A Pinch of Moonlight

by A V Awenna

  Chapter 7. An Appropriate Oak

  A quiet but insistent tapping at her window woke Vicky from her reverie. She put down the iPad she’d been hugging and opened the window to let Blackbird in. She thanked him for making himself scarce whilst she’d been Skype-ing. He seemed to pick up on her low mood, and asked, ‘Did the science-magic work?’

  That made her smile. ‘I just miss him, that’s all,’ she replied. ‘It was nice seeing his face and hearing his voice, but it’s not the same, is it?’

  Blackbird grunted in assent. ‘I know that feeling well,’ he said, and for a moment she felt half-guilty, half-worried. Guilty because he was a world away from everyone dear to him, whereas keeping in touch with Dave wasn’t that difficult. And selfishly worried that he might open up about all the people he’d left behind, and admit just how wretched his life was. But he just went to the privacy of his corner and she heard him climb into the basket and snuggle into the cotton wool.

  She checked the time. 6:30 am. Why was it easier to accept there was a fairy in her room than that she was awake at such a ridiculous hour? She sighed. It had been an awkward conversation.

  Dave had been full of stories of parties and scuba diving, new friends and places. It was obvious he was settling in brilliantly to his new life in Sydney.

  Vicky soon realised she had no idea what to tell him in return. ‘I’m hanging out with the most boring girl in school (who’s actually really nice)’. ‘I’m working at a retirement home’. ‘My cousin’s a witch and she’s being tutored by an ancient ancestor whose body is a tree’. ‘I saved a fairy from certain death’. That was her life, but she couldn’t tell him any of it. She told him about the day she went to the beach with Heledd, and smiled at all of his comments, but felt that they were drifting further and further apart. And there was a strange moment when she realised she could tell him any old story, and not only would he not know if it was true or not, he may not even care. It was a good thing he was so self-involved, as a couple of times Vicky had caught sight of herself, in the lower corner, looking grumpier than even the earliness of the hour could justify. So she’d pasted an interested look on her face, whilst realising that learning to be economical with the truth would be an important skill if she was going to run with the fairies.

  She shut down the tablet and locked it in a drawer. She didn’t want Blackbird messing with it behind her back. Didn’t he realise he should be totally techno-phobic? Instead he was fascinated by IT, and desperate to learn how to use it. But Vicky was far too worried about the consequences if images of a tiny humanoid got onto the internet. Sure, the web was full of clever fakes, but she didn’t want to take the risk. She pulled the duvet over her head and was soon asleep again.