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38.1: UNAPPETISING FACTS (part 1)

In which unicorns are not what they seem.

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Harriet did not sleep well. She was almost envious of Rupert and the other workers, slumbering contentedly on all sides. But she reminded herself of her mission-they had to get out of here.

In the morning, the fairy reappeared. "Wakey wakey," she called, flying in a circuit around the room. "Rise and shine, my sleepy guests. Lots more to be done today!"

The other workers awakened with satisfied smiles on their faces, in their minds coaxed awake by the fairy's delicate, trilling voice. Harriet, who could hear the true ugly grating of the fairy's words and the threatening buzz of her wings, awoke with her teeth on edge. But she forced a bland smile onto her face as she shuffled into line behind Rupert and they all followed the fairy back up the splintered stairs to the floor above.

Harriet had known that last night's 'banqueting hall' would look different to her free of the fairy-dust's effects, but she still paled as she took in the reality. In the place of last night's lavish table there was now a stained and dirty length of planking, balanced precariously on a few bricks at either end. The high-backed dining chairs were crude and crooked stools. And the food... Harriet clutched her stomach as last night's meal threatened to make an inconvenient reappearance. The silver platters and delicious dishes she had thought she was eating the night before were now revealed as bowls of indistinguishable grey slop. The crockery was grimy, the cutlery dirty, and a sulphurous odour suffused the room. One thing, however, remained the same: each place was set with a thimbleful of fairy-dust, sparkling and tempting as ever.

"Do sit," the fairy encouraged them. "Sit and eat up, my lovely ones."

Sticking next to Rupert, Harriet sat. Glancing up, she noted the fairy buzzing in slow circles above their heads, nodding approvingly as the workers tucked into their food. Harriet pulled one of the bowls of slop towards her as the fairy passed overhead. Knowing she had to at least keep up the pretence of eating, she stirred the thick gloop with a spoon. She was rewarded with a suspicious-looking lump floating to the surface. She gulped, trying not to retch.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rupert reach for his thimble. Quickly, Harriet leaned across and knocked it over with a flick of her spoon, sending the contents across the table. Then, for good measure, she used her sleeve to rub the powder into the grain of the tabletop until it stopped sparkling.

Rupert stared. "Hey, what did you do that for? That was making me better." He lunged across for her portion, but Harriet was too fast. Taking it up, she chucked it onto the floor at her feet.

"What the-"

Harriet grabbed Rupert's forearm beneath the table, squeezing hard to stop his outburst. "Sorry, Rupert," she whispered. "You'll have to wait until your dose this evening."

Rupert screwed up his nose. "But that's not fair. Everyone else got some."

"Come on, Rupert." Harriet spoke gently; it wouldn't do to have him make a scene. "You don't want the fairies to think you're ungrateful, do you?"

Rupert looked down at his slop. "I suppose not."

"Good," said Harriet. She patted his arm. "Now..." Her eyes went to his bowl. She tried not to grimace. "You've probably had enough of that too, haven't you?"

"No!" Rupert seized his spoon and bowl as though Harriet was about to steal those from him as well. He started ladling the grey gloop into his mouth. "It's delicious porridge, just like Miss Caw's." He smacked his lips. "I wonder if they use eye of newt too?"