Spindle(43)

Briar took another step back. “Who are you and what are you really doing here?” She strained her ears to pinpoint where the children were in case she had to flee with them. “What do you want with the children?”

Fanny dropped the petal and put her hands on her hips. “I’m disappointed you would ask. I love those wee babes. I’m here to watch over them while Prudence is…is gone. I can assure you they are safe with me.” She blinked rapidly as moisture flooded her eyes.

“Does Nanny know what you are?”

“Yes.”

“And it doesn’t concern her that you’re a…a…?” Briar couldn’t even say it. Fairy.

“I have no secrets with your Nanny. She accepts me the way I am, though I suspect she wishes I were a touch more responsible, among other things.”

“What else can you do?”

“I’m not about to perform tricks for you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Fanny scowled. “I’m a fairy, not a circus act.”

Briar didn’t know how to process this information. “How am I to go back to town tomorrow, knowing what I do now?”

Fanny frowned. “I’ve been here for weeks. You see how the children are happy? Fed? Growing like flowers themselves? Be off with you like normal and be content that I am managing them well.”

Her tone had gone from wounded to irritated. But it didn’t matter how Fanny felt. What mattered was the children and their well-being. How could Briar leave them with a creature known for its unpredictability?

Briar blinked. A creature? Fanny, in the flesh, standing in front of her with arms crossed and foot tapping, waiting for Briar to make up her mind.

What were those fairy stories Mam told? Mostly ones of mischief, the likes of games little boys played. Some older folks talked of the potato famine as being a fairy curse, even though the true source was found.

Laughter floated in on the wind, cutting into Briar’s thoughts. Benny giggling. Pansy shrieking good-naturedly. Obviously, the children were very happy with Fanny taking care of them. “You haven’t—” Briar waved her hands over the rose petals. “In front of the children?”

“Oh, no. Of course not. I freshen things up when they’re sleeping. They haven’t seen a thing, the dears, though they would love it. Prudence made me promise not to do anything in front of them. I don’t know why, though. The children have no problem with fairies, it’s always the grown-ups.” She rose up on her toes and looked guiltily to the side.

Briar twisted her lips. Fanny may not have purposely shown the children magic, but she knew they had still seen. “How long until Prudence gets back?”

Fanny shifted her feet. “I thought she’d be back by now. I suppose she’s slowing down in her old age. Or there was a problem. But a problem for Prudence would be highly unlikely, don’t you agree? She’s practically perfect. Her friendship with someone like me stretches her very being. I am a bit of a rarity.”

Fanny’s description of herself was an understatement. “Can’t you tell me what Prudence is doing? It has to be serious if she sent…you…to take her place. Is it her family?”

Fanny paused. “Does she talk about her family?”

“She’s mentioned her sisters. Is that where she’s gone?”

Fanny let out a deep breath. “Yes. One of her sisters got into trouble and she’s helping. See, you don’t have to be worried about the children. It’ll all work out.”

Briar closed her eyes. She’d seen two strange things today that she couldn’t explain. First the spindle fitting itself into her spinning frame, and now Fanny claiming to be a reallive fairy and restoring a rose petal to full bloom.

Fanny smiled and clapped once. “Why don’t we let you think on this for tonight and we’ll talk again in the morning. In case there’s something you’d like to tell me. About your interest in fairy wood—or anything else.” She left Briar gaping in the doorway while she went to round up the children for supper.

All night Briar’s attention was glued to Fanny while the children told her about the silly antics of the new animals. They’d named them all, of course, and fought over who got to visit the chicken (named Betty) in the morning to see if there was an egg. Briar studied every motion, every breath. But nothing revealed who or what Fanny claimed to be. And how did ever-practical Nanny make room for the presence of fairies in her life? She didn’t even like flowers.

“Why are you going to sleep at the same time as us?” asked Pansy. She was lying on her pallet, head cradled in her hands and watching Briar toss and turn.

“I’m tired.” Briar’s whole body was weary and she hoped sleep would take all the strangeness away for a time. She’d be better able to think things through in the morning.

“You don’t act sleepy,” said Jack.

“Sorry, I’ll settle in a minute.” Briar flipped over one last time so she could watch Fanny bustle about the cottage. A real fairy?

Once the children’s breaths relaxed into the regular pattern of sleep, Briar pulled out the whorl from her pocket, keeping it under the sheet. She ran her fingers over the carved roses. It was so smooth; someone had taken great care when carving the wood. When Fanny slipped outside, Briar peeked under the sheet to study the whorl. A faint scorch mark marred one of the roses. Briar wondered what had happened to it. Where exactly had this spindle come from?