I stopped fluttering so he could look at me more easily. ‘No, Sir Bottom.’
‘I am going to dye it with saffron, and dye other threads with rose, and green and blue and silver too. I am going to weave a tapestry of wool, Monsewer Peaseblossom, telling of all my strange dreams of last night. A lady most passing fair.’
Which would probably please Titania, but put Oberon in another huff.
‘How about a tapestry showing the marriage of King Theseus to his Hippolyta instead?’ I suggested. ‘I imagine they would hang it in the palace’s great hall for the whole court to gaze on.’
‘You think they might?’
‘With your love of wool, Sir Bottom, I am sure they will. People will speak of the wedding for ten thousand years, having seen the story of it in your work.’
‘Then I must away!’ he yelled. ‘The play’s the thing, to catch the attention of the King.’
Bottom was never going to make a poet. Or an actor. But he would truly be a weaver now, and a happy one. And I already knew that the story of Theseus’s wedding would be told in ten thousand years.
Ten thousand years to Gaela’s pizza shop . . .
I could split time. Visit her café just once more, in disguise, long before she ever met me. Hear her voice, watch the wriggle of her seaweed tattoo. I might even sit on the shore, fairy-sized, and watch her make a delivery through the moonlit waves to the sea serpent.
But I wouldn’t. I was a fairy, the son of a fairy, as Bottom was the son of a weaver. I would do my duty, and be as happy as Bottom was now.
It was time for Theseus and Hippolyta’s wedding, and the weddings of the two couples I had just untangled.
Oberon would dance with Titania again at the Midsummer’s Eve revels, happy to have stolen away her pageboy. She had forgotten poor little Polchis already.
And then I would be married too.
CHAPTER 15
Day Zero had come. This afternoon the Fairy Court would watch the human weddings, then, as dusk settled its softness on the land, we would begin the revels in Fairyland. Midsummer was the most propitious day for weddings, for fairies as well as humans. Queen Titania had decreed it.
I fluttered here and there, supervising everything. But I’d done my work well. The feasting glade was decked out with rosebuds, dew-drop diamonds, and carpeted half a metre deep with moss sprinkled with keep-it-green potion. The glow-worms and fireflies were ready in their barns, well-fed and watered and resting for their efforts tonight. Elvis had a sore throat, but nothing that a thyme and honey potion couldn’t cure. A team of trained gryphons had dragged in the two thrones — Titania’s a single vast carved ruby, Oberon’s of emerald, both trimmed with gold. And I’d undone Moth’s mistakes — he’d ordered fire-breathing dragons instead of glow-worms.
The feast itself was Cobweb’s duty. You could always rely on Cobweb, so I just peeked into the royal kitchens. Fairy bread was baking, candied rosebuds were laid out for their final drying, crystallised violets winked like the tiny stars had above the ocean, as Gaela held my hand and drew me through the waves . . .
I blinked back to reality, dashed to my foxglove and changed into a fresh rose-petal kilt, picked up a garland of flowers for my hair that had been left by the foxglove’s stem and flew back to the feasting glade.
Puck hovered there already. He’d changed too; his blue doublet was immaculate and three blue armbands indicated his rank. I fluttered a few metres back from him out of respect, but near enough to lend a wing if he made a mistake.
He grinned at me. ‘Going to be a fine revels, boy. One you’ll never forget.’
I nodded. It was hard not to feel excited despite my sorrow at losing the . . . the . . . At losing a courageous friend who made stunning pizza.
‘Showtime!’ yelled Puck, his wings quivering.
Sixty fairy trumpeters marched into the glade. They lined up either side of it, then raised the stamens of their nasturtium trumpets and blew. The ‘March of the Fairy Godmothers’ rang through the forest.
I flew a little higher to get a better view. Here came the Fairy Godmother Regiment, squad after squad of them, each wearing her own shade of pumpkin with the insignia of their corps on her wand. Their glass slippers clacked in time to the music.
Next came the Flower Fairies, soaring towards us on their butterflies, Fairy Daffodil in the lead. She saluted Puck formally, then blew him a kiss and led her squadron to the far end of the glade.
The trumpeters broke into the ‘Tooth Fairy Tango’. I thought I could make out the Fairy Floss among the blaze of shining white. Each held a toothbrush in one hand and pliers in the other, waving them at the growing crowd of fairies.
Titania’s assorted court functionaries came next: Moth, Cobweb and Mustardseed and all the others, dressed in clean white rose-petal kilts; then Oberon’s staff in their blue gryphon-skin doublets. I was looking forward to being awarded just such a uniform after my wedding tonight, as well as a blue double armband.
The cooks marched in, and then the hunters, mounted on their wasps. The trumpeters changed their wilted nasturtiums for new ones as Elvis marched into the glade alone, looking a bit like a vast Tooth Fairy himself in his white jumpsuit, smiling and waving, his sunglasses flashing in the sunlight. He stopped by the thrones. The trumpeters respectfully ceased their tweeting as he broke into ‘Hound Dog’.
Finally Their Majesties flew in, hand in hand, their wings glistening in the sun. The Queen’s dress was made of jewelled cobweb with the web itself removed. The King wore peacock spider silk, a thousand times more beautiful than anything made by silkworms.
They soared down and took their places on their thrones.
We all bowed, or curtsied, low.
‘Rise!’ cried Titania.
She looked as fresh as a rosebud despite her eventful night. There was no sign of Polchis. I guessed Oberon had the boy hidden away.
Oberon clicked his fingers. An image of the Athenian court appeared above the glade. The nobles wore their best leathers and linens — drab by fairy standards, but still impressive — golden necklaces and armbands and anklets and rings. Their spears, swords and battle axes had been left at home. Harpists strummed in the background. (There is no comparison between the music of a harp and that of a nasturtium trumpet. Trust me.)
Theseus entered, hand in hand with Hippolyta. Both wore purple tunics — hers long, but with a skirt split to allow easy movement; his knee-length — with soft leather boots, and golden coronets and armbands. It seemed Hippolyta had finally found a dress she could move in. Both she and Theseus looked as happy and triumphant as if they had found each other for themselves.
Elvis crooned softly in the background as the Fairy Court watched Theseus swear lifelong love to Hippolyta in front of both their peoples, which was how a royal wedding was performed at that time.
‘Your honour shall be my honour,’ said Theseus solemnly. ‘Your people will be mine too.’
‘And I vow to thee,’ Hippolyta said, smiling and taking his hand, ‘that I will love no other my whole life, nor give my life for any other, as long as I shall live.’
The Athenian King and his new Queen then sat on their thrones, which were carved from stone and inlaid with gold. Theseus must have had all his kingdom’s carvers working solidly for the last two days to create a throne that exactly matched his.
Now, Theseus called Lysander and Hermia to come towards him and his new Queen. Lysander wore a simple white tunic with a small dark blue embroidered border. Hermia’s dress was dark blue too, simple but finely woven.
Theseus gave the couple his royal blessing, then gestured for Hippolyta to do the same. Hippolyta spoke in her own tongue but the sentiment was the same: Lysander and Hermia were married. They looked terrified and triumphant, unsure yet irrevocably certain that this was the love their lives would encircle — which was the way the best of marriages began.
Egeus looked like he’d swallowed a python that had just eaten a bullock, but he had to pretend a smile when his king
and queen looked at him.
Demetrius and Helena were married next. She must have been dreaming of her wedding day most of her life, for her dress showed the work of ten women embroidering for a decade. She seemed to me the kind of girl who was more in love with the wedding than her groom.
Demetrius wore red, which was as close as he could come to royal purple without being beheaded. He looked from side to side around the great hall to make sure that everyone was properly admiring him and his beautifully bedecked bride. But he looked happy, and so did she.
Slowly the Athenian sun sank like a vast burning ball, sending black shadows from the great rock across the plain. The Athenian court danced by torchlight, then sat on stools to watch the play. But by then our Fairyland Majesties were bored with mortal revels. It was, in truth, the most abysmal play.
Puck flicked off the image and its light was replaced by glow-worms inching about the royal glade, with fireflies dancing above. The moon shone down as brightly as it had the night a selkie took me by the hand and drew me deep into the ocean. But I should not think of that.
Then came another thought: yes, this night I must think of Gaela. Because tomorrow I would not remember her with love. I would not be able to think of her except with vague amazement that I had once found a selkie lovely. I would probably not even long for pizza.
Finally I could admit that I did love Gaela. A true and unsought love that I could never express to her; or to myself except in this moment when it was too late to condemn myself — and condemn her too. Because if I had chosen to spend my life with Gaela, Queen Titania would surely have punished her as wrathfully as she did me.
Gaela would be back under the green sea now, perhaps drifting into a sand-strewn cavern cool and deep, just as she had described, her dark hair swaying about her. Perhaps she had already rejoined the other selkies. They would welcome her back with . . . What did selkies do for welcome? Would the wild white horses of the waves dance in joy that she had come home? I didn’t know.
I knew almost nothing about selkies, and almost as little about Gaela, except the true sweet heart of her that I would love until . . .
Until the heartsease drops were placed into my eyes.
‘Peaseblossom!’ a voice said. ‘You are looking handsome. But your side petal is crooked.’ Flossie fixed it with her small neat hands. ‘Congratulations on the Athenian wedding, by the way. It was absolutely beautiful.’
‘Thanks. You’re looking lovely too.’
Flossie wore long chains of bright white baby teeth — like pearls but far more precious — looped about her neck; and her white petal dress was embroidered with small teeth as well. From a distance she was dressed like any other Tooth Fairy, but up close she was a bride.
She smiled at me. ‘In another few minutes we’ll be married. It doesn’t seem quite real! Have you seen our mushroom today?’
I shook my head. ‘I’ve been busy.’
‘Your Great-Grandmother Daffodil planted snowdrops all about it, to match the teeth fence. So kind of her.’ Flossie added in a whisper, ‘Some of the lines of flowers weren’t quite straight. Does she . . .’
‘Drink a bit too much Dew Brew? Yes, but only at midsummer.’
‘I hope she brushes her teeth afterwards,’ said Flossie. ‘You should see the state some teeth get into. I’ll give her a new toothbrush and some of my new anti-tartar mouthwash as a Midsummer’s Eve present.’ She smiled again, showing her pearly whites. ‘I’ll make sure you have all you need in the tooth department too, after we’re married. Does it seem as strange to you?’
I managed a smile back. It wasn’t Flossie’s fault. She was a nice girl. Businesslike. Caring. Ambitious, just like me. ‘I suppose it does for every fairy’s wedding. What do a Tooth Fairy and a Potion Fairy have in common?’
‘As much as Puck and Daffodil,’ agreed Flossie, laughing. ‘That’s why we have the love potion.’
She took my hand. It was a good firm hand. She smelled of gardenias with just a hint of peppermint toothpaste. I would love that scent soon. Even now it was quite pleasant.
Their Majesties had chosen well for us. Two efficient fairies, happy together in their mushroom house, working at the jobs they loved, that they’d found fulfilling ever since Their Majesties had proclaimed they should.
‘And now for my next number,’ said Elvis.
That was the cue for the Fairy Orchestra to tune up; not just the trumpeters, but pipers too, with their hollow reed flutes, and drummers with hollyhock seedheads. The glow-worms moved to make a single glowing aisle leading to Their Majesties’ thrones. The fireflies hovered above them.
Suddenly Puck was at my side. ‘Big moment, boy. In a few minutes you’ll be my permanent assistant.’
‘And married,’ I said.
‘That too.’
He gave Daffodil a friendly squeeze as she walked past, glowing in her daffodil dress of lacy yellow cobwebs. She patted his cheek, then stood with the other Flower Fairies.
My parents were standing with Flossie’s parents. They waved to us in a friendly fashion. Fairies lived too long to stay close to their parents; and of course baby fairies were brought up in a creche from one week old so our parents’ work wasn’t interrupted. It was quite rare to work with a relative, as I did with Puck. It was just coincidence, although I’d probably inherited his talent with potions.
Flossie took my hand as Elvis crooned ‘Love Me Tender’, and we walked together along the carpet of soft moss towards Their Majesties on their thrones.
Puck walked behind us, a jewelled flask of heartsease potion in his hand. I still had the potion flask from earlier in the pouch on my belt. With all the last-minute fuss I’d forgotten to remove it. But you didn’t use ordinary potion flasks at a wedding.
Humans ask questions like: ‘Do you love me?’ ‘Will you marry me?’ ‘Do you still love me?’ But there’s no need for questions like that before or after a fairy wedding. Why would there be when all weddings were ordained by the Fairy King and Queen?
King Oberon stood and took my hands. Titania stood and took Flossie’s.
‘She is yours, and yours to keep, till oceans dry and the sun weeps,’ said Oberon to me.
‘Love him till the seas run dry, love and never wonder why,’ Titania commanded Flossie.
King Oberon gestured to Puck, who stepped forward.
‘Do you take this potion willingly, to enchant you your whole life?’ Puck asked Flossie.
‘I do,’ she said, and lifted her face so Puck could drip the potion into her eyes. She blinked, then gazed at me with such love that I felt my skin shiver.
Then it was my turn. I wiped my hands on my petalled kilt. For some reason I was sweating. All I had to do was yell ‘No!’ and . . . And what? No one had ever said no before. It was unthinkable. And yet I had thought it.
‘Do you take this potion willingly, to enchant you your whole life?’ Puck asked me.
Did I imagine it, or was there a faint warning note in his voice?
But there was no need of a warning. I lifted my face.
I had expected the drops to feel cold. Four hundred years of placing drops in others’ eyes and I’d never known what they felt like. They were warm; their heat slipped through my veins. I was no longer the same; would never be the same; would never want to be the same.
I turned to Flossie. She smiled at me, radiant, loving and lovely, the face I would see every morning for the rest of my life, and every evening too, and each time with love.
I kissed her, and knew I could never be as happy again.
Behind us the Tooth Fairies laughed as they formed an arch, giggling and shoving. Tooth Fairies worked alone so they didn’t have much experience in teamwork.
Flossie and I ran under the arch hand in hand, giggling, joyous, then took our places on the small thrones that Cobweb had placed at the other end of the glade from Their Majesties, where we would receive good wishes and our wedding presents.
The first gifts were a statue o
f a gryphon carved from moonstones from Oberon for our front garden; and a box of sugarplums that would never empty from Titania.
Flossie nudged me and muttered, ‘Terribly bad for the teeth. But of course one can’t tell Her Majesty that.’
I grinned at her. ‘Certainly not!’
Puck and Daffodil gave us matching potion bottles made from gryphon teeth. Tasteful and useful. Daffodil kissed my cheek, then Flossie’s.
We received a carpet woven from everlasting flowers from the Flower Fairies; a shower curtain made of slug teeth — very rare and nowhere near as slimy as you’d think; a set of fairy wands decorated with silver glitter; a set of pumpkin-coloured sheets and towels from my Fairy Godmother; and another set in tooth-white from Flossie’s. Some mushroom compost. You can never have too much mushroom compost, not if you don’t want your living room to shrink. A toaster from Moth that would have been useful if mushrooms had electricity. A bag of mushroom spawn from Cobweb in case I wanted to grow a garden shed. Another bag of compost . . .
All at once I could smell something. Something hot, with a hint of cheese and tomato sauce.
‘Happy wedding,’ said the creature hovering in front of me. It held out a gift.
It was a banshee. Without its partner, I couldn’t tell if it was the female or male of the couple from the pizza shop, just a collection of black wisps with the hint of eyes.
Moth gasped. One of the Flower Fairies screamed. Flossie took my hand. Someone had hysterics near the Fairy Godmothers. Their Majesties glared.
I wondered if there had ever been a banshee at a fairy wedding before. The Midsummer’s Eve revels were a time of total joy; and banshees only appeared to sing of death. Or to eat pizza.
I suddenly noticed the gift the banshee held among its whirling threads of black. A slice of . . .
‘Pizza?’ asked Flossie, puzzled.
‘Wedding present,’ said the banshee hoarsely.
It handed the slice to me, then floated up to hover near an olive branch. At least the banshee wasn’t singing, I thought vaguely. If it wasn’t singing, then maybe no one was going to die.
My Name is Not Peaseblossom Page 11
