Valentine's Wishes (4 page)

While she hovered, enjoying the starlit garden, she tried to remember everything she could about big wishes.
The power has to swell through me and I must wait until it’s at its strongest before I send the wish to where it’s needed. Can I do it? Not once, but three times tomorrow night? Can I grant a real big wish for each of them and still have the strength to breathe?

She flew back to her small nest up in the brickwork above the porch and sat with a cup of nectar in her hand. The warmth of roses and the peace of lavender filled her as she sipped.
Of course, I can do it, and tomorrow I will.

Before she slept, she brushed out her best yellow gown with the tiny mother of pearl decorations.

She would look her best, dressed in traditional fairy fashion when she granted the wishes her mortals wanted. Satisfaction slid over her.
Tomorrow’s party is going to be something magical.

After making one or two quiet farewells to the few of his male friends who woke early, Cedar left the fairy court by the nearest exit.

The air struck chill through his cloak but undeterred, he flew out into the expanse of winter bare garden. A layer of mist swirled over the pond, and when he reached the boundary of the large tree lined plot, he gazed back at what had been home for so long. Memories of the midsummer festivals he’d joined called to him.
Ah,
so many very willing fairies to bargain with, and so much special magic, a true enchantment for all the senses.
He sighed in remembrance of such joys, but Yew’s fearsome words rang through his reverie.

Gooseflesh rose on his arms at the prospect of being lured into becoming a father, by any one of a number of the beautiful and accommodating females he knew.
I’m not ready for it. I’m not right for it. I’ve got to go.

The glimmer of light on the horizon beckoned to give him hope, and he sped off. He’d promised himself he’d go fly about for twenty seasons or more, but somehow there had always been something better to do.
Not now.
He headed out toward where the winter sun cast the first rays of light over a tall stand of pine trees.

I’ll return to the pleasures of the court in a few years’ time, when things are back to normal.

His promise to Yew to seek out the sweet little Poppy gave him a focus, and he headed further east in the direction Poppy would probably have gone. The likelihood of finding her remained slight, but he’d give it a try.

He skimmed low over the tops of the bushes along row after row of gardens. All these green spaces seemed so small, nothing like the one he’d called home. A few trees stood, often at the borders of each property, but in winter’s grip, they were leafless, February bare and dull. The close proximity of mortals and their cars made all of these gardens very poor choices for any fairy. Worse than these, were the gardens covered over with stones or the dreadful, foul scented black tarmac. These lifeless environments offered no enticements to any creature, fairy or otherwise.

* * * *

The pale golden streaks of dawn broadened to a lighter sky and the mortal activity grew in consequence. Loud slams of car doors, the thunder of engines when the mortals went on their way, all nibbled at his earlier calm. The morning progressed and the noise increased. He found a convenient evergreen tree and rested high up where he could watch the hustle and bustle in peace while he waited for the busy mortals to clear.

When things quieted a little, he journeyed on. The rows of houses seemed to lead into other rows, with not so much as a scent or trace of a fairy anywhere.
Perhaps I should have gone west instead?

The winter day progressed too swiftly, and his shoulders ached from so much flying.
If I find no hint of another fairy soon I’ll have to find somewhere comfortable for the night.
There didn’t seem much on offer from any of the mortal houses, or the tiny garden sheds he flew over.

The constant danger from magpies or crows and should he descend further toward the ground, the threat of unknown cats, nagged at him.
So far, I’ve been lucky, but evening is a different matter.
His concern grew when the light dimmed further and the first stars twinkled like gems.
No good keep flying in the dark. I’ll try the next tidy shed I spot for somewhere dry to sleep.

He flew on into the gloom, but found not one shed which appeared the right kind to house him. Almost ready to halt for the night and sleep in a tree, his senses sparked with the hint of a fairy nearby.
Somewhere in this row, a fairy has made a home, a female by the feel of it.
He cast about to try to find where she might be, but the aura that teased at him remained too faint to follow in the gathering darkness.

For want of a better place to sleep, he flew to the open porch of one of the houses. Here, ledges and shelves offered shelter and safety.
This will do for the night. Tomorrow at dawn, I’ll track down the fairy I sensed and perhaps, it might even be Yew’s lovely, wayward sister, Poppy. Even if it isn’t Poppy, whichever female I find will be hungry for news from home, and probably for some fairy company.

He settled himself in the nook, wrapped his cloak tight around himself, and relished the warmth of the glow from the nectar he sipped from his hip flask.

Whoever the fairy is, she’ll not know of the latest fashion at the court, and I might be able to make a bargain of my own without any of the baby nonsense to spoil it.

I hope ’tis the pretty Poppy herself. I wonder how she will have grown. I wonder if she’ll be ready to make a bargain and enjoy a few precious moments with me. I wonder if she’ll still make me tingle.

* * * *

When he woke the next morning to the scrappy calls of wood pigeons, he dusted himself off, and once he’d combed through his hair, tried to concentrate on the trail of the fairy he’d scented. A wave of mortal aromas blocked him, so he flew out of the shelter of the porch and on down the street. Gray pavements gleamed with wetness as the frost melted in the early light, but his search seemed futile. The scent he’d picked up had faded.

He checked down one side of the row of houses and then back up the other side, noted the one or two gardens that appealed to fairy nature. Hovering above a fencepost he almost dropped into the jaws of a terrier pup that suddenly leaped up toward him, yapping loudly. “All right, yer wee beastie. I’m on my way. Be quiet can’t ye.”

Damn the blasted thing.
He flew as fast as he could the length of the fence but the terrier followed along the whole length of the garden, barking furiously.

Out of breath, he paused on a low branch of a copper beech tree in the next garden. Dogs made him shudder, not quite as bad as cats for they weren’t ever so stealthy in the hunt, but he’d no wish to end up between a set of gnashing teeth.
Where is this fairy? She can’t have simply vanished.

Almost at the point of giving up, his nose twitched when he caught another waft of fairy fragrance. Sure of his goal now, he followed the direction the scent came from.

He pushed through a pine-scented tangle of wet evergreen branches into a garden that, despite the presence of decking, appeared almost perfect. A wide arc of fencing contained a large plot of land. The fence border disappeared from view behind a range of deciduous and evergreen trees. An expanse of velvet soft turf bordered by shrubs and bushes raised his interest. Some winter flowering plants beckoned him to stop and take his ease. This garden offered pleasure, but the most tempting thing remained the delicious scent of a female fairy teasing at his senses. He itched to meet her.

Where might she have chosen to live?

Though the garden appeared almost too good to be true, it missed the vital necessity of a good-sized shed for fairy comfort. He alighted on a branch of a horse chestnut and searched for any clues to where the female might be.

His irritation grew, for though he searched, he found no sign of her among the trees and bushes. The short day had begun to fade to evening, when a flash and sudden bright flicker made him hide beneath a large hydrangea leaf. He gaped at the range of twinkling colored lights strung through the branches above and at the sounds of laughter from over on the decking.

Two mortal females struggled with a tall silver machine. They twiddled with buttons and after several minutes a flame appeared. The glow from it blazed blue hot, but they seemed not to mind and set out a range of chairs and small tables across the deck. The sounds of their laughter grew, and he decided to take the risk of going closer.

“Party.”

Cedar smiled at the word. One of the mortals opened a sliding door and both females went back inside the house. A mortal party would be an excellent place to suck in a lot of energy to sustain him on his journey. This might also lead him to the elusive female fairy, who was bound to want to take some energy too.

He flew close to the edge of the decking, landed where some winter heather bloomed in a purple splash of color. Here he settled down to doze while he waited for the party to begin and to find out if his guess might be right.

Poppy smoothed down the shimmering folds of her best gown, tweaked at a bit of the shell decoration so it sparkled the way she liked. Her stomach bubbled with a churned mix of anticipation and excitement. She pushed a long strand of hair back over her shoulder and admired her reflection through the night darkened window in the sitting room.
I’m just right for a party, I twinkle like stardust. Shame I can’t show the girls or anyone else how good I clean up.

“Keri, Bal, come in here to help me with the punch, will you?” Lucy called from the kitchen.

Twitches flashed through Poppy.
It’s all about to begin.
She clapped her hands together and sped through to the kitchen, where she found a large jug to hide behind before her mortals could see her.

Bal and Keri came to join Lucy, who now stood in front of the large saucepan she’d taken down from the top cupboard and set on the table.

“Okay, what are we in for tonight?” Keri asked.

Poppy peeked round the edge of the jug. She stifled a giggle. The punch Lucy made for parties was a treat, and usually she managed to get more than a sip or two.

Lucy lifted a dust coated pair of green bottles. “In honor of this special Valentine’s event, I am donating my last two bottles of Aunt Trudy’s home-made damson wine.”

“Oh my God, they’ll all be legless. The damson stuff is like fruity rocket fuel. Anyone who drinks the punch will wake tomorrow wondering where they’ve been and what they’ve done.” Bal covered her huge smile with her hand.

“No, they won’t. We’re going to add more oomph to it too, and being February and so cold, I thought we’d serve the punch warm. But, Bal, you only get one glassful, you’re not used to anything other than a white wine spritzer, and I’d hate to make you ill,” Lucy said, as the cork popped when she opened the first bottle.

Poppy inhaled the blast of fragrance from the wine.
They always add things to the punch. What’s going to be next?

“How about we put some raspberry juice in it? And some sugar and brandy?” Keri said. “We’ve got raspberries in the freezer. I can mash them up in the blender and sieve them to get rid of the seeds.” Keri opened the freezer.

“Excellent idea. Get the blender out, Keri, it should be a real good combination of flavors.” Lucy poured the wine into the large saucepan and added some cinnamon sticks and some orange and lemon slices before she set the pan on the stove. “I’ll put the sugar in now so it dissolves well.”

Bal stared into the pan and passed Lucy the sugar as the blender roared.

“Here,” Keri scraped the raspberry mush through a sieve over a bowl, and tipped the liquid into the pot.

Lucy tilted a quarter bottle of brandy and the contents glugged down into the pan. “That should do the trick. Now we each have a stir once the brandy is in, and then we’ll top the lot with some good old fashioned water.”

Poppy reeled back at the pungent aroma.

“What? We stir like the old ‘when shall we three meet again’ scene?” Bal said with a laugh.

“Too right, my flower, on this special night it’s three times round and make a wish.” Lucy closed her eyes, her lips wordlessly moved while she stirred the punch.

“She gets far too carried away with this, you know,” Keri murmured to Bal.

Poppy hugged her sides laughing.

Lucy opened her blue eyes and passed the spoon to Bal. “Your go, and wish for something good, this one is going to be awesome.”

Bal grasped the spoon, closed her eyes and stirred three times.

Poppy hovered up a little way to watch the dark wine begin to bubble in the saucepan.
If only I could grant their wishes now, but if I wait they might say them aloud. I’ll have to wait a bit longer in the hope they do or carry on anyway like I planned last night.

“Keri, your go.” Bal handed the spoon over, and Keri stood in front of the pan. Her dark eyes closed and she stirred the pot.

“Okay, that’s it,” said Lucy. “I don’t want all the alcohol boiled out of it. Into the punchbowl it goes, and we’ll keep it hot with those little candle things we nicked from the Bengal Tiger. Set ’em up, Bal.”

Poppy darted through to the sitting room and dived down behind a chair. Bal went to the long table which the girls had arranged with food and lit the tea lights under the warming dish. Lucy followed wearing oven gloves to carry the steaming punchbowl. She put the silvered bowl over the top of the warming trays and yanked off the thick gloves.

“Right, time to change and become party divas,” Keri said and beckoned them to the stairs.

The three of them left, and with them gone Poppy hovered over the table. Everything was so pretty. Pink and red candles ready for lighting stood in holders among lots of mortal food. The spicy snacks which Bal often brought back from a visit home were piled high on a silver tray. The punch smelled delicious, with the lovely scent of cinnamon, and damsons bringing back the pleasure of lazy September sunshine.