Philippa Fisher and the Dream-Maker's Daughter Page 10

  I glanced at her dad. He nodded quickly at me. Was he letting me off the hook so Robyn wouldn’t see me as a sneak and a thief? Or was he trying to come between us by making me lie to her? Either way, I didn’t have much choice. I wasn’t about to contradict him and say that actually I’d been sent home because I’d been caught snooping in the back room!

  “Yeah,” I said. “Apparently they want me to go back.”

  “I know. That’s too bad.”

  “Maybe we could meet tomorrow or something,” I said lamely.

  “Robyn’s going to be busy tomorrow,” her dad replied before she’d even opened her mouth. “Inventory time,” he added.

  “Well, I’ll see you whenever,” I said, aware that Mr. Fairweather was itching for me to get out of his shop.

  “Come by tomorrow, anyway. I’ll get him to let me off for a bit,” Robyn said, quietly enough that her dad wouldn’t hear. “Anyway, we’ve still got so much to talk about!” she added meaningfully.

  “I know!” I said. Fairies!

  Mr. Fairweather had come to the door to usher me out. “OK, bye, now,” he said. “Thanks for coming over. Sorry you couldn’t stay longer.”

  Hypocrite. Liar, I murmured under my breath. Then I pulled up my collar against the rain and ran back to the cottage.

  I went to bed early that night, hoping Daisy would come soon. Why hadn’t we arranged a time? I had no idea when to expect her. All I knew was that I needed to see her. She had to explain all of this before I really did go crazy!

  Had it been my charm in there? The more I thought about it, the more I thought it couldn’t have been. I mean, it didn’t make sense. I’d found it at the house he used to own. If he’d wanted it that badly, he’d have taken it with him, wouldn’t he?

  Unless he forgot about it till they’d sold the house and it was too late. . . .

  But even so — why would he want a weathered old charm like that? Whichever way I looked at it, I couldn’t make any sense of it. And the more I thought about it, the more I could see it from his point of view — and it did look pretty bad, actually. Me snooping around in his stockroom. I decided I’d go over in the morning and apologize.

  I looked at the clock. Eleven-thirty. Where was Daisy? I was getting so sleepy. I got out of bed and stuck my head out the window to get some fresh air and keep myself awake. Daisy, where are you? I whispered to the silent night sky. It didn’t reply. The cloud cover had broken up slightly, and a couple of stars peeked down through the gaps. I stared at them, wondering if they were just normal stars or something to do with fairy godmothers. Do you know what’s going on? I whispered to them. They didn’t reply, either.

  Past midnight. My eyes were struggling to stay open. Come on, Daisy. You promised.

  It wasn’t like Daisy to break her promises. At least not the Daisy I knew. Or thought I knew. Maybe I was wrong. I’d been wrong about me and Charlotte. I thought we’d be friends forever and ever, and all it took was a few months apart and we were like strangers now.

  Perhaps the same thing would happen with Daisy. I thought about last night and tried to figure out if she had changed. There had been something different about her. She’d been edgy and nervous. Was it because of work? Or something to do with me and Robyn? Was she jealous? I hoped she knew she didn’t need to be.

  Please come back and see me, Daisy.

  I couldn’t stay awake. It was after one o’clock. Daisy obviously wasn’t coming.

  I snuggled down into my bed, pulling the blankets up to my chin, and nodded off into a light, jerky sleep.

  “At last!”

  Who was that?

  “I’ve been waiting for you to go to sleep for hours!”

  Daisy? Where was she? I tried to open my eyes.

  “No! Don’t! Keep them closed! Stay asleep!”

  “Daisy?” I murmured.

  “Yes. It’s me. I’ve been desperate to see you.”

  “What do you mean, desperate?” I said. My voice came out in a thick, heavy drawl, as though it were being played on a CD with the speed slowed down. “Where have you been? I waited for you.” The words crawled out of my mouth. I could see them! Inching away from me in a haze like a genie’s puff of smoke, disappearing up, up, and away into the sky.

  The sky? But I was in bed. Wasn’t I? I looked down. I was standing in a glade in my pajamas. The sun shone down on the pair of us, lighting up a circle around us like a spotlight. But it was the middle of the night!

  “Daisy, what’s going on?” I said, feeling an itch of panic scratch at my skin. “Where were you? I waited for you. Waited as long as I could. But you didn’t come.”

  “Listen,” Daisy said. She took a step closer to me and looked into my eyes. “This won’t be easy for you to understand, but I’m going to explain the best I can, OK?”

  “OK,” I said. Why was she talking to me as if I were a baby? And how was she going to explain any of this?

  “Something really bad has happened,” she said. “I was on my way back to ATC, and I stopped for a moment in the village. Carrying that thing wasn’t easy. It was twice my size. It would be easier as a fairy. I was looking around to check that no one was nearby, so I could turn back into a fairy.”

  “Go on. What happened?”

  “I got caught,” she said.

  “Caught? What do you mean?”

  “Caught. Trapped.”

  “I don’t understand! How did you get here if you got trapped?”

  Daisy stared at me for a moment. Then she said in a calm voice, “I didn’t get here.”

  “What do you mean?” I squealed. “You’re standing right in front of me! Of course you’re here!”

  “I’m not,” Daisy repeated, “And neither are you.”

  “Neither am I?” I said with a laugh that bordered on hysterical. “I’m not here? I think I’d know if I —”

  “You’re dreaming,” Daisy said patiently. “You’re asleep. This is a dream.”

  I looked down at my feet. Bare feet. I was in my pajamas in bare feet in the forest, standing in a glade with Daisy in the sun — in the middle of the night.

  “I’m dreaming?” I said as it dawned on me that she was probably telling the truth. “But — but I don’t understand. It feels so real. And you didn’t come.” I sat down on the grass. It felt soft and cushiony. As I settled into it, it turned into one of the beanbags from Robyn’s shop. Daisy sat down next to me.

  “I’m going to tell you everything,” she said. “But I haven’t got long. It’s only a ten-minute dream, so you have to listen and concentrate, OK?”

  “OK,” I said, but I was already starting to feel sleepy again. The beanbag was so warm and comfortable and — ouch! What was that? The beanbag had turned into a hedgehog, spiking into my back. “Ow! Stop it!” I said. It became a beanbag again, and I settled back down.

  “Daisy, how did you get here?” I said. “What’s going on?”

  “Do you remember last night when I was leaving, I said I thought I’d forgotten something?”

  “By my bed?”

  Daisy nodded. “It wasn’t true. I was sprinkling some dust under the pillow.”

  I stared blankly at her. “Dust? You put dust under my pillow?”

  “Dream dust,” Daisy said. “Like I did the day before, too. I dropped some in your shoe to pass on a message so you’d leave your window open for me.”

  She put dream dust in my shoe? What was she talking about? I was about to ask her when I remembered. “The Scrabble letters!” I said. “You made that happen?”

  Daisy nodded.

  “But how? Daisy, I don’t understand!”

  Daisy took a breath. “You know yesterday, I told you I’m in Triple D?” she said.

  “And you refused to tell me what that was.”

  “Yes. Well, I’ll tell you now. I don’t think I’ve got anything to lose in my present circumstances.”

  I wanted to ask what she meant by her present circumstances, but I didn’t want to int
errupt again. I needed to understand what was going on.

  “It’s Dream Delivery Department,” she said. “That’s what I do now. That’s what butterflies are. They’re fairies delivering dreams.”

  “All butterflies?” I asked.

  “Most of them. In the summer, the retired ones come out, too. They’re the ones everyone can see. The rest of the year, we’re only visible to believers.”

  “Believers?”

  “In fairies,” Daisy explained. “Everyone else thinks butterflies are alive only in the summer.”

  I let out a breath as I tried to take in everything she was saying. “So you deliver dreams?” I said.

  Daisy nodded.

  “Gosh,” I said. “So this really is a dream. This is a dream that you delivered to me?”

  “Well, not exactly. Like I said, I snuck it under your pillow yesterday. I used some spare dream dust. I always carry a bit around, just in case.”

  “In case of what, though?” I asked. “What happened? Why didn’t you come?”

  “Listen, we haven’t got much time, Philippa.” Daisy’s eyes held mine. “I’m in danger, and right now, you’re the only person who can help me.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can if you’re in danger.”

  “OK, listen. I can’t tell you everything, or I’ll be in the kind of trouble I just can’t get out of — but I’ll tell you as much as I can.”

  “I’m listening,” I said.

  “Yesterday, after I left you, I was heading back to ATC with the dream catcher. I knew I had to —”

  “What’s the dream catcher?” I asked.

  “You know the thing you had hanging in your room, that I took away?”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “The charm.”

  “That’s it. But it’s not just a charm. I checked it against the MagiCell on my way up to ATC. I shouldn’t have, really. My instructions were just to get it back. Not that I’ve managed to do that, either.”

  “So what did you find out?”

  “Just that, really. That it’s called a dream catcher. And that in some parts of the world, they use them to ward off evil spirits and bad dreams.”

  Ward off bad dreams? It hadn’t exactly done that for me!

  “In other places, they just sell them as toys or for decoration. But this one is different. This one is special.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I was ordered to fetch it — by ATC.”

  “So what happened? Who caught you?”

  Daisy hesitated. “Philippa, you’re not going to like this,” she said.

  “I don’t like any of it! I don’t see why it would make any difference who —” And then I stopped. The shop, the stockroom, the dream catcher on the wall. “It’s him, isn’t it?” I said. “It’s Robyn’s dad.”

  Daisy nodded.

  “But why? What’s he got to do with it?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what he wants, but whatever it is, it’s not looking good for me.”

  I could feel anger start to swirl inside me. “Where are you? What did he do to you?” I asked, my chest tight and sore.

  “He took me back to the shop. Earlier, when you came in — I was there! He took the dream catcher and put me in a jar. Philippa, I can’t live long in here.”

  “How long can you survive?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe another twenty-four hours or so. Please, Philippa, you have to get me out of here!”

  I felt the determination well up inside me, clogging up my throat. “Of course I will!” I said. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Daisy was starting to fade. Her face turned paler, the edges of her body were growing fuzzy and indistinct. “Daisy, what’s happening?” I yelped. “Are you OK?”

  “It’s fine. It’s just the dream — it’s coming to an end. Listen carefully. I’m not in the stockroom anymore. That must have been a temporary measure. I think it’s the only room downstairs that he can lock things away in. But he’s moved me now. I’m in the apartment. He’s got an office in the attic, where he keeps all his personal files and everything. I’m in there, in a cupboard or something. I think it’s locked. It’s hard to tell. It’s dark — and there’s not much air to breathe, either. Please, Philippa — hurry.”

  “How am I going to get to you?” I asked, panicked. What if she ran out of air before I got there? I couldn’t lose Daisy — not again!

  “I don’t know. Find a way. Make him let you visit Robyn. Then you’ll have to think up some way of sneaking up here.”

  “I’ll do it,” I said.

  “Look, there’s something else,” she said in a whisper so faint I had to strain to hear her. Her voice was starting to fade as well now. “When he brought me up here, he took me out of the jar for a few moments.”

  “Why?”

  Daisy paused for ages. I thought maybe I was losing her altogether. The dream had ended. But then she spoke again. “He was measuring my wings.”

  “What? Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know. But he was muttering something about needing them more than I do. Philippa, I think he wants to cut them off. I think he wants to use them.”

  I remembered what I’d seen in the night — the way Daisy’s wings had shimmered in exactly the same way as the dream catcher. And the dream catcher was torn. Did he want to replace it with Daisy’s wings?

  “But why?” I said again. It didn’t make sense.

  “I don’t know,” Daisy said. “I don’t even want to think about it. All I know is I won’t survive without them — if I ever get out of here alive, that is.”

  “Daisy — don’t talk like that! I’m going to find you. You’ll be OK. Do you hear me?”

  Her face was fading even more. “I hear you. Just hurry.”

  I took a breath. “I’m going to find you,” I said firmly. “After everything you’ve done for me — I owe you.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” she said. “Just your friendship.”

  “You’ve got that,” I said, a lump jabbing into the words as they formed in my throat. “You’ve got that always.”

  Daisy smiled feebly before fading even further. Moments later, she was gone. For a few seconds, I was standing in the glade all on my own. Then something really weird happened. Everything went blurry and faded — the trees, the glade, all of it, faded and disappeared altogether.

  The next thing I knew, I was waking up in my bed. The window was open, and I could hear the wind outside, blowing through the trees with a soft whistle.

  It was morning, and I had a job to do.

  I was getting weaker. How much longer could I survive in here?

  Philippa — please hurry.

  I slipped and stumbled in the darkness. No use trying to get out of here. Any attempt to escape would only use up the tiny amount of energy I had. I had to stay still, try not to do anything. Try not to think about where I was, what was happening. Try not to make sense of it or ask questions. Right now, there were no answers.

  Philippa, please — find me!

  I could feel my body trembling. Dream dust sprinkled from my wings as they shook, falling softly around me onto the bottom of the jar.

  Please . . . please, Philippa.

  “I know you said you were busy doing inventory, but I wondered if there was any chance that maybe I could hang out with Robyn, just for a bit.”

  I was standing inside the doorway of the bookshop, talking to Mr. Fairweather in my best, most polite, I’m-very-sorry-and-I’m-actually-a-nice-girl-really voice. It wasn’t that much different from my normal voice, because I am actually a nice girl, really. But when you’re faced with someone really scary who shouts at his daughter in public places and has got your best friend trapped in a jar, it’s not all that easy to act natural.

  “I’m sorry about yesterday,” I added nervously. “I didn’t mean to snoop.”

  He looked at me from his seat behind the register, his eyes vague and distant, as though he were looking rig
ht through me at something a long way away. Then he turned back to the book he had open on the counter. Slotting a bookmark in between the pages, he closed the book. “She’s upstairs,” he said. “I’ll call her. Wait here.”

  He went to the back of the shop and opened the door. Without taking his eye off me, he called up the stairs. “Robyn, your friend’s here.”

  I heard a muffled voice call back down.

  “You can go on up,” he said.

  “Thank you!” I scurried past him and ran up the stairs. That was one hurdle out of the way. Now all I had to do was sneak into his office without being noticed, find Daisy, free her from the jar, and get out again in one piece. Simple.

  Robyn was at the top of the stairs, waiting for me. “I thought I might not see you again!” she said.

  “Why would you think that?” I asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I thought my dad might have scared you off. Or . . .”

  “Or what?”

  Robyn looked down and fiddled with the hem of her sweater. “Or maybe you thought I was stupid, because of what I was saying the other day. About fairies and stuff.”

  “I didn’t think that was stupid at all!” I said. “I wanted to hear more!”

  “Really?” Robyn said as she led me along the narrow hall toward her room. As we walked, I noticed the staircase that led up to Mr. Fairweather’s office. It was dark and narrow with just one door at the top. Closed. I prayed it wouldn’t be locked. Somehow I had to find an excuse to get up there without Robyn — or her dad — knowing anything about it.

  We went into Robyn’s room. It was at the front of the apartment with a big sash window. Outside, the sky was white. Virtually bare trees poked over the tops of the shops on the other side of the square, their branches hanging limp and tired, as if drained of all their energy now that they’d lost their leaves, ready to spend the winter resting and waiting to come to life again. To the left, I could see the river that ran along the edge of the village.

  “Come and sit down,” Robyn said. Her bed had a pink quilt. The floor was littered with books, and a few clothes were strewn across the carpet. She picked them up and motioned for me to sit on the cushions under the window.