink quickly took to the air, hovering in front of her. ‘They’re the most magical, wonderful things in the world!’
Twink listened in amazement as Lindsay launched into an explanation that included something called a manger, and the birth of a baby, and presents and fairy lights.
‘Fairy lights?’ she repeated.
Lindsay’s blonde hair tumbled about her face as she nodded. ‘Yes, that’s what they’re called! ’Cos they sparkle like little fairies.’
Except that fairies don’t sparkle, thought Twink dazedly.
She was sitting cross-legged on Lindsay’s bedside table by then, beside a stuffed ladybird that was taller than she was. She stared into its blank eyes and shivered. Oh, she wanted to go home! She liked Lindsay, but this was all much too confusing and strange.
‘Lindsay, would you help me?’ she asked. She flitted to the girl’s knee again, looking up at her earnestly. ‘I need to fly home, only I don’t know where it is from here. Could you point me in the right direction?’
Lindsay’s face fell. ‘Oh! Do you really have to go so soon?’
Twink nodded. ‘I really, really do. My parents must be frantic by now. They don’t even know where I am!’ The thought of it brought a hard lump to her throat.
Concern creased the girl’s face. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘My parents would go out of their minds if I went missing! You’ve got to get home – only . . .’ Lindsay trailed off, frowning.
‘What?’ cried Twink.
Lindsay shrugged. ‘Well . . . I don’t know where it is.’
Chapter Four
‘You don’t? ’ echoed Twink. ‘But I thought –’
Lindsay shook her head. ‘Uncle Matt’s not really my uncle; he’s a friend of Dad’s. I’ve only been to his farm once, to help Dad – well, you-know-what,’ she said awkwardly. ‘But that was years ago.’
‘Don’t you have any idea where it is?’ asked Twink desperately.
Lindsay bit her lip. ‘Um . . . not really. But my dad knows!’ she said, brightening. ‘I’ll ask him tonight. Don’t worry, Twink. You’ll be home soon, I promise!’
Later, after Lindsay had gone downstairs to eat, Twink hovered at the window and stared out at the strange world of the humans. How she longed for the sight of a friendly wood or a tinkling stream! But there was none – just street after street of brightly lit houses, gleaming in the winter darkness.
Many of the houses had sparkling trees in their windows, and Twink gazed at them in confusion. Mum was wrong, she thought. Humans didn’t cut down trees because they hated nature at all. There was a lot more to it than that – though exactly what, Twink still wasn’t sure!
Lost in thought, she flitted back to the bedside table. Lindsay had brought her some water in a tiny teacup from her doll’s house, but it was still the size of a bucket to Twink. Straining, she managed to pick it up and took a few sips.
Urgh! She made a face and hastily put it down again. Give her fresh dew any day!
Lindsay had also left her a piece of something called ‘chocolate’. The thick brown square squatted on the table and Twink looked at it doubtfully. Was this what humans ate? Something that resembled a slab of dried mud?
Hunger rumbled in Twink’s stomach. Breaking off a tiny piece of the chocolate, she gave it a cautious sniff before putting it in her mouth.
Oh! Twink’s eyes widened as the most amazing taste flowed through her – rich and sweet and thoroughly delicious. Settling down beside the brown square, she happily ate her fill, licking her fingers to get every last bit.
When she’d finished, Twink glanced at the bedroom door. Had Lindsay spoken to her father yet? With any luck, Twink would be able to set off from Lindsay’s bedroom window that very night! She grinned as she imagined her parents’ faces when she came swooping back into the tree stump. What a story she’d have to tell!
Tapping her wings together idly, Twink’s mind drifted back to the Christmas tree. What made the humans do such a strange thing? Still, she had to admit the tree had looked very pretty with the fairy lights sparkling on it. And Lindsay had said it was ‘decorated’ now. What did that mean?
Twink looked at the door again, curiosity tugging at her. It seemed a shame not to find out more about the Christmas tree while she could. What if she were the first fairy ever to go inside a human house? She had to find out more; this might be the only chance any fairy would get!
The thought decided her, despite the danger. Squaring her shoulders, Twink skimmed across the room. The door was slightly ajar. She slipped through, and flew down the darkened stairs.
Hovering outside the door at the bottom, she peered through the glass. Lindsay and her parents were sitting around a table, eating dinner and talking. Clarence the dog sat expectantly beside Lindsay, his head following every movement of her fork.
Good – if she were careful, none of them would notice her. Twink inspected the door. It was firmly closed, but now that she wasn’t in such a panic, she could see there was a good-sized gap at the bottom.
A moment later she had squeezed through and was in the dining area. The Christmas tree was at the opposite end of the room, where the sofas were.
‘Yes, and that’s not all,’ Lindsay’s mother was saying. ‘You won’t believe what he told me next –’
Twink didn’t wait to hear. Ducking behind a sofa, she half ran, half flew down the length of the long room. When she darted out into the open, she gasped.
Before, the tree had only had lights on it. Now its branches were adorned with bright, dangling figures and gleaming glass baubles. Ropes of bristling silver were draped about the tree like necklaces, and right at its very top sat a shining star.
Twink flew slowly around the sparkling tree, taking in every detail. She had never seen anything so beautiful! Suddenly she stopped, her eyes widening. One of the dangling figures was a fairy, with holly-leaf wings and a white dress garlanded with ivy.
Twink flitted to the decoration and stared into its face. It really was a fairy! Her painted features smiled at Twink.
‘Dad, where’s Uncle Matt’s farm?’ came Lindsay’s voice from across the room.
This was it! Twink landed on a branch beside the little fairy, her pointed ears craning to catch every word.
‘Up near Wenton,’ said Lindsay’s father. ‘Why?’
‘Just wondering,’ said Lindsay. She slipped a bit of food to Clarence, who wolfed it down. ‘Er . . . what direction is that in?’
Lindsay’s mother laughed. ‘You must be doing geography in school.’
‘That’s right.’ Lindsay nodded vigorously. ‘So which direction is it, Dad?’
‘From here, you mean?’ Lindsay’s father considered. ‘North-east, I suppose.’
‘Which way’s that? Can you show me?’
With an eyebrow-raised glance at Lindsay’s mother, her father twisted in his seat and pointed towards the front of the house. ‘That way, roughly. That do you?’
‘Yes, thanks, Dad! That’s brilliant.’ Lindsay’s freckled face beamed.
Ask how far it is! implored Twink silently as she perched on the prickly branch. I need to know how far!
Miraculously, Lindsay seemed to hear. ‘Dad . . . how long does it take to get there?’
‘About an hour, motorway
willing,’ said Lindsay’s father. ‘Why all the questions, Lin? Are you planning on going there?’
Twink clutched the branch excitedly. Of course she knew that cars went faster than fairies, but surely if a car took an hour to make the journey, then she could fly it in three or four? She’d be home before morning!
But Lindsay didn’t look so sure. She bit her lip. ‘Um . . . how far away is that in miles?’
Her father put down his fork with a groan. ‘It’s about fifty miles away. Now, do you need anything else? The postcode, perhaps? Grid reference on an Ordnance Survey map?’
‘Tom, she’s only asking,’ chided Lindsay’s mother.
All the blood seemed to rush from Twink’s head, leaving her faint and dizzy. Fifty miles? That was further than the strongest fairy in the world could fly!
Lindsay’s face had paled. ‘Fifty miles? But . . .’
‘What?’ said her father in exasperation.
‘Nothing.’ Lindsay looked down, her
‘Nothing.’ Lindsay looked down, her fork scraping as she toyed with her food. Suddenly she glanced up again, her face full of hope. ‘Dad! Could you take me there?’
Of course! Twink held her breath as she saw Lindsay’s plan. If Lindsay’s father would drive her there, then Twink could sneak along! She’d be home in no time.
‘What for?’ Lindsay’s father gazed at her as though she had lost her senses.
‘Sweetie, what’s up?’ put in Lindsay’s mum. ‘Why all this interest in Uncle Matt’s farm all of a sudden?’
‘Because . . . because . . .’ Lindsay’s cheeks turned pink as she floundered.
Twink froze in terror. Don’t tell them! she shouted silently. She trusted Lindsay, but she didn’t trust Lindsay’s parents one little bit! They’d come after her with the rolled-up magazine again.
‘Because I want to see where you chopped down the tree!’ burst out Lindsay finally. Twink’s wings sagged in relief.
Her parents stared at her. ‘Why would you want to see that?’ asked her father.
‘I – I want to say sorry to it.’ Lindsay’s cheeks were on fire, but she lifted her chin firmly. ‘For being chopped down.’
‘You want to say sorry to the tree stump,’ repeated her father in disbelief. ‘Now I’ve heard everything!’
‘It must be something she heard in school,’ put in Lindsay’s mother. ‘Darling, why are you so worried about the tree? We cut one down every year! You always say how pretty it is.’
Lindsay looked near tears. ‘Because it was a living thing! Trees have personalities, and lots of them have dryads, and –’
‘Dryads?’ Her father burst out laughing. ‘You’ve been reading too many fairytales! The tree didn’t have a dryad, I promise.’
How would you know? thought Twink. Her wings quivered with anger. He probably didn’t even believe in dryads, much less care if he chopped one down!
‘It might have,’ insisted Lindsay. ‘Dad, will you take me there? Please?’
‘So you can say sorry to a tree stump? No, I don’t think so! You can say sorry to the Christmas tree, if you must. Coffee, Karen?’ Pushing back his chair, he stomped off towards the kitchen. Clarence followed, wagging his tail.
‘Lindsay, I think you’ve upset Dad,’ whispered Lindsay’s mother. ‘You know how much he loves bringing the tree home to us every year.’
‘I know, but . . .’ Lindsay hesitated. ‘Mum, could you take me? Please? It’s really important!’
Her mother grimaced. ‘Oh, Lindsay! Maybe later, after the holidays.’
‘When after the holidays?’ pressed Lindsay.
‘I don’t know! Sometime. Now just leave it, all right?’ Rising from the table, Lindsay’s mother started stacking the dishes.
Glumly, Lindsay got to her feet. ‘May I please be excused?’
Her mother paused. ‘Don’t you want dessert? It’s apple pie.’
‘No, thank you,’ said Lindsay. ‘I think I’ll just go up to my room now.’
‘Suit yourself!’ sighed Lindsay’s mother, disappearing into the kitchen.
Twink shot out from the tree, leaving the fairy decoration trembling behind her. As Lindsay left the room, she put on a burst of speed, flitting through the door just before it closed. Lindsay saw her, and gasped.
‘Twink! What are you doing here?’ She popped a hand over her mouth, looking over her shoulder. But no sound came from her parents. ‘Come on!’ she hissed, and she galloped up the stairs with Twink flying right behind her.
‘I heard everything,’ admitted Twink once they were safely back in Lindsay’s room. Her heart was thudding as she touched down on Lindsay’s bedside table. ‘Oh, Lindsay! Fifty miles – what am I going to do? It’s hopeless!’
Chapter Five
‘There must be a way,’ said Lindsay. She bent down so that she could look Twink in the eyes. Her own were round and worried. ‘Don’t give up, Twink! You’ll get home again.’
‘How?’ demanded Twink. ‘Neither of your parents will drive you!’
‘Well, maybe – maybe if you talked to them again, we could convince them you’re a fairy! Then they’d be sure to want to help.’ Lindsay’s face lit up.
‘No!’ cried Twink, shooting up in the air. ‘Lindsay, please – promise me you won’t. Your parents will try to swat me if they see me again!’
Lindsay didn’t look completely convinced, but she nodded. ‘All right, I promise. Don’t worry, Twink, I won’t say a word.’
Reassured, Twink drifted back down to the bedside table. ‘What will we do, then?’ she asked, rubbing her wings together anxiously. ‘I’ve got to get home, Lindsay; I’ve just got to!’
Lindsay’s forehead creased. ‘Fairies must have to travel long distances sometimes,’ she said. ‘What do you do then?’
Twink considered. ‘Well . . . we usually ride birds for any journey that’s over a mile or two.’
‘Do you?’ breathed Lindsay, clearly enchanted by this information. ‘Well, then, why can’t you do that? My mum’s got a bird feeder in the back garden; we get loads of birds every morning!’
Twink thought of Sunny, the faithful grey and yellow tit she had ridden in her first term at Glitterwings, and hope prickled through her. ‘Oh, Lindsay, that might work!’ she burst out.
‘Great!’ Lindsay jumped up. ‘I’ll set my alarm for really early, and we’ll sneak into the back garden before Mum and Dad wake up.’ Then her face fell. ‘Oh, why am I so excited?’ she wailed. ‘It just means you’ll be leaving!’
Twink took quickly to the air, brushing a wing against Lindsay’s cheek. ‘Don’t be sad,’ she said warmly. ‘I’ll never forget you, Lindsay. I’ll tell my family all about you!’
Lindsay managed a small smile. ‘I won’t forget you either, Twink. Not ever.’
That evening the two girls talked for ages, exchanging stories about their lives. Lindsay was open-mouthed when Twink described Glitterwings Academy: the spreading oak tree school on its hill, with tiny golden windows spiralling up its trunk and hundreds of fairy students swooping about inside.
‘It’s like something out of a story!’ she said, hugging her knees. ‘But why haven’t humans ever found it?’
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Twink. Now that she thought about it, she realised there must be some sort of magic involved. Though, then again, if most humans were like Lindsay’s parents, they’d just convince themselves that they’d seen a tree full of moths!
‘Tell me more about Christmas trees,’ she said. She was sitting perched on Lindsay’s knee again, which now had the pink cotton of Lindsay’s nightdress draped over it. ‘I still don’t understand, Lindsay. Why do humans have them?’
Lindsay’s freckled face screwed up in thought. ‘Well – not all humans do,’ she said. ‘But I think most people in this country do. And America. It’s a – a tradition.’
‘But what are they for? ’ Twink fluttered her wings despairingly.
‘They’re to celebrate Christmas,’ explained Li
ndsay. ‘It’s a holiday, that’s all. You sing special songs, and there’s a big dinner, and you get lots of presents, though it’s not really supposed to be about that, and –’
‘But how does the tree celebrate Christmas?’ broke in Twink. Special songs and presents sounded nice – but they didn’t have much to do with cutting down a baby spruce, so far as she could tell!
Suddenly the door to Lindsay’s room flew open. ‘Time for – oh!’ Lindsay’s mother started as she caught sight of Twink. ‘It’s that moth again! Lindsay, what’s it doing on your knee? ’
‘It’s – it’s pretty,’ said Lindsay weakly.
Lindsay’s mother shook her head in amazement. ‘But you’re terrified of moths!’
‘Not this one,’ said Lindsay. ‘It’s my friend.’
‘Your friend?’ laughed Lindsay’s mother. She came forward, holding her dressing gown around herself. Twink gulped, frozen in place. She felt as exposed as a frog on a log!
‘It is pretty, isn’t it?’ said Lindsay’s mother, staring down. Twink looked back at her uneasily, holding her wings very still. ‘I wonder what it’s doing out at this time of year?’
‘Maybe it’s lost its way,’ said Lindsay softly. ‘Maybe it wants to go home again.’ Very gently, she reached out and stroked Twink’s wing.
For a moment Lindsay’s mother looked confused as she gazed at Twink. Then she shook her head firmly. ‘What an imagination! Promise me you’ll put it out of the window before you go to bed, Lindsay; you know how your father feels about insects. Besides, you’re right – it probably wants to go home again, poor thing.’
Twink went limp as Lindsay’s mother left the room. ‘That was close!’ she whispered.
Lindsay nodded worriedly. ‘We can’t let her see you again or she will put you outside – and it’s cold out there!’
That night Twink slept in the tiny house, which Lindsay said her grandfather had made for her. ‘My friend Sarah says it’s babyish,’ she confessed, her cheeks reddening, ‘but I still like playing with it.’
Christmas Fairy Page 3