Philippa Fisher and the Dream-Maker's Daughter (5 page)

Annie stroked Robyn’s hair. “I know. I just wanted to see you,” she said with a quick smile. “Was your father OK about you coming over?”

Robyn shrugged as she fiddled with the dog tags around her neck. “I said I was going for a walk.”

Annie lowered her voice. I could still hear her, though. Everyone else had gone quiet except the toddler, who was happily chatting away to himself. “He doesn’t know you’re here? Robyn —”

“He’s fine.” Robyn waved Annie’s concern away with a flick of her hand. “Probably glad to get rid of me,” she added with what sounded to me like a false laugh. “I think he’s already sick of me being around so much — and fall break has only just begun.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I was trying to help him get a new system going in the shop. You know what it’s like in there nowadays.”

“No, not really. I haven’t been in there for the last year,” Annie said tightly. “You know that.”

“Well, anyway, I only wanted to help, but he said I was getting in the way. He told me to get out from under his feet. So I’m sure he won’t even miss me.”

Annie’s face turned even more serious. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“Honestly, it’s fine. He doesn’t know I’m here, and there’s no reason why he’ll find out.”

Annie thought for a moment. “Just this once, then,” she said. “You know I prefer him to know when you meet up with me, even if he doesn’t like it.” Then the warmth crept back into her eyes as she took Robyn’s hand and led her to the counter at the back of the shop. “Come on, then. Let’s fetch you an apron, and you can get started.” She pointed to the table where Mom and Dad were sitting. “We’ve got a new family in today. Maybe you could help them. This is Mr. and Mrs. Fisher, and this is their daughter, Philippa.”

I looked up from the book. “Hi,” I said with an awkward wave.

“Oh, hi,” Robyn said back, glancing briefly across, as though she hadn’t even realized I was there till now.

“Why don’t you help Philippa choose some good colors?” Annie suggested, pushing Robyn in my direction.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I said. She’d come here to see Annie, not to get stuck with some girl she’d only just met!

“It’s fine,” Robyn said. She grabbed a couple more books and pointed at a table in the opposite corner from Mom and Dad. “Come on. Let’s sit here.”

We thumbed through the books in silence for a bit. After a while, I started to feel stupid. I didn’t know what to paint, I couldn’t decide which colors to use, and now I couldn’t think of anything to say, either.

I sneaked a look at Robyn over the top of the books. I could feel myself getting worked up. Why did we have to get saddled with each other? She was the kind of girl I had nothing in common with. I could tell just by looking at her. She probably liked to talk about clothes and makeup and jewelry. Things I had no interest in. I knew the type. They wore the right outfits and had the right friends. I’d learned before not to try to get in with them. It wasn’t worth the trouble.

I wished we didn’t have to work together. Why couldn’t I just sit with my parents?

I tried to look at the books and not to feel awkward about the silence that was sitting between us like a wall.

A moment later, Annie was by our table, and the wall crumbled down.

“Come on, you two — why don’t you just grab a couple of mugs and go for it?”

I looked at Robyn. “OK,” she said. I followed her silently to the mug shelf.

Robyn picked a china cup with a long, thin handle that tapered daintily down the side. I chose a stocky round one with a big fat chunky handle. It was satisfying and solid to hold. Perfect for hot chocolate. Shame we didn’t have perfect hot chocolate to go in it.

Annie was still hovering. “So. What are you going to paint?”

I stared at my mug and didn’t reply. What was the matter with me? Just because I had to work with someone who probably had a million things she’d rather do than hang out with me didn’t mean I had to turn into a mute. But Robyn seemed to have done the same thing.

“Why don’t you just say the first things you can think of?” Annie suggested.

I looked at my chunky mug. “An elephant!” I said after a while.

“Good! Robyn?”

Robyn shrugged. “A giraffe?”

Annie turned back to me.

“A gingerbread house,” I said.

“A skyscraper!” Robyn countered.

I examined my mug again. “I know. A forest.” I could see it now. Big, thick trees all around it, the sun peeking through. Just like the view out of the French windows back at the cottage — when you could see it through the rain.

Robyn caught my eye. “OK, and I’ll do a jungle.”

“Perfect,” Annie said, and floated off to join my parents.

We started picking out various shades of green and brown from the paint box. I picked red and orange, too, for the autumn leaves.

“Don’t forget blue for the sky,” Robyn said.

“You mean gray and white for all the clouds, don’t you?”

Robyn laughed. She had a nice laugh — kind of squeaky and shy. I felt myself relax a tiny bit. I realized I’d been too quick to judge her. Maybe I was wrong about her.

“I’m going to make the handle into a rainbow,” I said.

“Good idea.”

We settled down to paint, working silently, but some of the awkwardness had gone, so it didn’t matter quite so much that I still couldn’t think of anything to say.

My parents were engrossed in their own mugs. Annie had joined them and chatted easily with them while they worked. There was soft music playing from a stereo behind the counter at the back of the shop. Panpipes or something. Just Mom’s kind of thing. I prayed she and Dad wouldn’t get up and do a jig. I wouldn’t put it past them.

“So, are you here on vacation?” Robyn asked after a while.

I nodded. “Yeah, just for the week.” I dipped my paintbrush into the red, then dotted it around the bottom of the mug to make tiny leaves that looked as though they’d fallen on the ground around the trees. “We arrived yesterday.”

“Got some good things to do while you’re here?” Robyn concentrated on her mug while she talked. She was painting her handle yellow.

“Mom and Dad want to go on a few walks, if the weather improves. They’d like to visit a stone circle near here,” I said with a grimace to emphasize it was my parents who liked doing things like that, not me. I didn’t want her to think I was even more of a boring wimp than she probably already thought I was. Normal kids of my age aren’t usually interested in ancient monuments. They’re more into computer games and cell phones.

“Tidehill Rocks?” Robyn said.

“Yes, I think so.”

“There’s something so magical about a stone circle,” Robyn said softly, taking me by surprise. I stared at her.

“What?” she asked, looking up.

“Nothing. It’s just . . .”

“Just what?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Just I wouldn’t have expected you to say that.” I laughed. “I’m not used to people liking the same kinds of things as me.”

Then I thought about Charlotte, and felt bad. She and I had had lots in common. Her parents were just as wacky as mine — more so, probably. They’d proved it by going off to live their “back to nature” life hundreds of miles away.

But there were differences too — and they were bigger than the similarities. Like when the most incredible thing happened to me and I tried to tell Charlotte about it, and all she could do was laugh and thank me for telling such good jokes.

Robyn would probably laugh at something like that, too. I stiffened and got on with my painting.

“We’re going to go swimming, too,” I said after a while, just to show her we did normal things as well. “Mom and Dad promised to take me to the pool inside the fancy hotel up the road.”

Robyn nodded and got back to her mug. “Good idea, if this rain keeps up,” she said, glancing up at the window. The rain still spattered against it.

“Anything else we should do while we’re here?” I asked.

“There are some great forest walks. The woods have got sculpture trails — there’s some amazing stuff. You should definitely check them out if you like walking.”

“Great — thanks. A sculpture trail sounds just like my parents’ sort of thing,” I said, dipping my paintbrush in water. I didn’t want to admit I liked the sound of a sculpture walk, too. After all, she was only telling me the local tourist attractions, not what
she
liked to do. I imagined she liked going to the nearest big town and spending the day shopping with her friends. She probably had hundreds of best friends.

“Yeah, it’s my sort of thing, too,” Robyn said, and I wanted to kick myself for being a coward. What was the matter with me? Hadn’t I learned the hard way that it was best to be myself? If people didn’t like me for who I was, that was
their
problem. I shouldn’t pretend to be someone I wasn’t.

It was looking more and more as though my initial impression of Robyn was completely wrong! I tried to think of something else I could say, to show Robyn that I liked the same things that she did. My mind went blank, so I continued painting my mug in silence.

After a while, Robyn held up her mug. “Hey, Annie!” she called. “What do you think?” She’d painted a snake on the handle, twisting around and around, its forked tongue sticking out over the top of the cup.

“I think it’s great!” I said shyly.

Annie got up from my parents’ table and came over to join us. “Good work there, kid,” she said with a smile. Then she turned to look at mine. “Beautiful trees, Philippa. And a rainbow on your handle — what a lovely idea! You’re quite gifted.”

I blushed instantly.
Me? Gifted? I don’t think so!
“Mom and Dad are the talented ones in our family,” I said.

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Annie said with a wink. “I believe it was your talent that got you here in the first place.”

I glanced across at Mom and Dad. Did they have to tell our life story to everyone they met?

“Oh. Yes, well, I guess so,” I said, my face heating up as Annie left us again.

“Your talent got you here — what does that mean?” Robyn asked.

“Oh, it was just a competition at school,” I mumbled, embarrassed and shy. “Nothing major — don’t worry.” I got back to my forest mug and continued working in silence, making a point of concentrating hard so she wouldn’t ask any more questions.

I was just putting the finishing touches to the handle when I looked up and saw a man at the window. He was thin and tall, his face pale and taut, dark hair plastered to his head with rain. He didn’t have a coat on, just jeans and a black sweater that was drenched and hanging off him. Rain ran down his cheeks as he looked into the shop. Then his eyes fell on Robyn. A moment later, the door was open.

“Robyn! Home — now!” he thundered from the doorstep.

Robyn’s face jerked away from her mug. “Dad! What are you —”

“
Now,
I said!”

Annie was out of her seat in a moment. “Martin, there’s no need to stand in the doorway. Come in while you —”

Robyn’s dad didn’t budge from the step, and he didn’t look at Annie. It was as though she weren’t there. “Robyn, I’m not going to tell you again. You’re coming home now!”

Annie shook her head. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” she said softly, touching his arm. “Martin, please.”

Robyn’s dad snatched his arm away as though it had been burned. “I’m
waiting,
” he said to Robyn, his voice fierce and thick.

Robyn’s face had turned bright red. “I’d better go,” she said, jumping up from her seat and pulling her apron off.

I tried to hide my disappointment. I’d only just started to get to know her. “Maybe see you again, later in the week?” I said.

“Yeah, maybe,” Robyn said quickly.

“Are you going to make me wait out here in the rain all day?” her dad asked, his voice deep and kind of hollow. The way he spoke to her and looked only at her, it was as if he and Robyn were the only people in the world, as if he couldn’t even see anything else — or didn’t care to. Even my parents had begun to look awkward at his outburst, and they were normally completely clueless about basic skills like how to behave appropriately in public — so he must have been bad!

“I’m sorry,” Robyn mouthed to Annie. A second later, she was gone. I watched them leave in the rain, Robyn’s dad storming down the road, holding tightly on to her hand as she ran to keep up with his angry strides.

Annie stood at the window till they’d gone out of sight. Then, as if suddenly remembering she had a shop full of people, she smoothed down her apron, tucked a loose hair under the headband, and took a deep breath.

Her face was as flushed as Robyn’s had been. “Sorry about that, everyone.” She tried to smile, but it was obvious that she wasn’t happy. Her eyes didn’t crinkle up the same way as they had before. “Now, who needs some help?”

She hovered around us all, flitting between us like a butterfly, making jokes and talking nonstop, acting as though nothing had happened. I couldn’t concentrate on my mug anymore. All I could think was: What on earth
had
just happened?