Fairy Dust Page 6

  ‘I don’t think I snore,’ Rosie said, frowning. ‘Cammie, you don’t have to move back in if you don’t want to. I just thought—’

  ‘I’ll give it a try,’ Cammie said quickly. ‘I suppose I can wear my earplugs if you’re too noisy. I’ll go and fetch my things back and, while I’m about it, I’ll ask some of the other wee men to help me make a list of the old folk round here. It shouldn’t be difficult since most of us are living in their cottages.’

  ‘Great!’ Rosie smiled. ‘I’ll get some paper and make out the invitations so they’ll be ready when you get back.’

  Rosie wrote in big letters:

  PARTY INVITATION!!!

  YOU ARE INVITED TO A SURPRISE PARTY FOR MISS FLORA MACPHEE‘S 80th BIRTHDAY!

  She used a red pen to make the letters, then drew gold squiggles underneath with the special pen her mother always used to write on birthday cards. Next she added the place – the town hall – and the time and date – seven o’clock in the evening next Saturday. Then she printed RSVP with her own name and telephone number beside it. All she had to do now was ask her mother to book the hall.

  When Cammie came back much later, balancing his matchbox-suitcase on his head, he told her she should make out twenty invitations. ‘I’ve talked to the other wee men and that’s all the folk we can think of over the age of seventy-five who live near enough to come,’ he said. ‘I don’t know that they were all brought up here, but some of them must have been.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Rosie said. ‘All we need is a few who remember Sa—’ She stopped herself quickly. She had been about to say Sarah’s name and she knew she wasn’t meant to tell it to Cammie. ‘No fairy or wee man will be able to come to the party,’ Rosie reminded him. ‘Because after the party starts, I’m going to have to say the name of Snowdrop’s child out loud.’

  ‘Don’t worry. We won’t feel like going to a party, anyway,’ Cammie said grimly. ‘We’re all too worried about Snowdrop. She’s getting weaker every day. You know, if our plan doesn’t work, she’ll only have a few days left.’

  Rosie looked down at the fairy flower bracelet that she still wore on her wrist, the one Snowdrop had made for her. ‘It will work,’ she said, crossing her fingers tightly. ‘It’s got to!’

  The invitations had all been sent out and Cammie’s fairy dust must have worked because nearly everyone who had received an invitation had telephoned Rosie’s mum to say they would be coming. Her mother had booked the church hall and she had invited Reverend Mackay and his wife to the party too. He was nearing retirement and had three sisters, all older than him, the eldest of whom had been in Flora’s class at school. So Rosie made sure they invited the minister’s sisters to the party as well, and Reverend MacKay thought they would come, even though they lived on different parts of the island now.

  ‘I still can’t believe that Miss MacPhee told you she wished someone would throw a party for her,’ her mum said, for the tenth time, as she put down the phone after taking a call from yet another person who was accepting their invitation. ‘Nobody you’ve invited can, either. They say they always thought she didn’t want anything to do with anybody.’

  Rosie crossed her fingers behind her back and reminded herself that this was only a white lie to save Snowdrop. ‘Well, she does.’

  Her mother sighed. ‘I hope you’re right, Rosie. I can’t say Miss MacPhee has ever struck me as the type of person who’d relish the idea of a party. Maybe I should check with her first.’

  ‘No, Mum. It’ll spoil the surprise,’ Rosie protested.

  ‘Well . . .’ Her mother still looked uncertain.

  ‘Please, Mum . . .’ Rosie begged.

  ‘Well, I suppose it can’t really do any harm,’ her mum sighed. ‘Reverend Mackay seems to think it’s a good idea and his wife is going to help me get the hall ready.’

  She didn’t have time to say any more because the phone rang again. This time, though, it wasn’t someone accepting a party invitation. It was Rosie’s dad. He was phoning to let them know that he was coming to see them this weekend!

  Rosie was really excited. ‘That means Dad can come to the party,’ she beamed, after they put down the phone.

  Her mum was smiling too, until Rosie added, breathlessly, ‘I can’t believe he’s really going to be here! On Sunday we can go out in Miss MacPhee’s boat . . . all three of us! We can show Dad the seals!’

  ‘Rosie, you do realize that Dad is coming to spend time with you, don’t you?’ Her mother said slowly. ‘I mean . . . Dad and I are still friends but our marriage is over.’

  Rosie saw her mother’s worried look. ‘It’s OK, Mum,’ she said softly. ‘I know that.’ Because she did know it. Most of the time.

  Her mum stared at her for a moment or two. ‘I’m sorry, darling,’ she sighed, then she pulled her close and gave her a hug.

  That night Rosie couldn’t sleep. Cammie hadn’t got back yet from visiting Snowdrop in the fairy forest and Rosie was getting worried. Why was he taking so long?

  Just as she was about to get up for the tenth time to look out of the window, Cammie flew in through the bedroom door. ‘Thought I’d come in down the chimney in the living room for a change,’ he explained, dusting some soot from his kilt and sneezing loudly.

  ‘How’s Snowdrop?’ Rosie asked anxiously.

  ‘Not good, I’m afraid. Queen Mae is looking after her. She’s very weak now. She’s resting on the Queen’s special rose-petal bed which makes you have lovely dreams when you sleep on it.’

  ‘What does Queen Mae think about our idea?’ Rosie asked. ‘Does she think it’ll work?’

  ‘She says it might. But because Snowdrop is so sick now, she thinks it’ll take more than just one person remembering. She thinks you’ll have to get lots of people all remembering Snowdrop’s child at once.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Rosie sighed. ‘I hope I can do that.’

  ‘I know you can do it,’ Cammie replied, flying over to the mirror and frowning at his sooty face. ‘And when a MacPherson knows a thing, he’s always right!’ He looked back at Rosie. ‘All the fairies are counting on you, Rosie. You can’t let us down now.’

  Rosie swallowed. She wanted to say something but found that she couldn’t make any words come out. Her throat felt like it had closed over. Finally she managed to say, in a hoarse voice, ‘I wish I didn’t have to do this on my own. I wish Mum believed me about the fairies.’

  Cammie looked at her softly. His voice was much gentler as he said, ‘She can’t help not believing. Anyway, it’s because she doesn’t believe that she’s got all worried about you and phoned up your dad. And that’s probably why he’s decided to visit you this weekend. He must care about you a lot to come all this way, don’t you think?’

  Rosie nodded, slowly. No matter what had happened between her mum and dad, her dad did care about her. And she gave Cammie a smile for reminding her of that.

  Rosie was so busy planning ahead for the party that she kept forgetting that her dad was coming and every time she remembered, she couldn’t help smiling again, even though she was still really worried about Snowdrop.

  She felt very excited as she waited for him to arrive on Friday afternoon. He had flown as far as Inverness, then hired a car to drive from Inverness over the road-bridge to Skye.

  ‘He’s here!’ Rosie shouted upstairs to her mother, as she spotted him pull into their driveway from the kitchen window. Her mum had changed twice today already and was now upstairs touching up her make-up. Rosie’s mother hadn’t worn make-up since they’d arrived on the island and Rosie was surprised that she was going to so much trouble just because her dad was coming to stay. Secretly she hoped it might mean that her mum was having good feelings about her dad, despite what she’d said about them never getting back together again. After all, there was always a chance, wasn’t there?

  ‘Rosie!’ Her dad flung open the car door and lifted her up. They hugged for several minutes before he asked, ‘Where’s your mother?’

&nbs
p; That was good as well, Rosie thought. That her dad had asked about her straight away. She felt a bit cross with her mum, though. Why hadn’t she come out to greet him?

  ‘She’s in the house getting ready,’ Rosie said, doing her best to make it clear that her mother had prepared for his arrival. ‘Come on.’

  Her mum met them in the hallway looking pretty but nervous, Rosie thought. Her parents went to kiss each other, but only on the cheek. When she was younger, her parents had always kissed and hugged for ages whenever one of them had been away. Rosie used to think it was soppy. Now she’d give anything to see them act like that again.

  ‘I’ve brought my kilt for this party tomorrow night, Rosie,’ her dad said as he brought his bags into the house. ‘You won’t be embarrassed by my hairy legs, will you?’

  ‘Don’t be silly! Anyway, Cammie’s got much hairier legs than you!’

  ‘Cammie?’

  ‘I’m sure Rosie will tell you all about Cammie and the other fairies later,’ her mother said, giving him an I-told-you-so look.

  Rosie saw the look and wished she hadn’t said anything. Just as her dad started to reply, his mobile phone went off.

  ‘Oh, no,’ her mum scowled. ‘Couldn’t you leave that thing at home for once?’

  Her dad explained that he had an important court case coming up and that he’d promised to remain contactable while he was here.

  ‘And what about the promise you made to Rosie?’ her mother said, sharply. ‘You promised to spend your time with her this weekend. Remember?’

  ‘It’s OK, Mum,’ Rosie said quickly, starting to feel all churny inside like she always used to when her parents argued in front of her.

  ‘Look, I’ll only be a minute!’ her dad said, turning away to speak into his mobile.

  Rosie’s mum rolled her eyes and stomped into the kitchen. That had happened a lot when they lived in London – her mum rolling her eyes like that and going off in a bad mood after something Dad had done. Rosie used to feel like she was piggy in the middle all the time, unable to decide whether to follow her mum or stay with her dad. At least she’d been able to leave that feeling behind when they’d left London.

  As Rosie waited for her dad to come off his mobile she realized that something else had changed. In London, whenever her mum and dad had argued, she had always been scared. She’d been scared in case they were going to split up. Now, because that had already happened, there was nothing to be afraid of any more. And, in a funny kind of way, that felt better.

  After tea, Rosie’s mum suggested that Rosie take her father to see some of the countryside around the cottage. So Rosie took him down to the loch, then up on to the moor where she showed him the special tree stump beside the forest with the flowers round the outside. She also showed him the flower bracelet Snowdrop had made for her. She knew he didn’t believe her about the fairies but she was so happy he was there that she didn’t really care.

  It was later that night that everything started to go wrong.

  Rosie went downstairs to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen and paused in the hall. She could hear her parents discussing her as they set up her dad’s camp bed in the living room.

  ‘She’s always had a very active imagination, Maggie,’ her father was saying. ‘You always used to see that as a good thing.’

  ‘When she was younger, yes. Then she was doing the usual thing of making up imaginary friends. This is different. She seems to really believe in these fairies. I’m worried about her, James. I’m worried this is some sort of weird reaction to us breaking up. Maybe I did the wrong thing moving her up here. I thought she’d be happy here. I thought it would be a wonderful place for her to grow up . . .’

  Before Rosie’s dad could answer, his mobile phone started ringing again.

  Rosie heard her father answer the call, then she heard his voice getting more and more tense until he said, ‘Look, are you sure I need to be there?’ He spoke to whoever it was for several more minutes before ringing off. ‘I’m sorry, Maggie. They’ve had to call an emergency meeting at work tomorrow. They’re flying someone else in from New York and they need me to be there too. I’ll have to leave first thing in the morning.’

  ‘Oh, James!’ Rosie’s mum sounded tired and on the verge of tears.

  Rosie felt as if someone had kicked her in the stomach. She couldn’t believe it. Dad couldn’t be leaving again tomorrow – he just couldn’t!

  At that moment, she spotted Cammie sitting on the stairs, an orange flannel wrapped round him like a towel and his red hair sticking up in the air. He must have been listening too. Now he looked very determined. Before Rosie could stop him, he had flown right past her into the living room. A few seconds later her father sneezed loudly. Cammie came back out into the hall looking very pleased with himself. He winked at Rosie and ignored her whispered questions as he flew over her head back upstairs.

  By the time Rosie had followed him to her bedroom, he had disappeared behind the books on the top shelf. And when she called out his name, all she got in response was a chuckle and a muffled, ‘Fairy dust has so many uses!’

  ‘Cammie, what have you done to him?’ Rosie demanded as soon as she got back to her room after breakfast the following morning. Her father wasn’t going back to London today after all. He couldn’t because his face was covered in bright red spots.

  ‘Och, he’ll be back to normal by tonight,’ Cammie said from behind the books on his shelf. ‘I thought I’d see to it that he came to the party after all. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Good!’ Cammie’s orange hair appeared above the books and his green eyes looked at her mischievously. ‘Now we’d better go and visit old Flora and treat her to a bit of fairy dust too. That might get her in the mood for going to the party!’

  But when they knocked on Flora’s door and wished her a happy birthday, the old lady scowled. Cammie was sitting on Rosie’s shoulder muttering to himself and rubbing his fingertips together in a mysterious manner.

  ‘You keep that fairy dust away from me, you wee rascal!’ Flora snapped, slamming the door in their faces before Rosie had even had a chance to speak.

  They knocked again but there was no reply. ‘It’s no good,’ Cammie sighed. ‘And old Flora won’t come to the party of her own free will. The last time she went to a party it was her own engagement party and that was fifty years ago.’

  ‘Engagement party?’ Rosie said. ‘But she’s never been married, has she?’

  ‘No, and that’s the reason she doesn’t like parties. Her husband-to-be didn’t turn up that day. He sent a message that he’d changed his mind about the wedding and was going off to live on the mainland instead. Some folk say that old Flora never got over it. She kept herself shut away after that and people soon stopped trying to visit because she never opened the door to them.’

  ‘Poor Miss MacPhee,’ Rosie said. She couldn’t imagine how horrible it must be to have that happen to you at your own engagement party. Rosie wondered what Flora had done after that. She must have felt really lonely. No wonder she always made such a fuss of Angus. Angus was her family really – and in a funny way, Rosie suddenly thought, so were the fairies.

  As Cammie flew off to see Snowdrop, Rosie walked slowly back to Thistle Cottage, trying to think of another way to persuade Flora to come to the party.

  That afternoon Rosie helped her mother and Mrs Mackay get the hall ready while her father stayed at home, still covered in spots. They put up the decorations her mother had made and blew up lots of coloured balloons which they pinned to the wooden beams that across the ceiling. They laid out the party drinks and some of the food and later on Mrs Mackay was going to bring sandwiches and trifle and a big birthday cake.

  ‘Have you told Flora about the party, yet?’ Mrs MacKay asked when they had finished getting everything ready.

  Rosie’s mum shook her head. ‘Rosie and I will go round and tell her now, I think. Give her some time to get rea
dy.’

  Just then, Rosie’s dad appeared in the doorway, dressed in his kilt. ‘James!’ her mum gasped. ‘Shouldn’t you be . . . ?’ She stopped short as she saw that his spots were all gone.

  ‘I feel fine now,’ he replied, smiling. ‘Must have been some kind of allergy or something. I reckon I’ll be fit enough to come to this party tonight after all.’

  ‘Dad, that’s brilliant!’ Rosie beamed, rushing over to give him a hug.

  ‘You certainly look fine!’ Mrs MacKay said, giving Rosie’s mum a wink. ‘You know, there’s something about a bonnie man in a kilt that makes a lady go a bit weak at the knees, even when you’re as old as I am. I reckon you should get your dad to ask Miss McPhee to the party, Rosie. If I know her, she’s more likely to give in if he asks her.’

  So that’s what they did. Rosie took her dad round to visit Miss MacPhee, who was a bit wary of him at first but then, to Rosie’s amazement, she actually invited them inside her cottage. She made a pot of tea and they sat in her big old-fashioned kitchen chatting about the island and the wildlife, and Rosie’s dad told Miss MacPhee about the huge ginger cat he’d had as a boy who had been nearly as handsome as Angus.

  Finally, her dad took old Flora’s hand and asked, very politely, ‘Miss McPhee, the real reason for this visit is to ask if you’d do me the honour of accompanying me to a very special occasion tonight. You see . . . Rosie has organized a party for your birthday!’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Miss MacPhee looked astounded.

  ‘She wanted it to be a surprise. A lot of the people in the village are coming and so is the Reverend Mackay and his wife and all three of his sisters. Everyone wants to celebrate your eightieth birthday with you. Please come!’

  ‘They do?’ Flora looked even more astounded. Then she scowled. ‘They want to see what I look like after all these years, more likely.’

  ‘Mrs MacKay has made this enormous birthday cake with pink icing and it’s got your name written on it in blue icing and—’ Rosie began, but Flora interrupted her.