Scarlett by Cathy Cassidy

Author:Cathy Cassidy
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Europe, Social Issues, Families, Stepfamilies, Family, Dysfunctional families, Juvenile Fiction, Family problems, Family life - Ireland, Family Life, General, History, Parents, Country life - Ireland, Country life, Ireland, People & Places, Fiction, Lifestyles, Adolescence
ISBN: 9780670060689
Publisher: Viking
Published: 2006-10-19T08:31:54+00:00

Later, Kian walks me home along the lane, leading Midnight behind us. He’s stuck a sprig of velvet-green leaves behind my ear, so the whole world smells fresh and cool and good enough to eat, and he’s picking fuchsia flowers from the hedgerow, showing me how to suck the sweet juice from their bell-like centres. ‘Fairy food,’ he says.

‘Yeah, right,’ I laugh. ‘You don’t believe in fairies!’

‘Not the storybook kind, obviously.’ Kian grins. ‘That’s kid’s stuff. There’s definitely something to it, though – this is Ireland, after all!’

‘You’re crazy!’

‘Not at all,’ Kian says. ‘Did you never wonder where all those stories began? Will I tell you? They began right here. Long ago, there lived a people who were tall and bright and brave. They knew so much about the land and the sky and the sea that they were just about immortal. Then, one day, invaders came, a few at first, and then so many there could be no stopping them. They were ordinary folk, farmers, fishermen, soldiers, and they became the Irish people.’

‘What happened to the first lot?’ I ask.

‘They couldn’t leave and they wouldn’t fight,’ Kian tells me. ‘So they decided to live alongside the newcomers, but hidden away, like shadows. It was like two worlds existing alongside each other, one real, one magical. The ordinary people could sense they were there, and sometimes they’d leave offerings, ask for favours, especially at places where the veil between the two worlds was thin. That’s what the wishing tree is all about.’

My eyes are wide. ‘You’re winding me up, right?’ I ask. ‘You don’t really expect me to believe that rubbish? No way!’

Kian laughs. ‘Aw, c’mon, everybody’s got to believe in a little bit of magic!’

He takes my hand and squeezes it tight, and I think of rainbows, the lough glinting in the moonlight, a dark-velvet sky sprinkled with stars. I think of a boy with tanned skin, raggedy hair, a boy who laughs and takes risks and tells tall stories, and I know that there’s more than one kind of magic.

‘See you, Scarlett,’ Kian whispers, and I slip inside the gate with mint and fuchsia flowers in my hair, a smile as wide as Lough Choill.

Holly is on the tyre swing, her back to me, her hair in bunches flying out behind her. She looks like something out of a TV ad for washing powder, squeaky clean and seriously cute. Then she looks over her shoulder and I see that she’s been at my make-up. She has painted her lips black, streaked purple blusher across her freckled cheeks. Scary.

‘Hi, Scarlett!’ she shouts, waving.

‘Hi, Holls!’ I look over my shoulder, but there’s no sign of Kian or Midnight. They have melted away, disappeared back into the woods.

I wander inside, pulling the mint and the fuchsias from my hair to bunch up like a posy.

Clare is at the sink, rinsing strawberries from the garden. She puts the fruit down to rub her back and I try hard to hate her, dislike her even, but somehow I can’t.

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