Philippa Fisher and the Dream-Maker's Daughter (6 page)

We spent the afternoon back at the cottage playing Scrabble. Two
T
s, an
S,
and a
G
were missing, so we had to make some letters out of cardboard. It took the mystery out of the game a little, especially if you had a word like
sting,
but it was better than sitting and watching the rain.

“It’s got to stop at some point,” Mom said, glancing out the window as she placed her tiles on the board.
“Heart,”
she said. “On a double word. That’s sixteen.”

Dad wrote down her score, then went back to frowning at his letters. I sat twitching in my seat — partly out of boredom and partly because something was tickling my foot. It felt as if there was something in my shoe, tickling my toes. I reached down to pull my shoe off so I could scratch my foot.

“Phewey, what’s that smell?” Dad said with a wink.

“I’ve got something in my shoe.” It felt like sand. Where had that come from?

Mom got up to poke the logs, ruffling Dad’s hair on her way past him. Dad had lit a fire when we came in, and it was starting to die down. “Tell you what,” Mom said. “You choose what we do tomorrow, and we’ll do it whether it rains or shines.”

“Maybe we could go swimming?” I said, putting my shoe back on and wiping the sandy grains on my sleeve.

“Grand idea,” Dad said, shuffling the tiles on his rack. “If it’s raining, anyway. I imagine you’ll want to get out and about if it’s sunny, won’t you?”

“I guess so,” I said. So much for doing whatever I wanted, rain or shine.

To be honest, what I really wanted was to find out where Robyn lived and see if she was all right. I kept thinking about the way her dad had dragged her out of the pottery shop, how angry he’d been. It made anything embarrassing my parents had ever done seem like small fry.

I wondered if I’d get to see her again while we were here, or if he’d keep her trapped at home for the rest of the week.

As I thought about it and waited for my turn, I snuggled into my chair. The fire was roaring now — so cozy and warm. I closed my eyes. Just for a second. Just to rest my eyelids.

Next thing I knew, I was dreaming. We were playing Scrabble, but the board had disappeared. I had lots of letters on my rack, but as I watched them, they flew off the rack and started spinning around. They were forming a word.

W-I-N-D-O-W.

I started adding up how many points I’d get for it. Two
W
s. Didn’t they score four points each?

Then more letters came out of nowhere, spinning around my bed.

O-P-E-N.

Before I had a chance to see what the rest of the tiles said, Mom was shaking my shoulder.

I jolted awake. “Sorry!” I said, straightening myself up in my chair. I looked at my tiles. No
W
s. No good letters at all, in fact.

“Come on, dreamer, it’s your turn,” Dad said, adding
BE
to the
E
from Mom’s word.
“Bee!”
he announced. “Five points!” Then he raised his fist like a champion. “Oh, yes! Beat that if you can!”

Mom laughed. “It’s going to be a long game,” she said.

Going up to bed that night, a quiver ran through me. What if I had another nightmare? I looked at the bed and remembered tossing and turning half the night, the panic and sorrow I’d felt in my sleep. I didn’t want to go through all that again.

I read a book until my eyes were so tired the words blurred into black smudges on the page. Switching off the light, I lay looking up at the ceiling, at the feathered charm dangling above me, the shard of glass still lodged in its middle, glinting and winking every now and then as it slowly turned above my head. It was like a hypnotist’s pendant waving in front of my eyes, emptying my mind and luring me into a heavy, sleepy state. “You are in my power. . . .”

Soon I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and I felt myself drift off to sleep.

So many stairs. How long have I been climbing them? How many are there?

One, two, three . . . six, seven . . . thirteen, fourteen. Have I missed any? There are still so many to go. I keep climbing, and with each step my heart grows heavier.

I can see the room ahead. The door. The light shining from underneath. I’ve got to get to the light. She’s inside. I can see her. My chest heaves with desperation — I can’t explain it, don’t understand it. All I know is that the feeling of total aloneness is taking me over, and the only way I’ll ever feel better is if I can get to the light, somehow get beyond the door, find her. How can I get the door open? I have to get inside. Please, please let me in!

The light’s fading.

No! Don’t fade — don’t go!

PLEASE!!

I woke up crying silently, my body shaking in the darkness, the feeling of grief and loneliness so fierce it was almost a physical pain.

What on earth was the matter with me? OK, so I’d lost two best friends this year, and I didn’t have anyone to replace them — yet. But I would soon. I’d met lots of new girls this semester. Sooner or later, I’d become best friends with one of them. Things weren’t that awful. Certainly not so bad that I needed to have terrifying dreams about being deserted!

I tried to talk myself out of the horrible mood the dream had left behind. I thought about what Charlotte would say. She’d probably laugh at me, tell me I was being a drama queen. She’d pull me out of it.

Or would she? Sure, she’d make me feel embarrassed for being so silly, and it would make me want to stop talking about it. But that didn’t mean the feelings would go away. Maybe there were some things you couldn’t simply laugh out of existence.

I thought about Robyn again. I wondered if she’d understand. Probably not. And I wasn’t likely to find out, either. Even if I did happen to see her again this week, you don’t exactly go around discussing your innermost thoughts and feelings with someone you’ve just met.

I turned over and tried to get back to sleep. But my eyes refused to close. It was too dark, too quiet, and I was too scared of what I might dream about. I couldn’t bear to feel that awful sadness again.

The charm dangled above my head, twinkling as it turned slowly. Thoughts in my head spun and twirled with it. I was thinking about all the things we’d done today, the shop, the Scrabble game that had gone on for hours. The dream I’d had when I fell asleep in front of the fire.

The dream! Suddenly I was wide awake. The letters — the words.
WINDOW
and
OPEN.
They’d been spinning around my bed — this bed. My imagination was working overtime. Maybe it had been some kind of premonition! A command, something telling me to open my window!

I knew it was just wishful thinking as usual, but I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind. And anyway, I was starting to feel hot and claustrophobic. That did it. I got up and opened the window.

As I climbed back into bed, I knocked into the charm spinning above me, and it fell from the beam. Tired and irritable, I grabbed it and shoved it in the bedside drawer.

Please, no more nightmares,
I whispered to no one in particular. Then I closed my eyes and fell instantly asleep.

“Philippa.”

Someone was shaking my shoulder.

“Philippa,” the voice whispered again.

“Mom, please let me sleep a bit longer,” I mumbled. “It feels like the middle of the night.”

“It
is
the middle of the night,” the voice replied. “And it’s not your mom!”

I was still dreaming. I must have been, because I knew whose voice that was, and it couldn’t possibly be her!

I opened an eye. It
couldn’t
be!

I rubbed my eye. She was still there! In front of me, kneeling next to the bed, smiling at me, her green eyes shining in the darkness; her curly blond hair white and frizzy around her head, lit up by the sliver of moonlight tilting in through the window; her wings, soft and delicate, disappearing into her shoulder blades as I focused my gaze on her. It was really, truly her!

“Daisy!” I blurted out.

“Shhh,” she said, looking around anxiously. “You’ll wake your parents!”

“Daisy!” I said again, trying to whisper. “It’s really you! It’s really, really you!”

She nodded. “It’s really me,” she said, standing up and opening her arms wide, as if to show me with a grand flourish that she really had just materialized in my bedroom — after so long without the slightest hint of her.

I was about to leap out of bed and give her a huge hug when I stopped myself. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” I said flatly. “This isn’t real. You’re not real, are you?”

“Try me,” she said.

What was there to lose? If I was dreaming, at least I was dreaming about Daisy and not about some terrifying grief and a bright light that broke my heart every time I tried to reach it.

I jumped out of bed and threw my arms around her. She felt real! It all felt real!

“You are, aren’t you? You’re real!” I said. “I’m
not
dreaming!”

“No, you’re not dreaming,” she replied, and we jumped up and down, spinning in circles as we hugged and laughed.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I said when we’d finally calmed down. I sat on the bed, and Daisy perched on the edge of it. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I did, too. It’s very unusual to see a client twice.”

“A client?” I said, my heart plummeting in my chest. Was that how she saw me? After everything we’d gone through together, I was still just a job to her?

“I didn’t mean it like that!” she said quickly. “I just mean that once you’ve done an assignment with someone, that’s usually it. You never see them again.”

“So how come you’re here, then?” I asked. “Is it for another assignment?” I couldn’t hide my disappointment that she might be here for work, not because she wanted to see me.

Daisy shifted uncomfortably. “It doesn’t matter why I’m here, or why you’re here, or anything, does it? Surely all that matters is that we get to see each other again!”

“So you
are
here for a job?”

Daisy ran a hand through her hair and lowered her voice. “Look, I can’t talk about it. It’s kind of — well, let’s just say I managed to mix business with pleasure!”

I couldn’t help feeling let down. I didn’t want to be “business.” I wanted her to be here just because she was my friend. I wanted to hang out together and catch up on everything that had been going on in the last few months.

“I’m in a new department now,” Daisy went on. “They’re being really strict with me, so I have to be careful.” She scurried over to the window and looked out before closing it behind her. “I’m taking a huge risk just by being here — but I had to see you!”

“Really?”

“Of course, really! You’re my best friend, and I haven’t seen you for months. I’ve missed you like crazy.”

Daisy had called me her best friend! I tried to conceal a smile, but I don’t think I did it very well. The disappointment melted away. “I’ve missed you, too!” I said.

Daisy smiled, and her cheeks turned pink. “Tell me things!” she said. “What have you been doing? How have you been? I want to know everything!”

I thought about the last few months. I hadn’t really done much at all that felt worth reporting. “Been to school, done some magic in the tree house — that’s about it,” I said, adding silently,
and had no one to share any of it with.

“How are the tricks going?” she asked.

I shrugged. I didn’t want to talk about my magic tricks. I wanted to know about her. “What have
you
been doing?” I asked. “I’m sure it’s been much more interesting than my boring old life!”

“Well, I’ve got this new job,” she said. “But I really can’t talk about it.” She made a face. “I wish I could. I’ve been wanting to tell you all about it.”

“How long have you been in the new department?”

“Just since the summer,” she said. “As soon as I got the job, I wanted to tell you. I wanted to see you. I’d been trying to work out a way for ages — and then something came up without me even planning it!”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

Daisy looked over her shoulder, as though checking that no one was there — even though she’d closed the window. She lowered her voice. “I shouldn’t tell you,” she said. “You know my assignments are top secret. And this one is even more so. But I want to share everything with you!”