One Wish by Michelle Harrison Page A

them, just to know that it’s not only me. That I’m not . . .’
    ‘Mad?’ Ratty finished.
    ‘Yes.’ She felt her face reddening. ‘Because sometimes it’s easier to think you are mad than to have no one that believes you.’
    They both fell silent. Outside, a breeze ruffled the trees and sent whispers around the camper van. With the sunlight streaming in, it was peaceful now, but in the dark, Tanya suspected, it would feel quite different.
    ‘Don’t you get scared being out here at night?’ she asked.
    ‘Not any more,’ said Ratty. ‘I used to, when I was younger. But we move around a lot. We don’t always stay in places like this. Sometimes it’ll be on a cliff top where you can see for miles, and when it’s dark all you can see are the stars. Or maybe we’ll stop on a road by the beach. On those nights the only thing you can hear is the sea. It depends where we are, which town we’re in.’
    ‘How long will you be in Spinney Wicket?’
    ‘Until Pa gets bored, I suppose,’ said Ratty. ‘We never stay in any place for very long.’
    ‘You just go wherever and whenever he decides?’ Tanya asked. She couldn’t imagine living such a life, travelling on a whim. It sounded romantic, like something out of a fairy tale.
    Ratty smiled faintly. ‘He says we go wherever the wind is blowing.’
    ‘It must be an adventure.’
    ‘Sometimes it is,’ he agreed. ‘Other times, when the roof is leaking and the wind is howling all night, making the van rock, I think how nice it must be to have a proper home. To be able to keep the friends I make.’
    ‘Do you make many?’ Tanya asked. She found this difficult to believe, given how rude Ratty had been when they had first met that morning. Perhaps she had just caught him off guard. He had been speaking to a tree after all.
    ‘A few,’ said Ratty. He sounded sad all of a sudden. ‘But none of them will remember me.’
    She frowned. ‘I’m sure they do.’
    Ratty opened his mouth to reply, but was distracted by something on the shelf above their heads. He reached up behind the photograph of himself and his father, and withdrew a small, red envelope that was tucked behind it.
    ‘This must be from Pa,’ he muttered. ‘I didn’t see it before.’
    Tanya stared again at the man in the picture, but then found her attention drawn to a glass jar next to the photograph. She hadn’t paid much attention to it before as its contents were so nondescript, but now she found there was something about the jar that was bothering her. It was jammed full of odds and ends: a page torn from a book, a girl’s hairslide, a ribbon, a struck match, and lots of other things that were jumbled up and which she couldn’t see properly.
    ‘What’s all that stuff?’ she asked.
    Ratty looked up from the envelope. There was a little crease between his eyebrows. ‘That? Oh, nothing. Just stuff that’s been lying around the van. Pa hangs on to things in case they come in handy.’
    Tanya peered at the jar. There was something about Ratty’s voice she didn’t believe. ‘How can a struck match be useful?’
    ‘Exactly!’ Ratty laughed, but it sounded false. ‘That’s what I always say to him. It’s just junk. It needs throwing out.’
    Tanya’s eyes narrowed. In such a small living space, where everything was so neat and ordered, and where space was so tight, it seemed very unlikely that a jar of such useless items would be kept. That was what bothered her about it. She pondered whether to voice her thoughts to Ratty, but decided against it. There didn’t seem much point and, besides, something odd was happening.
    Turpin had sidled across the table and was now gazing up at her. It was making Tanya nervous.
    ‘What’s the matter with her?’ she asked Ratty. ‘Why is she looking at me like that?’
    ‘She likes your hair,’ Ratty explained. ‘She just told me.’
    ‘She did?’ Tanya stared back at Turpin doubtfully. The fairy nodded and gave a sickly sweet grin,