tea.
“Not eating?” Katie asked, with a deliberate stare.
Gwen looked away.
“I’ve had too much tonight already.”
The older girl frowned but said nothing, while the others chatted around the table.
“I’ve seen many a bad storm in my day,” Mrs. Quirke stated, “but this beats all. You brought the bad weather, Gwen.”
Though she knew it was a figure of speech, Gwen winced. Not for the first time that night she wondered if the storm was fairy fury. Did she cause it?
It was later, when the spare bed was made up in Katie’s room and Gwen was almost asleep, that the other girl questioned her. Katie’s face looked grave in the candlelight.
“I don’t want to offend you, Gwen, and maybe it’s none of my business, but I’m going to ask you anyway. Are you on something? Were you meeting a drug pusher tonight?”
A strange lassitude had overcome Gwen. Her thoughts were soft and white like puffs of cotton wool. Had Katie asked for her name, she would have hesitated. But the question was more serious, though utterly absurd. While one part of Gwen wanted to laugh, she also felt like crying. Katie was acting like a big sister. She obviously cared about Gwen.
“They don’t deal in drugs,” Gwen answered slowly. “They deal in dreams. Maybe it has the same effect?”
Katie was about to demand an explanation, when Gwen ended their talk by falling asleep.
he next morning Gwen woke to find Katie in a chair by her bedside.
“This must be what a hangover feels like,” Gwen groaned.
Her throat was parched, she felt hot and achy, and her head throbbed as if it housed an orchestra of hammers and tongs.
“You mean you don’t know?” the older girl asked. Her look of concern changed to a grin.
“Nope. I’ve never taken drugs, to answer your question, and that includes alcohol. Boy, do I feel awful.”
Gwen sat up shakily.
“You had a rough night,” her friend said quietly. “Fever and bad dreams. Mam said to call the doctor if you didn’t improve today. I’m really ashamed of myself. You were acting so odd, but it didn’t occur to me that you might be coming down with something. I’m a right amadán .”
“I don’t know what that is but I’m sure you’re not.” Gwen managed to smile. “And your suspicions weren’t totally wrong. Something is going on, but not what you thought.”
A silence fell between them, resonant with unspoken questions and answers. It was obvious that Katie sensed some mystery afoot but didn’t want to burden Gwen with her curiosity. Gwen, in turn, was debating on how much she would or could say. After the fiasco at the fairy banquet, she badly needed advice. She had no idea what to do next.
“I’m going to ask you something, Katie,” she said tentatively. It was a hunch but she was thinking of Mattie, and also of Katie’s red hair. “It’ll sound crazy, but I’m not joking. Okay?”
“You’re on,” said Katie. “I’m all ears.”
“Do you believe in fairies?”
Katie’s eyes widened but to Gwen’s relief she didn’t laugh, nor did she look scornful.
“Yes,” she said simply. “Ever since I was a little girl. I still leave a saucer of cream or milk on the windowsill at night, or some wine if we have it for dinner. It’s an old tradition, a courtesy. The family thinks I’m daft, but I do it anyway.”
“Have you ever seen them?”
“No, but things happen. I’ve never told a soul.” She lowered her voice. “The Good People don’t like being talked about.”
“What kind of things?” Gwen whispered.
“Ach, well, you could put it down to fancy or coincidence. Little things. Sometimes breaches in the walls are mended overnight. And once I couldn’t find a ewe, and her with a lamb inside her. I was worried sick. Searched everywhere. It was nearly dark, and I was almost at the top of Slievecarron and still no sign of her, when I heard the music. A sweet piping sound, high up in the air. It seemed to beckon to me, so I followed
“Not eating?” Katie asked, with a deliberate stare.
Gwen looked away.
“I’ve had too much tonight already.”
The older girl frowned but said nothing, while the others chatted around the table.
“I’ve seen many a bad storm in my day,” Mrs. Quirke stated, “but this beats all. You brought the bad weather, Gwen.”
Though she knew it was a figure of speech, Gwen winced. Not for the first time that night she wondered if the storm was fairy fury. Did she cause it?
It was later, when the spare bed was made up in Katie’s room and Gwen was almost asleep, that the other girl questioned her. Katie’s face looked grave in the candlelight.
“I don’t want to offend you, Gwen, and maybe it’s none of my business, but I’m going to ask you anyway. Are you on something? Were you meeting a drug pusher tonight?”
A strange lassitude had overcome Gwen. Her thoughts were soft and white like puffs of cotton wool. Had Katie asked for her name, she would have hesitated. But the question was more serious, though utterly absurd. While one part of Gwen wanted to laugh, she also felt like crying. Katie was acting like a big sister. She obviously cared about Gwen.
“They don’t deal in drugs,” Gwen answered slowly. “They deal in dreams. Maybe it has the same effect?”
Katie was about to demand an explanation, when Gwen ended their talk by falling asleep.
he next morning Gwen woke to find Katie in a chair by her bedside.
“This must be what a hangover feels like,” Gwen groaned.
Her throat was parched, she felt hot and achy, and her head throbbed as if it housed an orchestra of hammers and tongs.
“You mean you don’t know?” the older girl asked. Her look of concern changed to a grin.
“Nope. I’ve never taken drugs, to answer your question, and that includes alcohol. Boy, do I feel awful.”
Gwen sat up shakily.
“You had a rough night,” her friend said quietly. “Fever and bad dreams. Mam said to call the doctor if you didn’t improve today. I’m really ashamed of myself. You were acting so odd, but it didn’t occur to me that you might be coming down with something. I’m a right amadán .”
“I don’t know what that is but I’m sure you’re not.” Gwen managed to smile. “And your suspicions weren’t totally wrong. Something is going on, but not what you thought.”
A silence fell between them, resonant with unspoken questions and answers. It was obvious that Katie sensed some mystery afoot but didn’t want to burden Gwen with her curiosity. Gwen, in turn, was debating on how much she would or could say. After the fiasco at the fairy banquet, she badly needed advice. She had no idea what to do next.
“I’m going to ask you something, Katie,” she said tentatively. It was a hunch but she was thinking of Mattie, and also of Katie’s red hair. “It’ll sound crazy, but I’m not joking. Okay?”
“You’re on,” said Katie. “I’m all ears.”
“Do you believe in fairies?”
Katie’s eyes widened but to Gwen’s relief she didn’t laugh, nor did she look scornful.
“Yes,” she said simply. “Ever since I was a little girl. I still leave a saucer of cream or milk on the windowsill at night, or some wine if we have it for dinner. It’s an old tradition, a courtesy. The family thinks I’m daft, but I do it anyway.”
“Have you ever seen them?”
“No, but things happen. I’ve never told a soul.” She lowered her voice. “The Good People don’t like being talked about.”
“What kind of things?” Gwen whispered.
“Ach, well, you could put it down to fancy or coincidence. Little things. Sometimes breaches in the walls are mended overnight. And once I couldn’t find a ewe, and her with a lamb inside her. I was worried sick. Searched everywhere. It was nearly dark, and I was almost at the top of Slievecarron and still no sign of her, when I heard the music. A sweet piping sound, high up in the air. It seemed to beckon to me, so I followed
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