One Wish (10 page)

‘It wasn’t Turpin,’ Ratty interrupted. His voice was subdued.

Tanya scoffed. ‘Stop lying. Of course it was her. That dress was brand-new; the button wouldn’t have fallen off by itself. She made sure she got close enough to me and then she took it!’

Ratty nodded. ‘She took the button,’ he admitted. ‘But only . . . only because I told her to.’ He met her eyes finally, shamefaced. ‘Turpin wasn’t the one who stole your memories, though. It . . . it was me.’

8

The Memory Weaver

‘W
HAT?’ SAID TANYA. ‘BUT HOW COULD you . . .? I don’t understand.’

‘You don’t need to understand,’ Ratty muttered. He wrapped the jar in the red cloth again and held on to it. ‘And I didn’t tell Turpin to pinch you. I just needed her to distract you while she stole the button.’

‘Excuse me,’ said Tanya. ‘But you’ve just admitted to stealing my memories. I think you owe me an explanation, and not just of how you did it, but why.’

‘None of your business!’ hissed Turpin.

‘Be quiet, you,’ Tanya snapped. ‘And stay back. If I find you so much as looking at any of my buttons again, you’re in big trouble.’ The look Turpin gave her in return made her very glad that Turpin was unable to do magic, for if she could Tanya had no doubt that she would have been transformed into a slug or something equally disgusting.

‘Talk to me, Ratty,’ she persisted. ‘Tell me why you did this.’ She tried to keep the hurt from her voice and failed. ‘I mean, why tell me all those things about fairies, and how to protect myself, if you were just going to steal away the memories anyway? What was the point of giving me the salt and the iron nail if I couldn’t remember what to do with them?’ She shook her head. ‘I found them in my pocket last night and didn’t know what they were for – I threw them in the bin.
In the bin!
When I really,
really
could have done with them to help me.’

Ratty gulped. ‘Did something . . . happen last night?’

‘The fairy under the floorboards happened,’ she said tiredly, explaining what she’d awoken to. ‘I’ve still not finished unpicking everything.’

Ratty hung his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

She stared at him, frustrated and confused. ‘Why then?’ she repeated. ‘Is it some sort of joke you and Turpin play on people you meet?’ She recalled what he had told her yesterday. ‘You said you wished you could keep the friends you made, but that none of them would remember you. It makes sense now, doesn’t it?’

Ratty remained silent, turning the jar over in his hands.

‘Those other objects in that jar,’ Tanya said. ‘I felt something when my fingers touched them. Like I was remembering lots of my dreams all at once. Only they weren’t mine. And they weren’t dreams, were they? They were bits of other people’s memories.’

Ratty’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He gave a weary nod. ‘I’m . . . I’m a memory weaver,’ he whispered at last. The words tumbled out of him, as though he’d been bottling them up for a long time. ‘I can make people forget things or I can make memories come back. I’ve always been able to do it, ever since I can remember.’

‘But how?’ Tanya asked.

‘It depends on the memory,’ Ratty said. ‘It needs an object belonging to the person to make it work – something little for a small, unimportant memory . . .’

‘Like a button,’ Tanya said slowly.

Ratty nodded. ‘Or something bigger, more personal, for memories that are deep and make a person who they are. If it’s an object that can be undone somehow, like a thread being unpicked or a match burning out, it works better.’

‘The five-pound note on the pier,’ Tanya said suddenly. ‘It wasn’t yours, was it? It
had
belonged to that other boy after all.’

Ratty nodded again.

‘So, when you picked it up and unrolled it, you made him forget and then you kept it.’

‘Yes.’

‘And what about me?’ she asked. ‘Why bother to make a friend of me at all? If you wanted me to forget you, why let me remember bits of yesterday? Why not take all my memories of you?’

‘That’s what I tried to do,’ Ratty said unexpectedly. ‘You weren’t supposed to remember me or Turpin at all, none of it.’ He nodded at the button in her hand. ‘That wasn’t enough. The memory must have been too big, too important to you, for me to take it completely. It needed something bigger.’

‘Of course it was important to me,’ Tanya whispered. ‘You were the first person I’ve ever met who can see fairies, too. Not only that, you taught me ways to protect myself. It was one of the most important things that’s ever happened to me.’ She blinked suddenly. ‘That still doesn’t make sense, though. Why allow me to create a memory you didn’t plan on letting me keep? You could have just brushed me off at the pier and told me to leave you alone. Instead, you brought me back to your camper van. Told me about Nessie Needleteeth.’

Ratty shoved his filthy hands in his pockets and stared at the ground, rolling a pebble under his boot. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I guess . . . for the same reasons you wanted to speak to me. I don’t often meet other people with the second sight, especially not my own age. I was curious about you.’

‘No.’ Tanya studied him carefully, trying to untangle truth from lies. There were both here, she was sure of it. Ratty was being honest about some things, but twisting others. She had told enough lies herself to recognise the signs in other people. ‘No. You’ve done it to other people you’ve met, like you said. Children you made friends with. That’s why they don’t remember you. But those children don’t have the second sight, do they?’ she guessed. ‘They’re just ordinary. And you make friends with them because you’re lonely.’

‘Not lonely!’ Turpin squeaked. ‘Turpin is Ratty’s friend!’ She clambered up on to Ratty’s shoulder, circling his neck with her arms.

Ratty smiled faintly. ‘Yes, you are, Turps,’ he said, patting her arm. ‘But it’s not quite the same.’

‘You’re lonely,’ Tanya continued, ‘because you move around all the time, never staying in one place for long. You want to make friends, but you can’t keep them.’ She frowned. ‘But it still doesn’t make sense why you’d take their memories of you.’ She was missing something here, some obvious clue, but her mind jumped ahead. ‘With me it was different. When you said you were curious about me, you were telling the truth. But if you had planned on taking my memory of you, you wouldn’t have bothered to tell me how to protect myself or given me ways to do it.’

She knew she was on to something here, because Ratty’s tanned face was suddenly looking grey.

‘Something must have happened to make you change your mind about me,’ she said. ‘That’s why you got Turpin to steal the button. You hadn’t planned on it from the start, had you?’

Ratty remained silent.

Tanya cast her mind back, trying to think of things she might have said or done that could have influenced his decision, but she couldn’t come up with anything. Ratty had done most of the talking anyway, and he had seemed fine up until . . .

‘The envelope,’ she said. ‘The red one, on the shelf. After you found it, that’s when you started to act strangely and then Turpin climbed up and stole my button. Something about that envelope made you decide that I had to forget you.’ She paused, waiting for him to respond, but still he said nothing. He didn’t need to; the expression on his face confirmed she was right.

‘You’re in trouble, aren’t you?’ said Tanya. ‘That’s why you and your father keep moving from place to place, and why you don’t let the friends you make remember you. I’m right, aren’t I?’

Ratty gave a faint nod, his face ashen, while Turpin scowled at Tanya.

‘Poking its nose where it’s not wanted!’ she said.

Tanya ignored her. ‘What was in that envelope, Ratty? What’s so bad that you have to keep running from it?’

Ratty unbuttoned his top pocket, his hand shaking. From it, he pulled out the red envelope, now crumpled and grubby. He scanned the meadow, making sure they were alone before he took out a sheet of red paper. For the first time, Tanya was able to see his eyes clearly. They were bloodshot, as though he had been awake all night.

Tanya took the paper, suddenly nervous. Even though Ratty had only opened it yesterday, the paper was limp, as though it had been folded and unfolded a great many times. She opened it and began to read.

Henry,

If this letter is in your hands, it means that my worst fears have come true and that we are both in trouble. Big trouble. You’ve asked me many times to tell you the truth about the reason we move around so much. That time has come.

You see, the reason we have to keep moving is you, or rather your ability. Not the second sight, the other one. Years ago, your ability was used against someone very dangerous to remove a memory, a memory which must never be recovered.

At the time, you were so young that you had no idea of the importance of what you had done, nor of the consequences. But the owner of that memory realised something had been stolen and that it was you who took it.

That person is looking for us and they want the memory back at any cost. That’s why we’ve been running ever since it happened. Now, I believe, we’ve been found. If we have, it’s probably me that’s been recognised. We have one thing in our favour, which is that you were only a small child when it happened, and you’ve grown and changed over the years. Alone, you might go unnoticed.

The next part of this letter is extremely important and you must follow these instructions exactly.

1. You must not use your ability unless it’s absolutely necessary. You’ve always known this, but now it’s more important than ever – you never know who might be watching.

2. Get rid of any objects linked to memories. Hide them in a place that they’re unlikely to ever be found.

3. Wait for me for one day after receiving this letter. There’s a small chance I’m wrong and that we haven’t been discovered, in which case I’ll come back for you. Until I’ve investigated further, I won’t know for sure.

4. Make sure you and the van are protected at all times. This means not removing any charms from windows or doors, not even for Turpin.

5. If I don’t return after one day, pack a bag with food and clothes and leave the van. Go to the place we went to on our first night in this town – the place I could tell a story about. There you’ll find instructions on what to do and where to go next.

6. Trust no one and nothing, except for your instincts. Even then, question.

7. Once you’ve committed this letter and the instructions to memory, burn it.

I pray I’m wrong about this and that by tonight we’ll be sitting by the campfire, telling stories like we always have. Of course, I’ll have some explaining to do, but I knew that day would come eventually.

Remember: you must follow these instructions EXACTLY. Your life may depend on it.

Pa.

Tanya read the letter twice, then handed it back. ‘Crikey, Ratty,’ she said at last. ‘What on earth was this memory you took?’

‘That’s just it,’ Ratty said in a low voice. ‘I don’t know. It must have happened so long ago that I don’t even remember myself. There’s lots of things it could have been . . . but . . .’ His voice trailed off. He opened the envelope again and reached into it. ‘He left these, too. Four-leaf clovers and fairy coins.’

Tanya looked at the coins closely. They were silver and a mixture of sizes. She picked one up. One side showed a tree in full bloom, the other the same tree minus its leaves and fruit. ‘Why has he left these and the clovers?’

‘Always good to have something to bargain with,’ said Turpin. ‘Four-leaf clovers are very powerful. Can be used in magic.’

Tanya handed the coin back. ‘Why haven’t you destroyed the letter yet? You’ve obviously read it a hundred times.’

‘I have.’ Ratty put the coins and clovers into the envelope again. ‘But the words won’t go in.’

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.

‘What Pa told me to,’ Ratty said, his voice dry. ‘He said to wait for a day. He . . . he never came back last night, so, if he doesn’t return tonight, then . . .’

‘Then he’s right,’ Tanya finished. She frowned suddenly. ‘There’s just one thing I don’t understand. You decided to take my memory of you before you’d even read the letter. Why?’

Ratty nodded. ‘Pa’s left notes for me before,’ he explained. ‘But never in a red envelope. We’ve always used it as a warning code; if something is red, it’s there for protection. That’s how I knew something was wrong before I’d read it.’

‘And so you decided to protect yourself,’ Tanya finished.

‘Pa said not to trust anyone in his letter,’ Ratty said miserably. ‘But he’s always said that anyway. That’s why I stop people from remembering me.’

‘Wouldn’t it be easier not to make friends in the first place?’ Tanya asked.

‘Maybe,’ he agreed. ‘Pa doesn’t like me to get involved with people. He tells me that we should keep ourselves to ourselves. He . . . he doesn’t know that I like to make friends, when I can.’ He looked guilty again. ‘Every time I remove a memory, I’m taking a risk. Pa would be so angry if he knew. If we’ve been found, then it could be my fault. Maybe I’m to blame for Pa going missing. Every time I do it, I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help myself.’

‘I can see why,’ Tanya said softly. ‘I know what it’s like not to have friends. People need friends. Life’s not much fun without them.’ She hesitated. ‘And sometimes people need to trust. But I think you know that already. You want to trust me. That’s why you let me read the letter.’

Ratty raked his fingers through his hair. ‘You’re right. I do want to, but I can’t.’ He stared at her. ‘For all I know, you’re something to do with it all. You could be a spy for whoever is looking for me.’

Tanya considered this. She could have been offended, but she wasn’t. ‘I see what you mean. You’re right to be suspicious of me, because all this must be to do with the fairies, or someone who can see them. Otherwise, your pa wouldn’t have mentioned you protecting yourself and the van, or used a red envelope. But I’ve got an idea. I need a knife, or something sharp, and something to tie with – a bit of string perhaps. Do you have anything?’