Faerie Wars | The Purple Emperor
Ruler of the Realm

Faerie Wars

At breakfast with his parents, Henry senses a very frosty atmosphere. Both keep pretending everything is fine, but later,  in the car with his dad, Henry takes the opportunity to try to find out what the trouble is.

‘What was all that about, Dad?’ Henry asked as he clicked his seatbelt.

His father said nothing, but pulled out of the drive far too fast and without really looking.

Henry noticed Mum wasn’t standing at the door to wave them off as she usually did.

Henry sat in the passenger seat feeling nervous. He hated it when his parents fought. You could cut the tension with a knife and now Dad was in a mood. They didn’t do it very often which made this one all the more worrying. Henry told himself it was probably nothing, but that didn’t stop the worry. He knew five kids at school whose folks were divorced.

His father said something, but Henry missed it. He dragged his attention back from his thoughts. ‘Sorry, Dad?’

‘This Mr Fogarty — what’s he like?’

‘Old guy. You know ... ’ Henry shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about Mr Fogarty. He wanted to find out what was wrong between his mum and dad.

‘No, I don’t know,’ Dad said shortly. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’

He was uptight because of Mum. Henry said, ‘Pensioner. Seventy, eighty — I don’t know. Old guy. His house is a mess.’

‘And you’re cleaning it for him?’

If this had been Mum, the question would be followed by So how is it you never clean your room?, but with Dad what you saw was what you got. Or sort of. They’d been through all this before. But Dad was clearly hassled because of Mum. He was driving too fast, for one thing. ‘Sort of,’ Henry said. ‘I clean up a bit, but some of the time he just wants to talk.’ And some of the time he didn’t. Mr Fogarty was weird, believed in ghosts and fairies, but he wasn’t about to mention that. Weird or not, Mr Fogarty paid on the nail and Henry was saving for an MP3 player.

‘About what?’

‘What?’

‘Talk about what? You said some of the time he just wants to talk. Talk about what?’

‘This and that,’ Henry said.

All his father’s pent-up frustration suddenly exploded. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Henry, has he made you sign the Official Secrets Act? I just want to know what sort of thing you chat about. You’re my son. I take an interest.’

Henry said, ‘You wouldn’t slow down, would you Dad? You’ve got the heir with you.’
His dad glared at him for a moment, then grinned for the first time that morning and the tension in the car suddenly lifted. ‘Sorry, old son,’ he said softly. ‘I really shouldn’t take it out on you.’ He eased his foot back off the pedal.

Henry sat back in his seat and watched the trees and hedges whizzing by.
Mr Fogarty lived in a small two-up, two-down at the end of a cul de sac on the edge of town. Henry’s father pulled in on the corner. ‘There you go,’ he said. ‘Don’t work too hard.’

‘You too,’ Henry said. He reached for the handle, then stopped.

Dad said, ‘Might see you this evening, son. Before you go off to Charlie’s.’

Henry said, ‘Are you having an affair with Anaïs, Dad?’

© Herbie Brennan