by Helen Harper
Mark’s answer was quiet. ‘I knew he would be. I knew you’d always be alright.’
Luke growled. ‘You couldn’t have known that.’
A growing silence filled the air. I peeked round the corner. They were like a pair of nervy street cats, staring at each other and unsure if they should walk away or start scratching each other’s eyes out. They were so similar it was uncanny. From what I could tell, they were both terrified.
‘I don’t know why you’ve come here, son. I don’t have any money. I’m not your dad either. Not really.’
‘I don’t want your fucking money. And I know you’re not my dad. It takes more than a lucky shag to become a real father.’
‘So what do you want?’
Luke drew in a ragged breath. ‘Did you care?’ he asked. ‘Did you ever care about me at all?’
Mark looked away. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I never wanted you. I never cared.’
He was a terrible liar. Luke wasn’t in a position to see that, however.
‘Good!’ Luke snarled, right on cue. ‘I only came here to tell you that you’re shit and I’m glad I don’t know you.’
I rolled my eyes, abandoned the tea, and marched towards the ridiculous pair. Honestly. Some humans just needed a damned good shake.
I jabbed Luke’s shoulder with my finger. ‘This boy has been looking for you for months. He’s desperate to get to know you as a person, regardless of what’s happened in the past.’ I turned to Mark and jabbed him. ‘You failed as a father fifteen years ago. That doesn’t mean you have to fail now. If you don’t want anything to do with your son then the kindest thing to do is to say so now and Luke can move on with the rest of his life. But be damned sure that’s how you feel. You won’t get another chance at this.’
Mark stared at me. His hands twisted together and his jaw worked. He didn’t say a single word though.
‘Well, fuck off then,’ Luke said. He spun away as Mark’s eyes filled with tears.
‘Wait,’ I said. I walked past Mark, reaching down past the chair behind him and picking up the small wooden chest that had been lying there. ‘Here, Luke.’
Mark didn’t protest although his face did spasm with fear when I passed the chest to his son. Luke flipped it open and gazed at the contents. I reached past him and scooped up the scrap of paper with my phone number on it, crumpling it in my hand. Luke barely noticed.
‘That’s…’
Mark put his hands in his pockets. ‘A lock of your hair.’
Luke pulled out a small, worn stuffed rabbit. ‘Mr Floppy. I thought he’d gotten lost.’
I clenched my fists in delight. Without knowing exactly what was inside the chest, I’d been taking a gamble. When Mark Countman hadn’t thrown away my phone number, however, and had dropped it into that box I knew that whatever else was in there, it pertained to Luke, for good or for bad. As it turned out, it was most definitely for good.
‘These are letters,’ Luke said wonderingly. ‘They’re all addressed to me.’
‘I wrote them. I didn’t post them,’ Mark said, his voice gruff. ‘You had a new family. You didn’t need me. And as your girlfriend here said, I’d already failed you once by walking away. I should never have done that. I was young and selfish and I thought I didn’t want a family.’ A single tear rolled down his cheek. ‘It was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.’
I stepped back, sidling out of the room. Luke didn’t need me now. Neither did his father. This could have gone very differently. Perhaps it still would in the future. I’d gotten them to this point though. That would be enough. What happened from here on it would be down to them alone. Besides, as soon as the two stopped hugging and Luke told his father that I wasn’t his girlfriend at all then things would become remarkably problematic. It was definitely time to hot-foot it back to the office. Anyway, the Metafora magic was already tugging me away– and this time I knew it was because I’d properly succeeded.
***
I was still beaming when I stepped into the bustle of the faery godmothers’ office. Billy glanced at me from across the room. I winked at him and he seemed to relax. I didn’t hold a grudge against him for all the petty sanctions pushed upon me. My future was looking too bright and rosy for anything like that. Even the prospect of more trouble from the remaining trolls couldn’t dampen my joy. I felt like I was becoming a proper faery godmother. Two wishes granted. Plenty more to go.
Alicia glided past me. ‘There are some weeds on your desk,’ she sniffed. ‘You should get rid of them quickly. Some of us get terrible hayfever.’
I frowned. Weeds? I could feel my good mood evaporating. Despite it all, I still wasn’t fully accepted by my work colleagues then. I was still being targeted and put into my place. I gritted my teeth and stomped over to my desk. I’d find out who put weeds on my fucking desk and I’d make sure they regretted it. No more playing little Miss Nice. I would show them who was boss. I would…
I stopped. There, in a stunning cut crystal vase, was the largest bunch of golden dandelions I’d ever seen. I couldn’t see a card. I didn’t need one. I leaned across and plucked one out of the vase, holding it up to my nose and inhaling its sweet green scent.
Delilah raised her head and glanced at me. ‘Everything alright, Saffron?’
I just smiled at her. ‘Fabulous.’
Thank you so much for reading Wishful Thinking! The second book in the series, Wish List, will continue Saffron’s madcap attempts to become the best faery godmother in the world and will be released on October 7th, 2019. You can pre-order your copy here!
Turn over the page for a sneak peek of Chapter One of Wishful Thinking.
Wish List Chapter One
Sneak Peek!
Chapter One
‘Your wish is granted.’
The woman in front of me, who wasn’t much younger than me, gave me a long look filled with distrust and scepticism. ‘Yeah, yeah.’
I smiled at her. ‘It’s true. The job is going to be yours.’
‘They won’t hire me. No chance. Not after the way I fluffed that interview.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that.’ Although she really had messed up. Tripping over your own feet and crashing into a fire alarm so that it’s inadvertently set off and the entire building is evacuated in the middle of the most important negotiations the company has had in years is one thing; when the fire brigade arrives and you have a stand-up argument with one of the firefighters because he cheated on your best friend last week – well, that’s something else. Especially when that argument leads you to fling out your arm in a dramatic gesture and knock off the wig of the company director, who’s recently decided that being bald isn’t a fact he wishes to share with the world. Fortunately I’d waved my wand and used my magic to persuade him that he had a sense of humour. I was an unstoppable force of faery godmother magnificence. I tried to be anyway – and everyone loves a trier.
‘Keep your phone handy,’ I advised. ‘They’ll be calling soon.’
I glanced towards the television and the flickering images of the grey-haired politician who was bemoaning the state of the national press. ‘We need to be able to trust journalism in this country!’ he railed. ‘Morgan Ferguson and that rag he calls the Daily Sentinel need to uphold truth instead of making up lies!’
I picked up the remote control and muted it. The young woman smiled slightly. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I think Art Adwell is a wanker too. It’s his policies that have made it so difficult for me to find a decent job. Just because I can’t afford to be an unpaid intern shouldn’t mean I can’t get a shot at the career I want.’
‘Well,’ I told her, ‘you’ll have that shot now. I promise.’
Her hands twisted in her lap. ‘I know that I’ll be brilliant if I get the chance. But I need the chance first to prove what I can do. This is the job I’ve always wanted.’
‘I know exactly how you feel,’ I said. I tucked away my wand. ‘You’ll get the job, I promise you that. Whether you’re bri
lliant at it or not will be up to you.’
I stepped back. The atmosphere around me was already beginning to change, my surroundings blurring as the Metafora magic deemed that my work was done. Within moments I’d be transported back to the Office for Faery Godmothers. Memory magic meant that the woman would forget who I was and what I’d done for her as soon as I’d gone. There would be no thank-you cards or bouquets to tell me what a fabulous job I’d done. It was the way things went. I could live with it – mostly because I had indeed done a fabulous job and I didn’t need a box of chocolates to tell me that.
I smiled one last time and dipped into a curtsey. Her phone started to chime and I was tugged away.
Billy was waiting for me when I arrived back at the office, his weathered face set in a scowl. ‘You’ve been out visiting a client.’
I beamed. ‘I have indeed. We have another satisfied customer and it’s all thanks to me. I made someone’s dreams come true.’ I sighed happily. ‘It’s the best feeling in the world.’
His expression didn’t alter a jot. ‘You weren’t wearing your cloak. When you go out, you’re supposed to wear your pink cloak. It’s the rules.’
I stuck out my tongue. Billy had carved out an essential position for himself. He didn’t have clients or grant wishes like us faery godmothers, and he lived in fear of having his office-dogsbody job snatched away from him. To avoid that happening, he’d made a point of memorising every archaic rule and regulation in the place and noting down when anyone made so much as the slightest infraction. As a result, not only did he know all the ins and outs of the faery godmother office but everyone treated him with absolute deference to avoid being called out for breaking petty rules. I’d worked out his game on my very first day.
‘You don’t have to keep doing that,’ I told him. ‘Things are much more relaxed around here now.’ They weren’t, but we all pretended they were to make ourselves feel better.
He folded his arms. ‘The audit is starting tomorrow, Saffron.’
‘The Devil’s Advocate is a teddy bear.’ Jasper’s dark, chiselled face flashed into my mind. I certainly wouldn’t say no to a cuddle from him. ‘The audit will be fine.’
Billy snorted. ‘Tell that to everyone else around here. Do you know how many times I’ve been told to check the building’s systems? I spent all of last week making sure everything was fine and the Director still wants me to stay late tonight and re-check everything. This whole place is going mad.’
I glanced round the open-plan office. Adeline was stalking between the cubicles, barking at anyone who had so much as a speck of dust visible on their desk. There were at least twice as many cheesy motivational posters adorning the walls as there had been last week. And my nostrils were tickling from the pervading scent of honeysuckle. Usually it was a pleasant smell but right now it was so overpowering that it was making me feel vaguely nauseous. It was so strong that it would probably drown out the reek of Rupert’s expensive aftershave.
I frowned. ‘I thought we were supposed to be working on ways to keep stress to a minimum.’
Billy gave me a long look. ‘We are. That’s why you all have mandatory meditation in half an hour.’
‘I’ve got to write up my report! I don’t have time for meditation.’
‘You’ll have to make time. Everyone’s got to be there.’
I registered the amused twinkle in his eyes. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’
‘Om.’ He brought his hands together as if in prayer. ‘Meditation is better than sneaking out to procure illegal drugs to deal with stress and getting yourself kidnapped by vengeful trolls.’
I had my doubts about that. I tutted loudly to emphasise my feelings on the matter and stomped off to my desk.
Delilah, who used the cubicle next to me, was at her desk. When I plonked myself down, she leaned back in her chair. ‘You won’t believe what I’ve heard,’ she breathed.
The fastest way to extricate myself from this sort of conversation was to humour her. ‘Go on,’ I sighed, turning on my computer in an ill-fated bid to multitask.
‘Lydia’s not returning to work,’ she said. ‘She’s decided that being ear-less and pinky-less is enough reason to request a disability pay out and leave the faery godmothers for good.’
‘She’s still got one ear,’ I pointed out. Bernard, the troll who had kidnapped her in a bid to sow terror and destroy the future for faery godmothers, had sliced off her left ear and chopped off both her little fingers before sending the gruesome appendages to us in neat boxes wrapped up with little bows. I didn’t blame Lydia for not returning. I gazed down at my own full array of fingers and felt a twinge of empathetic pain. I shook it off and typed in my password before bringing up a blank wish report onto my screen.
‘The matter of her resignation is not the interesting part,’ she said. She lowered her voice. ‘She’s been seen having dinner with the Devil’s Advocate. Twice.’
I froze. ‘What?’
‘Philippa saw them having a cosy little tête-a-tête on Saturday night at Patrek’s. And Matt in Accounting saw them last night walking down the street together.’
I swallowed. It was just gossip; it didn’t mean anything. ‘He’s probably debriefing her on everything she learned about the trolls while she was their kidnap victim.’
Delilah laughed. ‘Oh, I’m sure he was debriefing her. Just maybe not in the way that you think.’
I started to type furiously. ‘I’m very busy. I’ve got to get this report finished before the meditation starts.’ I kept my eyes fixed firmly on the screen but I felt Delilah’s disappointed gaze on me for a few moments longer. Then she huffed and turned away to her own work while I stared at the misspelled gobbledegook I’d typed.
***
‘Close your eyes.’
Why should I care about what the Devil’s Advocate was doing with someone else?
‘Relax your toes. And your ankles. Release the tension from your calves and then your knees.’
It wasn’t as if Jasper had made me any promises.
‘Feel the warmth spread upwards.’
It wasn’t as if anything had really happened between us.
‘Block out everything and focus on your heartbeat.’
Apart from one steamy – albeit sort of faked – kiss.
‘Listen to the sound it makes. Da-dum.’
Apart from the flowers he’d sent me.
‘Da-dum.’
Apart from the way we’d bonded together as the perfect team.
‘Da-dum.’
Apart from the way I’d saved his ungrateful arse from becoming troll food.
‘Breathe in and feel the air fill your lungs.’
That was it. He was the high and mighty Devil’s Advocate and he’d needed me to rescue him. Now he felt pathetic.
‘Breathe out.’
Either that or he’d decided I wasn’t good enough for him. I wasn’t from the right sort of faery family.
‘Breathe in once more.’
Anyway, I was too good to waste my time pining after a man. Such shenanigans would only interfere with my bid to become the best faery godmother the world had ever seen.
‘Picture yourself in your happy place.’
His green eyes, darker-than-dark hair and fanny-fluttering good looks flashed irritatingly into my head.
‘You’ve never felt more relaxed than this.’
‘Oh fuck off,’ I said aloud.
There was a sudden intake of breath from around the room. Uh-oh. I peeked open one eye and slowly sat up. ‘Sorry,’ I muttered. ‘I was thinking of something else.’
The look the instructor gave me was one of mild reproach. The look the Director gave me, from where she was viewing proceedings but not participating, was considerably stronger. ‘Saffron,’ she snapped. ‘My office. Now.’
I grimaced then got to my feet and stepped over the supine bodies. All the other faery godmothers kept their eyes firmly shut but I saw more than one mouth twitch in
amusement. At least I was providing the office with some entertainment, I thought sourly.
***
‘What exactly is your problem, Saffron?’ the Director enquired. ‘Need I remind you that you are still on probation? We are taking considerable steps to improve the well-being of every faery in this office. You seem determined to thwart those steps at every opportunity.’
That was a bit unfair. As far as I was concerned, my thwarting was at an absolute minimum. If I’d truly wanted to thwart things I would have thwarted them, but that was the exact opposite of what I wanted to do. I was still on shaky ground with the Director, however. I might no longer admire her in the way that I had when I’d first started this job, but I still wanted to impress her. I still wanted to be the best.
I had to choose my words carefully. ‘I didn’t mean for it to happen. I was just…’ Fuck a puck. I couldn’t tell her what I’d been thinking about. ‘I was just worrying about the trolls. They won’t stay hidden for long. They’ll be planning something else. We know that their goal is to see this office in ruins and to have the very idea of faery godmothers consigned to the history books. We need to do something to pre-empt the next strike before disaster ensues.’
‘So when you told the yoga faery, who we brought in at great expense, to fuck off it was because you could not find it in yourself to relax?’
Damn it. ‘I didn’t tell the yoga faery to fuck off.’
Her eyebrows rose upwards. ‘I was there. That’s certainly what it sounded like to me.’
This wasn’t going well. ‘I said fuck off but I wasn’t saying it to the yoga faery. I wasn’t saying it to anyone.’ I grimaced, feeling my cheeks grow warmer. ‘Well, apart from the imaginary trolls in my head. I didn’t mean to say it aloud.’
‘Ri-ight,’ she said slowly. ‘Well, if the thought of the trolls bothers you that much, I can arrange for occupational health to have a chat with you. Some therapy might help.’
