The Hidden Fairy

By Mary Rose Foley

This story is about three children who stay with their grandparents for a holiday in County Leitrim in Ireland.

This is a misty enchanting place known for its fairy hills, gurgling streams, lakes and hidden caves.They find a baby but it's so tiny, it couldn

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chambers Publishing Ireland
• Release date: Jun 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781838043919

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The Hidden Fairy

Written and illustrated by Maryrose Foley

Paperback: ISBN 978-1-8380439-0-2

Ebook: ISBN 978-1-8380439-1-9

Published by Chambers Publishing Ireland

Both paintings and text by Mary Rose Foley

© Mary Rose Foley 2020

Design and layout by Francesca Giannotta

Cover picture by Mary Rose Foley

Contributions by Gian Tapinassi

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photo copying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Contacts

[e-mail]

facebook.com/MaryroseFoleyWriterandIllustrator/

I dedicate this book to my grandchildren:

Aoife, Katie, Darragh, Cillian, Grace,

Conor, Shane, Stephen, Amelia Rose

To my sister Rita Fitzgerald, who gave my childhood magic with her drawings of fairies.

To Irene Murphy, my life-long friend who encouraged me in all my efforts.

Acknowledgements

I want to thank Gianni from Writers’ Garage who patiently helped me towards the publication of this book. Every word, comma and full stop was scrutinised by him, and the editor, yet always making sure that the work was all my own.

Gianni, being Italian has a well developed eye for art too. Again he scrutinised each illustration and suggested changes here and there. He constantly encouraged me onwards to complete this publication.

Thanks Gianni.

Chapter 1

The Holiday Begins

The train from Dublin arrived at Carrick-on-Shannon exactly on time. Granda was waiting and waved when he saw us. He looked the same as always, with his rosy apple cheeks, and wearing his tweed cap.

Abandoning our luggage on the platform, we ran and hugged him tightly. The familiar smell of lavender soap and plug tobacco lingered around him. It was lovely to be back here again. But this time it was different because we had come without our parents.

‘It looks like you’re bound for America with all that luggage.’ he said, as he carted our fishing rods and bags through the gates of the train station. The three of us settled ourselves into the back seat of his old Ford car. Then off we happily rattled in high spirits, looking forward to the weeks ahead.

We travelled through the countryside, past hills and lakes, then slowed down as we drove through the little village of Kesh. Turning down a winding lane-way, we came to our grandparents’ farmhouse.

When we arrived, gran was already standing at the front door in her floral apron. She waited with outstretched arms to welcome us. The smell of fresh baked apple tarts wafted from the kitchen. She always served them with fresh cream, straight from the farm.

Looking around me, I realised that this old, familiar place had a very special feeling about it. It was as if we were actually part of it. I suppose that’s because generations of our family had grown up in this very house, over hundreds of years.

Some of the old, oak furniture must have been here from the beginning. Other items, like Turkish rugs and souvenirs, were probably collected from someone’s travels abroad. A carved and painted rocking horse, a doll’s house and hoards of old board games had all been abandoned by children of past generations.

This place had its very own sounds, too. The loud tick-tick of the grandfather clock that stood in the square hall was the heartbeat of the old house. That, and the creaking sound that the narrow, wooden staircase always made as we climbed our way up to the attic bedroom. It was there that we would sleep for the next few weeks.

I almost forgot to tell you what my name is; Aoife. It sounds like Eefa.

This story started when me and Katie were invited to stay for a holiday with our grandparents, in County Leitrim. Katie is my cousin, and my best friend too. As a matter of fact, some people think that we are sisters. If only, but I’m stuck with my brother, Dara.

We had all kinds of adventures planned, like exploring the fairy mounds on the hills, and finding buried treasure. My dad told us that almost anything is possible in that ancient and unexplored part of Ireland. For good measure, Katie brought along her metal detector.

Things didn’t work out as I’d hoped.

Our kindly grandparents decided to invite my younger brother