‘Another one’s appeared, on the oak tree, pathetic and disrespectful, cultural appropriation or is it misappropriation?’
‘Just ignore them Oberon.’
‘I’m going to take my axe to it this time.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous, they aren’t causing any harm to us, not compared with all the other stuff they do.’
‘What if one of our folk thought it was a real door!’
‘Daddy, why have you got an axe?’
‘Your father’s getting overwrought over the giants again. If you’re not careful Oberon they’re going to see you and then where will we be, doesn’t bear thinking.’
‘Mummy, you said the giants wouldn’t hurt us.’
‘They won’t as long as they don’t believe we exist. Anyway, it’s time you were getting ready for school, have you brushed your wings?’
The home of Cousin Ruth stood out in the row of large Victorian terraced houses. The front garden was packed with raised beds of vegetables and wigwams of runner beans. Lottie had never had much success with vegetables so she was impressed. Before she could peer closer as Tilly and Wesley ushered her up the garden path, the front door flew open and dogs and children hurtled out.
‘Just stand still’ said Tilly, doing the same.
Wesley obviously knew the routine and swept up an escaping toddler, kicked the front gate shut and herded dogs and children through the front door.
‘Wait for the dust to settle’ added Tilly.
As the sound of barking receded Cousin Ruth emerged. She enveloped Lottie in layers of crocheted poncho and guided her inside, warning her to mind the toys. Lottie stepped over a huge dinosaur and dodged a strange lurid pink wheeled contraption. More dogs appeared and she would have been happy to pet them if she had been wearing casual clothes instead of one of her smart book launch outfits.
‘Come through, come through, Kizzy made you some cakes at Brownies.’
Lottie hoped the baking facilities at Brownies were cleaner than the kitchen she glimpsed through a half open door. She was led into a large sitting room where adults were gathered. Tilly appeared at her side.
‘Lottie is a famous author, I’ve read all her best selling novels.’
Nobody looked very impressed.
‘I don’t have time to read’ said Ruth.
‘Hey Lottie, did you hear the joke about the dumb blonde who was asked if she would like a book for her birthday… No thanks, I’ve already got one.’
‘Dad, you can’t say that, politically incorrect.’
‘But I like dumb blondes, I married one didn’t I?’
‘Down Flossie, sorry Lottie, she gets over excited, Bernie put the kettle on. Bernie is Geoff’s son, Geoff is husband number three, he has a large family too, but when he moved in here we weren’t expecting to both have adult children moving back in or to have grandchildren dumped on us. This is Oliver, husband number one, still good friends and Elspeth his wife, they both wanted to meet you and of course some of these grand brats are his as well. Sally did you order the pizzas, is that Dominoes you’re talking to?’
‘No, just booking my flight, I’ll do the pizzas next.’
In the midst of the confusion a child thrust a puppy into Lottie’s arms. It was undeniably cute and fluffy. Her handbag dropped to the floor, but at least she hadn’t dropped the puppy. She felt quite protective, how could this tiny being survive the tumult around it.
‘Sit down, sit down.’
Lottie was thankful to sink into a spot at the end of the sofa, a cosy corner of cushions and puppies as another tiny dog was placed in her lap. For a moment she thought longingly of her little cottage waiting for her return on Sunday evening, but as she looked around she realised she was experiencing life with a capital L. Life went on, it had not ceased when Callum died. Although her head was spinning she felt new ideas tumbling into her brain. Her next novel with the renegade vicar would feature love for real people; families tossed up into the air like a broken jigsaw and tumbling down into a different picture of blended families and romance for each generation. This family certainly seemed very happy.
As Lottie imagined her first chapter her thoughts were interrupted by a piercing scream and a child sobbing.
‘Granny, Tommy pushed her down the stairs, not me.’
Lottie clasped the puppies, she felt a maternal need to protect them from Tommy.
Ruth darted out into the hall and yelled up the stairs, hauled back a child from entering the adults only zone, then shortly returned with two mugs in each hand.
‘Is tea okay, Bernie forgot to ask what you like.’
‘Fine, fine’ said Lottie, wondering where she would put a mug or how she would hold it with her hands buried in warm puppies.
‘I’ll put it on the mantlepiece, we keep all hot drinks up there. Now, I hear that the fairies were a complete surprise, Callum never told you, he must have been in complete denial, which is a shame, because we would have believed him now we have seen them at the bottom of our garden.’
Lottie wondered if this was a joke, had the whole thing been an elaborate joke, but Ruth’s expression looked genuine so she couldn’t resist asking if she could see them.
‘It doesn’t really work like that, we have never told the children.’
‘That’s a relief… I mean I guess you need to protect them.’
‘That’s why we grow the veg in the front garden. When we bought this place we loved the long garden, even though it had run wild. I jokingly said I was going to look for fairies down the bottom of the garden and imagine my surprise when I saw them. We didn’t want to harm them, make the same mistake as Callum’s parents, so we built a wall across and never kept cats. Occasionally I see one on top of the wall watching when the children are playing in their part of the garden, I’m sure they wink and wave. In recent times we have put cctv up and observed them properly and secretly. We never told anyone and we tell new neighbours we are rewilding. Can you imagine scientists wanting to examine them or worse, fairieknappers…’
Charlotte paused, she was even beginning to believe in fairies herself. Was this for real? Her novel about Lottie was meant to be light hearted and fun and if people believed in angels and people used to believe in fairies…
Tilly was guarding the door as Ruth tapped her mobile phone then showed Lottie a picture. Little people, very tiny when you saw them under dandelions. Not like children’s Victorian books, actual miniature people, but with wings, genuine wings, they were flying. Lottie gasped and glanced at Tilly and Wesley, the only adults who were probably sensible.
‘Wesley, have you seen them, is this all for real?’
‘Well the Church of England doesn’t do Fairies but…’
‘They do angels’ said Tilly ‘so why not believe in fairies.’
‘Yes, all God’s creatures are entitled to their own lives so we have a sacred duty to protect them Lottie.’
‘Their secret is safe with me and I certainly won’t write them in my novels, I don’t think my readers’ credibility would stretch that far.’
Lottie thought she must have misheard. She was sitting in the strange but cosy flat that was home to Tilly and her new husband, Wesley the young vicar.
Wesley continued ‘Yes, that’s the family story. Callum came home from university for the holidays, or at least it wasn’t his home as his parents had moved, upsized to a cottage with a long garden. Gardening was going to be their retirement project. Various relatives had gathered to see the new home, but it was Callum who was first to venture into the impenetrable overgrowth. It wasn’t called rewilding back then. Aunty Ruth, Callum’s cousin, was there, well she wasn’t an aunty then, a bit of a wild child, called in to say farewell before going off on her travels. She thought Callum a very studious serious chap, that’s why she was so surprised when he returned to the house with lots of scratches and an angry cat in his arms exclaiming ‘There are fairies at the bottom of the garden.’
He claimed he had caught the cat just in time, but the fairies could be in danger and must be protected in the interests of science.
‘Well’ said Lottie ‘he did have a science degree, but he never mentioned fairies. But then he never mentioned his family either.’
Charlotte paused with her fingers above the keyboard, then scrolled back to see if she had given Callum any family. Hmm not many family was different from not any family. Were his parents dead when Lottie met him? When did she meet him? He was the love of her life so they were probably young…. Perhaps this vicar chap could fill in some gaps for Lottie.
‘Wesley, do fill in a few gaps for me’ said Lottie ‘Callum was an only child?’
‘Yes, unusual for our family, they made sure he had a good education and had high hopes for him.’
‘And he is, was very successful in his career, but not arrogant, happy to support my career.’
‘But his parents did not get to share that success?’ mused Tilly ‘or have gran…’ she blushed and stuttered.
‘It’s okay,’ said Lottie ‘neither of us wanted children, we were happy as we were with each other and as his parents were supposedly dead there was no pressure.’
‘Were they dead?’ said Tilly, obviously enjoying this new family mystery.
‘Well they are now’ laughed Wesley ‘think they had him late in life, but I have no idea when they died.’
‘So when do we get to the part of the story that explains why Callum was estranged from his family. Is estranged too strong a word, lots of cousins don’t keep in touch.’
‘He was upset that nobody believed him, I mean if you really saw fairies it would be amazing. Alas no smart phones then, imagine if he had taken photos, put them on Facebook… anyway the first problem was that the cat was his parents’ new rescue cat, a spiteful creature apparently, but they adored him and Callum took it straight back to the rescue centre.’
‘But surely a cat couldn’t cause a family rift?’
‘Worse was to come. Callum found plenty of wood, wire netting etc in an old shed and erected a fence, creating a fairy sanctuary. He pleaded with his parents not to touch the bottom of the garden while he worked out how to set up observation, David Attenborough style and what experts he could find who would believe him.’
‘I can’t imagine that would be easy’ said Tilly. ‘I never thought about fairies seriously before, but how would they survive with all the dangers from foxes and human boots, it doesn’t bear thinking of.’
‘I agree’ said Lottie. ‘Callum did like butterflies and insects, would never kill a spider and it was bees that became his main work before it was fashionable to worry about bees.’
‘Oh how lovely,’ said Tilly ‘perhaps he was always hoping he would see fairies again.’
‘That is a nice thought, but why didn’t he tell me, I would not have laughed.’
‘I’m not sure I should tell you two ladies the rest of the story, you may find it disturbing as they say on the news.’
‘You have to tell us now’ said Tilly.
‘Callum was due to go off on a uni. expedition to Scotland or wherever, and he left with nobody believing a word he said, thought he was having them on, trying to be clever just because he had made it to university. When he returned a week later his parents had rotovated the whole garden ready for their vegetable beds and fruit trees.’
‘Oh no’ cried Tilly.
‘But then what happened?’ said Lottie.
‘I think he went back to carry on with his studies and no one heard from him again.’
‘He had Cousin Ruth’s address, so surely he had some notion he would get in touch one day.’
‘I’m sure he did’ said Tilly ‘and don’t you worry about what the rest of the family say this afternoon.’
Lottie’s heart sank, she just wanted to stay with Tilly and Wesley in their cosy nook.
‘Oh dear, what’s happening this afternoon?’
‘Round to Aunty Ruth’s to meet the rest of the family.’
‘But I thought I met them at dinner.’
‘Some of them.’
Lottie hoped to delay venturing out.
‘Tell me about this place, why is it called The Transept’.
‘De-consecrated church that was going to be sub divided into flats, but they only got ours in the east transept finished before lockdown and the builders going into liquidation. So we did some reclaiming and hold relaxed services in the nave, unofficially; the bishop is not quite sure what to do with us. You can come to messy church tomorrow, the rest of the family will be there.’
Lottie was feeling a bit overwhelmed, but after having writer’s block when Callum died she began to feel a romantic novel coming on, a novel about a renegade vicar…
‘I should tell you I don’t go to church Wesley.’
‘That’s okay, I don’t read your novels, romance not really my thing. But anyone can come to our services.’
Charlotte paused, that was enough writing for today. How on earth had fairies got into the story, oh yes, she was going to the offbeat writers group down by the river and their topic was fairies at the bottom of the garden.
Times and Tides of a Beachwriter 