“Mummy, mummy, look, look!” Lina pulls hard at her mother’s hand as she chats with one of her grown-up friends. They’ve been chatting forever, their voices hovering over Lina as she skips back and forth on the long asphalt path.
“What Lina, what is it?” Her mother bends to peer in the direction Lina is frantically pointing. “Oh, you clever girl,” her mother replies and stands again. “Lina has found an orchid. Take a look,” Mummy says, and her friend reaches into her pocket for her phone. They bend close to Lina, trying to capture the flower’s delicate features.
Lina’s blonde ringlets bounce as she bows lower entranced as a sprite dances over little yellow notches on the satiny slippery dip of the flower’s petals. Fairy dust follows its feet, hovers then sinks to coat a petal.
The two women stand and look at each other’s photos. “Wow, check out the pattern on the labellum, so clear; maroon, and such a gorgeous pink. And you can even see the notches. What are they called?”
“Calli, I think. I’ll have to look it up. I wonder if we have reception here?”
Lina wonders what they are talking about. Didn’t they see the little toes tip-toeing back and forth? Maybe it was hiding deep down in the centre when they looked. Lina drops to her knees until her chin touches the ground and her eyes are level with the petals. She squeezes her eyes tight to see deep inside and gasps as the flower jiggles in the wind, and the sprite’s tiny costume lifts to reveal maroon tights. That’s what Mummy saw – the sprite’s legs. They were moving so fast, back and forth they looked like scissors slicing the flower open so all the fairy dust could fill the centre.
“Oh, Lina stay there, let me take your photo. You look so beautiful – my little Thumbe-Lina – a fairy hiding in the bush!” Mummy exclaims.
“Is that its name?” Lina asks, her face wide and flushed. Mummy must have seen it!
“What’s name?” Mummy asks as she shows her friend the photo of Lina’s button nose pressed against the flower.
“Thumbelina? Is it called Thumbelina?”
“Oh no,” Mummy’s friend replies, showing Mummy her screen. “See here it’s called fuscata. Caladenia fuscata.
“Fuscata,” Lina whispers under her breath as she turns her face back to the petals, searching for the sprite. A spring gust swirls, bringing with it wattle pollens and she sneezes, sending the tiny flower hurtling backward. It returns to a gentle sway, but its petals are now ragged and the lemony notches flat.
“It’s gone, I sneezed it away, ” Lina cries, her face crumpling as she stands.
“It’s OK Lina,” her mother soothes as she pulls her gently to her side. “You didn’t mean to hurt it. Let’s keep walking and keep your eyes peeled. My little Thumbelina might find a fairy prince if you look hard enough.”
Lina’s eyes grew wide. That must be where Fuscata went – to find the prince!
