Wolf Notes and Other Musical Mishaps (5 page)

Helen held her hand out to Emma. “Let’s go and make a noise somewhere else, shall we?”

Emma trotted along beside her to the rehearsal room in Murray Wing. It was just as messy as Yann and Sylvie had left it after their attempted
sabotage: the bookcase squint against the
armchair
; loose music all over the couch; the bent music stand flung in a corner; the ripped drums under the shelves.

Perhaps teenagers didn’t notice mess. Or perhaps they assumed someone else would tidy it up.

Helen offered Emma an intact African drum to bang and spent five minutes clearing up to the noise of elephants crossing the savannah. Helen grinned. Her own wee sister used drums for
animal
noises too.

She sat down beside the three-year-old. “What does James like to eat?”

“Birthday cake,” answered Emma, still tapping the drum.

“Cake?”

“Just birthday cake, but he doesn’t eat the candles.”

“I’m glad he doesn’t eat the candles. Does he like apples?”

“No.” Emma’s voice was firm.

“What about chocolate biscuits?”

“No. I like chocolate biscuits.” Emma smiled up at Helen.

“I’ll get you one in a minute. What
does
James eat then? Does he eat sandwiches?”

“Chocolate biscuit?”

Helen wasn’t going to get any more answers until she had produced a chocolate biscuit. She nipped into the kitchen and got Emma two chocolate biscuits.

When the little girl had finished getting chocolate all over herself and the genuine African
djembe, Helen tried again. “Does James like cheese sandwiches?”

“No.”

Helen sighed. Just her luck to have to find
lifesaving
, non-magical food for the fussiest boy in Scotland.

“Does he like jam sandwiches?”

Emma nodded. “Yes.”

Helen gave Emma a hug.

“But just jam,” Emma added. “No butter. Just jam. And bread.”

“Absolutely. You need the bread or it isn’t a sandwich. What else does James eat?”

“Birthday cake.”

Helen was right back where she’d started. “Okay. Do you like picnics, Emma?”

She brought the whole picnic bag through to the tiny three-year-old, and while Emma ate all the food her brother wouldn’t touch, Helen made another batch of sandwiches with just jam, no butter. Making a wild guess about James’s attitude to crusts, she cut them off too.

She filled a bag with jam sandwiches and nothing else; all that stood between James and a lifetime with the faeries. She hoped the lodge wouldn’t run out of jam by the end of the week.

She wiped most of the chocolate off Emma, then took her back to the cottage. Mrs McGregor and the boy had fallen asleep beside each other. Emma was yawning, so Helen laid her down at the other end of the couch.

She took another look at the sleeping James, so she would recognise the real thing tonight.

Then she headed to the old lodge for lunch and her afternoon lessons. The first couple of hours with a composer from Dublin on orchestration, arranging and improvisation passed quickly. But the music theory lesson afterwards wasn’t exciting enough to keep her mind off faeries and wolves. It was an individual lesson with Dr Lermontov, the Professor’s deputy at the summer school, the only other teacher staying for the whole week. He was a world expert on the use of harmony and counterpoint.

When Helen realized that the shiny new décor in the Doctor’s study included atmospheric photos of duns, brochs and faery mounds, she found herself staring at them over Dr Lermontov’s round
bear-like
shoulders. Really, she should be researching faery weaknesses, not thinking about four-part harmony.

“Miss Strange!” Dr Lermontov shouted.

Helen jerked round. “Strang, sir, my name is Strang, not Strange.”

“Miss Stran-ga, you must listen to me with your eyes as well as your ears if you are to learn from me. Stop looking at the walls; look at me and my manuscripts!”

So Helen followed his pen nib across the staves and tried to concentrate. It was a huge relief when he picked up his violin so they could play a duet. Dr Lermontov was a virtuoso violinist, but he was also a good enough teacher to let her play the
challenging
music and keep the supporting role for himself.

He smiled at her as they put their violins away.
“At least you concentrate totally on your violin when she is in your hands. But perhaps when I want you to concentrate on soprano, alto, tenor and bass, the call of the summer sun is stronger!”

“No,” answered Helen, “it’s the summer night that calls me.”

Dr Lermontov said, “In the north of Russia, the summer nights are so short, the sky never grows dark.”

Helen smiled back at him and took a chance. “Do you know where we’re playing on midsummer night, Dr Lermontov?”

“No, Miss Strange, I was summoned across the world to play in this concert, but even I do not know where it will be. Fay Greenhill says it will be a night to remember forever, so I will be content to see our stage and our audience when the sun goes down and not before.”

“Is that wise?”

“Wise? Wise? Artists must take risks! Anyway, it does not matter where we play nor to whom we play. In a cowshed to farmers? Or in a palace to tsars? It does not matter … so long as we play with all our hearts! The music matters, not the venue, nor the audience.”

“Nor the theory?” Helen asked quietly.

“Indeed!” He laughed a deep growly laugh. “Not the theory either, my clever strange girl. Do not worry about the concert. I trust Professor Greenhill completely. Now off you go for your tea and let the summer night come to you.”

So Helen went down the wide stairs to the dining room. For a whole hour of stilted conversation over
large plates of pasta, she gazed impatiently out of the window at the evening shadows moving slowly towards the eastern side of the glen.

She left before pudding, got the just-jam sandwiches and a bottle of water out of the kitchen, then put her violin case into the wardrobe and the rucksack on her back.

As she left, she scribbled:
Early night
on the clipboard. She didn’t claim she was in bed. She was just having an early start to her night’s adventures. So it wasn’t really a lie.

Helen reached the lightning tree slightly early for the rendezvous. She stepped into the cool shadow of the forest and found the clearing by following the faint smell of burnt bark.

She sat down, murmuring, “Who needs a wolf? There’s nothing wrong with my nose!”

“There’s nothing wrong with your nose at all, fair maiden,” said a voice in her ear. “You have a perfect nose, an alabaster complexion, the musical fingers of Orpheus, the enticing scent of jam …”

Lee stepped flamboyantly in front of her,
sweeping
a wide red hat off his head, and bowed low, his knee bent and the feather on his hat brushing her toes.

“The courage of a lion too, to come here unaccompanied.”

He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it.

Helen laughed out loud, a snort of surprise and embarrassment.

Lee dropped her hand, put the hat on his head and said in a less dramatic voice, “Oh dear. Too much?”

“Far too much!”

“So what level of charm and glamour would you be comfortable with?”

“Your normal self would be fine.”

“I don’t think I have a normal self.” He flicked his red cloak out of the way and flopped down on the ground beside her.

“Are you always playing a part?” Helen asked.

“Of course. Aren’t you?”

“No!” Helen answered firmly. Then she
wondered
. She’d played the part of a big sister this afternoon, to find out about James’s eating habits. Did she ever play any other parts? Was she always the same Helen?

Lee smiled. “So, shall I just tell you how clever and talented you are, then we can move on?”

“Alright. But no hand kissing.”

“None?”

“None at all.”

“Excellent. Let’s go and feed your stolen child.” He stood up.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others?”

“Why? You don’t think they care about your boy, do you? He doesn’t have enough legs or hair or tails for a wolf or a centaur to bother about him. Come on.”

Helen didn’t stand up. “Lee … I don’t think I should follow you into the forest on my own. I think it would be safer to wait for Yann and Sylvie.”

“Don’t you trust me?” He raised his eyebrows. “You promised to trust me!”

“I’d be very silly to trust you completely, wouldn’t I?”

He looked downcast. “Usually, it would be dangerous for a human child to trust a faery.”
Then he grinned at her. “But this summer, in this forest, I’m entirely on your side. You
can
trust me. So let’s get going.”

“Why are you on our side? Aren’t you one of the Faery Queen’s subjects?”

“No one is her subject! We’re all just guests at her endless parties. No, I am a loyal subject of …”

As his voice trailed away, Helen noticed that his red cloak had darkened to a less flattering mud-brown. She turned to see what had surprised him.

A blue dragon was shouldering through the trees. Trunks and branches were bending away from the huge body, then springing back into place over the long spiky tail.

Helen stood up, moving quickly between the faery and the dragon. “Hello, Sapphire,” she called. “Have you grown
again?
” The dragon blew a cheerful flurry of sparks at Helen, who ducked. “Wow. Your fire’s hotter too!”

Lee said, very formally, “Fair maiden, are you acquainted with this dragon?”

“Of course! She’s my biggest and warmest friend!”

Sapphire blew an arrow of sparks over Helen towards Lee. The feather on his hat caught fire. He whacked it on the ground to extinguish it.

“I think that was a warning,” said Yann briskly, emerging from behind Sapphire. “A warning not to betray us,
Lily
, or our dragon will be annoyed.”

“Your dragon,” said Lee, “has struggled to get ten trees’ depth into my forest and will get trapped
in a maze of branches if she tries to go further. I’m not afraid of her.”

Sapphire blew a real flame this time, setting a small bush on fire.

“Of course,” sighed Lee. “Trees burn.”

“Don’t burn the forest!” called Sylvie, from the other side of the dragon. “It’s not a faery forest yet.”

Suddenly a tiny lilac raincloud appeared above the flames, soaking the leaves and branches so effectively that the fire was out within seconds. The raincloud then floated through the air and started to drip carelessly on Lee’s hat. The charred feather drooped as he tried to look dignified with water running down his neck.

“Stop teasing him!” Helen grabbed Lee’s elbow and pulled him out from under the cloud. “If you keep teasing him he might not tell us how to find James. Anyway, it’s not kind or fair.”

Threads of vapour drifted away from the cloud and the purple at its centre became clearer. Helen suddenly realized who it was. “Lavender! You’re doing even fancier weather spells now! You aren’t even wet!”

The robin-sized flower fairy, a sharp sparkle of blonde hair and purple satin, landed gracefully on Helen’s hand. “Sapphire and I came as soon as Yann sent a message saying the Faery Queen wanted to steal our favourite fiddler.”

“Where are Rona and Catesby?” Helen looked round for the other fabled beasts she’d quested with last winter.

“Catesby’s fledgling feathers aren’t strong
enough to fly this far and the last we heard of Rona, she was following some fantastic fish towards the Arctic Circle.

“But we’re here. You have Sylvie’s teeth, Yann’s bravery, my magic and Sapphire’s fire. We will protect you, Helen.”

“Don’t worry about me. It’s James we need to protect. I’m sure your talents will be very handy, but Lee is the only one who can lead us to the boy.”

They all turned to look at the faery. Dry and dapper again, he smiled at his audience. “What an unexpected pleasure to see so many of you, but you can’t all follow me. The Faery Queen might let Helen feed her hostage, but it would be
foolishly
provocative to approach her domain with all your clattering, howling and sparking. So …” he shrugged regretfully, grinning cheerfully at the same time, “I think I should take Helen to the boy by myself.”

“No!” A variety of voices yelled in disagreement.

“If you don’t want someone big or noisy to come with us,” Helen said to Lee, “why doesn’t Lavender come?” Helen would feel safer
approaching
the lands of a powerful magical being with someone she truly trusted by her side or, at least, by her ear.

Lee glanced at Lavender. “Ah yes … the
raindrop
fairy. What other party tricks does she do? Sneaking under pillows for teeth? Performing in pantomimes and puppet shows?” He shrugged. “Bring her if you like, no one will notice.”

“If you betray Helen to that harpie of a Queen,
then you will notice me and my power, you foppish feather-thief,” Lavender shouted. Lee cupped his hand round his ear, as if he couldn’t quite hear her.

Lavender snorted and flew to Helen’s right shoulder.

“I don’t clatter or spark. I shall come too,” announced Sylvie.

“No,” said Lee. “Three is enough.”

“This is my forest and if you don’t take me, I will follow you. You would far rather have me walk where you can see me, faery, than have me creep up behind you.”

Lee sighed extravagantly. “Very well. Four of us. But we stay hidden when we get there. No one looking out of the window from the faery world must see anyone but Helen. They must not even see me!”

“Why not you?” Yann demanded. “What are you afraid of, Lily-livered boy? Afraid the Queen might criticize that combination of green waistcoat and red hat?”

“No,” snapped Lee. “I’m afraid that if the Queen hears I’ve been seen with a human child and a wolf, then she might grab Helen right now, to stop the human girl creating a wider alliance among her enemies.”

He turned to Helen. “I will show you the path to the boy and the path back, but when you’re
feeding
the boy, you must stand alone. Will you trust me?”

Helen glanced round at her friends. Sylvie was scratching her grubby bandage and wouldn’t meet
Helen’s eyes. Lavender was fluttering with
indecision
. Sapphire shrugged her massive blue
shoulders
. Yann gave a tight smile, “It’s up to you whom you trust, Helen.”

She was aware of the daylight fading into a
summer
evening and, keen to get the food she’d made that morning to James as soon as possible, she said, “Right. Those of us who’re going … let’s go.” She waved a nervous goodbye to the dragon and the centaur, as Lee led them past the beech tree, deeper into the forest.

Moving through the dark trees was more of a struggle than a stroll. There were no paths, the ground was broken up by rocks and roots, and the forest was growing on slopes as steep as the
mountains
on the other side of the glen.

The thick summer leaves blocked the evening light, but it was never completely dark under the trees; there was always a rocky outcrop, stretch of water or fallen tree letting patches of brightness through.

From the lodge, Dorry Shee looked like a simple pine forest, but Helen was pushing past birches, oaks and rowans, and crushing purple foxgloves, pink roses and yellow buttercups.

The forest was beautiful, but the walk was no fun at all. To keep up with Lee, Helen was forcing her way under low branches and past thorny bushes, with the constant chatter of Lavender in her ear, updating Helen on the latest magic she’d learnt, fabulous dresses she’d tried, new songs their friend Rona had written. But the fairy kept losing her way in the middle of sentences and repeating herself.

Then Helen remembered. “Lavender, are you afraid of Lee? Is that why you’re nervous? You did once say to me forest faeries could eat flower fairies in one mouthful. Were you serious? Do you really think he would eat you?”

“Probably not,” admitted Lavender. “Not unless someone dared him to.”

“But are you afraid of him?”

“Of course, but he’s afraid of me too. The faery folk have been showing off for so long that
everyone
knows their powers and their limitations. If you put together all the faery stories, you can get the measure of their magic. They’re lazy too, so they’re still relying on the magic created by their ancestors.”

They emerged from a thorny thicket into a flat stretch of tall pines. Everyone moved much faster.

Lavender kept chattering. “We flower fairies keep most of our magic hidden and we’re always
learning
new magic. So I know
how
he is dangerous and that’s why I’m afraid of him; but he has no idea what I can do and that’s why he’s afraid of me.”

“Is he afraid?” Helen looked at the confident figure swinging his cloak as he strode through the trees. Apart from the moment when he saw the dragon, Lee seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. “He doesn’t look afraid.”

“He’s terrified,” said Lavender. “Can’t you tell? That’s why his clothes keep fading. But he’s not just scared of us. He’s afraid of something else too. He would much rather not be here at all. Faeries rarely bother to do something they don’t want to do. I wonder what’s keeping him here?”

“Let’s not ask him now. If we ask him awkward questions, he might abandon us in the forest with no idea how to get home.”

The light was fading above them; the shadows around the trees were getting blacker. Helen was trying to follow Lee’s colourful cloak, while
watching
her own footing on the uneven ground.

Then she stepped out into a blaze of light. She could see the whole of the deep blue sky above her. She smiled at the sudden bright space and air. Then Lee gestured for her to go into the clearing without him.

They were near the window to the faeries’ world and Helen had to go on alone.

She stared at the clearing ahead of her. She didn’t glance back; she didn’t see the low grey blur of a wolf pack slipping through the trees behind them.