Tuesday, June 06, 2006

A Fairy Story

A Fairy Story

He was going to see the fairies. Naturally he did not tell Amanda. His daughter would have given him one of her "more in sorrow than anger" looks and said, 'Oh Dad, you know there aren't really any fairies. It's all in your imagination'. Or, even worse, 'That'll be fun. I'll come with you. I've never seen these elusive creatures.'

Of course she hadn't Jim thought. Fairies are choosy about who they reveal themselves to. Those who don't believe in the first place will never be one of the privileged ones.

He waited until Amanda went to the supermarket before leaving the house. First he called in at the churchyard and stood by his wife's grave. In his memory she would forever be young and beautiful and still he missed her. After a couple of minutes he realised with some surprise that he had no shoes on. Socks but no shoes. Never mind, he would be back home before Amanda. She need never know and it was a warm day. He moved on.

The copse where the fairies lived was just a short walk from the village. He made his way to the clearing, sat down on a fallen tree and waited. He felt immensely happy. How peaceful this place was, how calm and, well, undemanding. Amanda was the best of daughters but he often felt anxious. He didn't want to worry her but he sometimes did something silly like putting his glasses in the fridge. All day he felt the need to check everything he did and sometimes was exhausted with the effort of it all. Here, in this private place, he could relax.

*********************

Amanda was away longer than she had intended. Parking was horrendous, there were long queues at the checkout and a hold up in the traffic. She could feel the stress building up. Perhaps she should have taken Dad with her but he became anxious in crowded places.

'Dad,' she called as soon as she opened the front door. 'Dad, I'm back.' No answer. She checked downstairs, then the bathroom and his bedroom. His television was on, his shoes in their usual place. 'Not again,' she said out loud. 'Please not again.'

She quickly searched the rest of the house and looked round the garden but she knew she would not find him. She ran back to the car. Where to look first? She drove to the church. Dad often visited her mother's grave. On his better days he would do a
little weeding, arrange some flowers in the urn. That was fine; Amanda knew where he was. Now she had no idea.

Her dad had lived all his life in this village. As a boy he had had freedom to roam and knew the village and surrounding countryside intimately. He could be anywhere. She suddenly thought of the disused quarry and panic surged through her. It was fenced
off but that would not deter someone intent on reliving boyhood adventures.

She was about to drive away from the churchyard when the vicar came out of the church. She called to him. 'Gerald, have you seen dad at all? He was gone when I got back from the shops.' She closed her eyes. 'I should never left him. He was a bitvague today.'

Gerald was aware of the problems. 'Don't be hard on yourself, Amanda. You can't watch him every minute.' he said. 'Actually I did glimpse him. I was going to have a word but by the time I got out he had gone.' He paused. 'He looked happy but what I
think of as "away with the fairies". You know, in a place of his own.'

That gave her an idea. 'Thanks Gerald,' she said. 'I think I know where he might be'.

She drove to the edge of the copse then made her way quietly to the clearing and there he was. The tension oozed from her. She felt weak with relief, immediately followed by anger. How dare he worry her so. She was close to tears.

Jim looked up and saw her. 'Hallo love,' he said. He looked round uncertainly and she saw the flicker of fear in his eyes. He could not recall coming to this place. That happened sometimes and it frightened him. As quickly as it had come, her anger faded. She went to him and held out her hand.

'I thought I would come and give you a lift back,' she said gently. ' Did you enjoy your stroll?'

He was now having one of his lucid times and he said ruefully, 'Sorry if I worried you again. I'm a silly old fool sometimes, aren't I?'

Amanda remembered all the times he had waited up for her in her wild teenage years; recalled the occasions he had turned out in the small hours to pick her up when she was stranded. It must have been hard for him to bring up a daughter alone she thought as well as cope with the grief of losing a beloved wife.and she was filled with love. She put her arm through his. 'Maybe,' she said lightly, 'but you'restill the world's best dad.'

It was important he knew that.

© Ivy Finch 2006