The Fairy Godmother Part 4

“So how did you come by this talking mirror?” I asked as soon as we got to his house.

“Don’t you think you should work around to that one?” asked the Head Fairy.

“No,” I said to the Head Fairy.

“Well?” I asked him.

“What do you know about the mirror?” he asked.

“I know that in the wrong hands it can do a lot of harm,” I said. “Now, what do you know about it and how did you get your hands on it?”

“It’s a long story,” he sighed. “I’m not sure where to start.”

“Try the beginning,” I said. “It’s best to start there, prevents unpleasant flash backs and the confusion they can create.”

“Where are my manners,” he said unlocking the door and showing me into the house. “Would you like a drink?”

“A cup of tea will be fine,” I said, waving my wand and a tea tray dragged itself out from behind a cupboard, the tea pot sprang into action the muck and mouldy tea bags flew out of it into the bin and the kettle began to sing. More tea bags appeared along with a couple of mugs, a sugar bowl and milk jug.

“I didn’t know I had a tea set,” he muttered, as they all gathered on the tray, along with a plate of assorted biscuits.

“Right,” I said. “Shall we go into the living room so we can sit comfortably whilst you tell me all about the mirror?”

“We can go there,” he said. “But I don’t know about sitting comfortably,” he added, opening the living room door.

The tray followed me into the room, but there was no obvious place for it to sit down, all the surfaces where littered with either dirty clothes or discarded take-away containers. With a wave of my wand I cleared some space for us and the tray, with a sigh of relief it sank down onto the coffee table.

“I could do with a wand like that,” he sighed.

“You could do with a cleaner,” I said.

“I could do with the money to pay one,” he said.

“What happened to your wife?” I asked, noting the wedding photo, about the only thing in the room that was clean.

“She gone, well been taken,” he sighed. “Since then, it has been hard motivating myself, things seemed to pile up and. She was always so good at organising.”

“Is that when things started to go wrong?” I asked.

“Yes,” he sighed.

“Then that is where you need to start,” I said. “I know it’s difficult, but.”

“I need to tell it all,” he said, looking at the photo. “Happiest day of my life, when we got wed and we had a good life together. She helped me set up the shoe shop, kept the books, did the ordering. I made them, she sold them, we were a team.”

“And then?” I asked, not sure that I really wanted to know.

“He turned up one day, about a year ago, asking where we got such good quality leather,” he said. “My wife knew good suppliers, she could talk them into providing the best quality at a good price. She always said it was my workmanship that made the shoes sell, but it doesn’t matter how good a craftsman you are, you can’t make a silk purse out of a sows ear.” He sighed and gazed at the fireplace. “I should light the fire, it’s cold in here. She always kept the fire built up, a warm welcome when I came in from the workshop.”

“So, this man turns up,” I prompted him, he seemed to have come to a halt, he wasn’t even standing up to light the fire and the room was getting colder.

“Should I light the fire?” I asked the Head Fairy.

“Might be an idea, because it doesn’t look as if he’s going to,” she sighed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“We try to discourage too much wand,” she said.

“It isn’t like he’s noticing it,” I said. “And doing anything any other way would take rather too long.”

“OK, your call,” said the Head Fairy. In other words, if it goes right, I take the credit, if it doesn’t then you’re up to your neck in it.

I lit the fire and the heat and light from it seemed to bring him back from his wool gathering.

“He kept coming in to the shop asking where we got out materials from, my wife told him, but they wouldn’t deal with him and he got increasingly agitated,” he sighed. “My wife told him it was out of her hands, she couldn’t make them sell to him.”

“So what happened next?” I asked, trying to get him to continue.

“I came home one day to find her gone,” he sobbed. I handed him a hankie. He took it and blew his nose loudly. “There was a note on the counter, with a photo of my wife in something that looked like a glass topped coffin. The note said that she was in stasis and would stay like that until I did what he asked.”

“And what he asked for was the talking mirror?” I asked.

“No,” he sighed. “At first it was a load of fancy shoes, he said they were for his lady.”

“Sounds like he wants to keep her onside,” I said.

“The demands got greater and he still wouldn’t return my wife. The mirror was just the latest thing, he said it would be the last, but he lied,” he sighed. “Now it feels like I am going to be on a string forever and that I will never get her back.”

“Where did you get the mirror from?” I asked. “I mean your usual suppliers can’t have had one.”

“The brother of one of the people in the dispatches of our supplier lived next door to a widow and his son, he took their only cow into market to see what they could get for it. He knew a good hide when he saw it and was going to make an offer for the cow, but the widow’s son sold it before he got to market. Sold it for a bag of beans, his Mother was furious with him and threw them in the garden, I think she’d said there weren’t even enough to make a good meal in that bag, I think she was more angry with herself for leaving the job to him. Anyway, next morning the brother of the person in dispatches was up early and saw that the beans had sprung up over night and the stalk reached up into the sky, so he climbed it. At the top of the bean stalk he saw a palace and went to look round. The place was full of treasure and he was wondering how he could get at least some of it back down here when this mirror called to him. Well, he had to have it, wrapped it in a sack and took it down with him, promising himself he’d be back later for the rest, but when he got back at the end of the day, the bean stalk had been chopped off at ground level and lay withering on the ground. He told his the person in dispatches and they promised to see if they could find a buyer for the mirror. I mentioned it to him and he wanted it, for his lady. He promised me my wife back if I got it to him, but he lied. Now I have neither the mirror or my wife,” he sighed again and looked at me.

“Well,” I said to the Head Fairy. “Looks like the mirror supply line has been cut off.”

“That’s good,” she said. “But we are no nearer to finding the one that is out there.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I replied.

“You sent a message to him about the mirror?” I asked.

“He’s always on the lookout for something good,” he said. “Something to impress his lady.”

“Then we lure him here with something that he can’t resist,” I said.

“For what purpose?” he asked.

“We need to do two things,” I replied. “Find out where the mirror is and find out where your wife is being kept.”

“So,” asked the Head Fairy. “Do you have any ideas as to what this lady will find irresistible?”

“You have some magic jewellery,” I said to the Head Fairy. “It isn’t mine, it comes with the job, personally I think it’s a bit gaudy. Why?”

“It makes the wearer irresistible to the man she chooses,” I smiled.

“I have no money left to buy anything that she might want,” he said.

“She seems to know her magic,” I told the Head Fairy. “It’s this or wave good bye to the talking mirror.”

“Fine,” the Head Fairy muttered, snapping her fingers, a fine leather jewellery box appeared. “But if you loose these,” she glared.

“I shall keep them in clear sight all the time,” I promised. “Anyway, you’ll be with me.”

“You bet I will,” she muttered.

“I think you will find that this meets the bill,” I said handing the box over. He opened the lid and took a photo of it’s contents and then sent it off.

“If that doesn’t get him running nothing will,” he sighed as his phone rang back to say he had a text.

“USUAL PLACE, TEN MINUTES.”

“He’s taken the bait,” I said.

By Janice Nye © 2019