“You haven’t yet met Robert.” Miss Trang nodded to the corner where the man in the armchair sat. In the gloom Willa could just make out glittering black eyes, a rather large red nose, and wisps of white hair combed across a very bald head. He wore a cardigan sweater over a rumpled shirt and tie. A very ordinary-looking old man, until the armchair beneath him rose unsteadily to stand on its four long legs. It wasn’t an armchair at all, it was his body, a horse’s body — four legs with hooves. He was a centaur. Willa had seen pictures of them in books, but they were always young. She’d never seen a picture of an old man centaur. His head was slightly bowed as it brushed the ceiling. His hooves thudded on the thick carpet as he moved slowly and carefully past her into the dining room, but he still managed to knock over a couple of chairs as he went.
Willa’s heart was thumping. It was all too terribly exciting, but she was working to remain calm and composed. Or at least to look like she was.
“And last but not least, Mab.”
Willa looked around but no one was left. Everyone had gone into the dining room. Miss Trang pulled a small key from her pocket and went over to the dollhouse. She unlocked the padlock and opened up the front of the house, revealing tiny, perfect furnished rooms inside. In one room a small doll, no bigger than her little finger, sat on the sofa in a beautiful shimmery dress.
“Come on now,” Miss Trang murmured. “It’s all right.”
Willa gasped in surprise as the “doll” stood up.
“Pleased to meet you,” sounded a faint, insect-buzzy voice.
Willa was so gobsmacked she couldn’t speak for a moment. “Pleased to meet you,” she finally stammered.
Mab walked to the edge of her little room and jumped into the air. Sparkly transparent wings carried her flitting out of the room and into the dining room.
A fairy! A real live fairy! Willa felt her heart would burst. When she was very little she had spent countless hours in the backyard searching under toadstools and behind leaves for fairies. The pursuit eventually felt too silly and childish and she had turned to other pastimes, like stamp collecting. And now here she was, and fairies were real after all! She was so delighted and excited she wanted to laugh out loud. She had a million questions, but of course it was all a test, and if she failed she would never, ever see darling little Mab again, or Belle, or any of them, so she kept her mouth shut.
Miss Trang ushered Willa into the dining room. Everyone took their places around the table and Willa realized suddenly that she was quite hungry. She’d been so nervous about coming that she’d barely eaten a bite all day.
“Dinner smells delicious,” she ventured, which was true. Now the smells from the kitchen — pot roast with gravy, it smelled like — were making her mouth water. Baz hurried in and out, filling the table with covered dishes. When she was done, Miss Trang stood and, with a flourish, whipped the cover from a large silver soup tureen.
“Oooh!” and “Aah!” and “Lovely!” were heard around the table but all Willa could do was stare. The tureen was totally empty. She looked around to see if it was a joke, but everyone was dead serious. They held up their bowls and Miss Trang made a great show of ladling out nothing but air.
“Willa, would you like some soup?” All faces turned toward her. She froze. She had no idea what she was supposed to do. Was it special magic invisible food that everyone could see but her? Or was it a big joke? Were they laughing at her?
Willa smiled weakly and held up her bowl. “Yes, please. I’d love some soup.”
Everyone seemed to relax at that and began chatting over their imaginary meals. To Willa’s right Robert jostled her elbow as he leaned forward to slurp up his nonexistent soup. Horace too lowered his face right into his bowl, lapping noisily. The others wielded their silver spoons, clattering them in the bowls and delicately lifting them to their mouths.
Over the main course Robert began arguing loudly with Baz about the amount of garlic in the non-existent mashed potatoes. He occasionally pounded a hoof on the floor for emphasis, shaking the whole table. Horace listened to them, chewing thoughtfully. His massive paws rested on the table, the claws idly tapping holes in the tablecloth.
Willa sat primly, quietly, trying not to stare. Right beside her sparkling little Mab was skipping about her plate as if it was a fairy ring, the china sounding ting-ting-ting with every step. And Baz kept creeping up silently behind Willa, making her jump every time she placed a new empty plate in front of her.
The only thing that kept Willa from getting jittery was Fadi in her cage, just visible over Belle’s shoulder. The bird watched her steadily but kindly and even winked at her once. All she could do was pretend to eat. After all, that’s what everyone else was doing.
Willa dabbed her mouth with her napkin and placed it on her plate. The so-called meal was finally over. Now she had to pretend she was full, even though her stomach was groaning. Suddenly something brushed against her ankle. She stiffened. What new weird creature could this be? Was it dangerous? It was circling her feet, she could feel it moving. It must be the cat, the mysterious cat she had never seen. She picked up her handkerchief and let it slip from her hand onto the floor. Nobody even looked up as she leaned down to retrieve it and peered into the darkness under the table. Two green eyes peered back, and a scaly lizard face flicked out a scarlet tongue at her.
She managed not to scream but jerked up suddenly, banging her head on the table. Sitting up as nonchalantly as possible, she quietly drew up her legs until she was sitting cross-legged on her chair. She realized she was holding her breath and let it out slowly and silently. This was too much all at once; she felt an urge to shout, or run or scream or SOMETHING, but she kept rigidly still.
Everything had become strangely quiet. Everyone at the table was watching her, smiling.
“How did you like your dinner?” Miss Trang was regarding her with transparent eyes.
“It was delicious, thank you very much.” All she could think about was getting out of there and going home to make herself a peanut butter sandwich.
“This was all Horace’s idea.” said Miss Trang, gesturing toward the empty plates.
Horace nodded, grinning. “It’s known as a Barmecide Feast — a test of poise and humour. You did very well indeed, my dear.”
Willa blinked, unsure of what to say. Her stomach spoke for her, gurgling loudly, and she blushed with embarrassment. Miss Trang turned to Baz.
“Go and make Willa a sandwich. Peanut butter, yes?”
Willa started in surprise and nodded. Baz scurried into the kitchen and in a flash returned with the sandwich. As Willa munched happily, Miss Trang spoke once more.
“Since you have done so well tonight, we’d like to keep you on as our housekeeper. You’ll have additional duties, so we’ll need you here full time. And there are two rules. The first rule you know already: do not tell anyone about anything that goes on here. The second concerns the asking of questions. I’m sure you have a few queries about our humble household, yes?”
Willa could only nod, as her mouth was full.
“Well, it would take many days and nights to explain everything you are wondering about, believe me. For this reason you