Life in a Pear Tree

by

Nichole Rupp

Submitted for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy

University of Surrey

Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences

School of English and Languages

Supervisor: Paul Vlitos

©Nichole Rupp……2017

Declaration of Originality

This thesis and the work to which it refers are the results of my own efforts. Any

ideas, data, images or text resulting from the work of others (whether published or

unpublished) are fully identified as such within the work and attributed to their originator in

the text, bibliography or in footnotes. This thesis has not been submitted in whole or in part

for any other academic degree or professional qualification. I agree that the University has

the right to submit my work to the plagiarism detection service TurnitinUK for originality

checks. Whether or not drafts have been so-assessed, the University reserves the right to

require an electronic version of the final document (as submitted) for assessment as above.

Signature ________________________________

Date _______________________

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Summary

The novel portion of this project, Life in a Pear Tree, is a fictional autobiography that tells

the story of the American author’s short time managing a London pub. To assist in

understanding the experience, a fairy tale story is woven through the real life events, inviting

the reader to question truth and fact, fantasy and reality. Chapter one of the accompanying

critical portion provides a background of fairy tale stories and the issues with defining the

term. It also introduces P.L. Travers as an expert in the study of fairy tale and examines her

little-known writings on fairy tale and related topics. Chapter two discusses autobiographical

writing and its construction, examining the idea of truth vs. fact in regards to memory and

creating a personal narrative. Chapter three introduces Travers’ Mary Poppins novels as

potential fairy tale writing, and explores the idea of subversion within the books. Lastly,

Chapter four binds together the previous chapters’ discussion of fairy tale, autobiography,

reality, memory, and truth with the idea of looking beyond the surface. This chapter invites

the reader to consider the duality of human nature by examining Travers, fairy tale stories,

Mary Poppins, and Life in a Pear Tree. The background of the novel’s creation and

examination of the various characters and themes is the main focus.

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Acknowledgements

To thank my advisor Paul Vlitos would be a terribly inadequate way to convey how grateful I

am to him for the patient and tireless way in which he has guided me through the process of

writing my novel/dissertation these past three years. As there is a woeful lack of synonyms

for the word thank, I am forced to simply thank him nonetheless: for being sensitive in

responding to the emotional and mental trauma involved in writing a memoir, for always

knowing which articles or books would be just the thing I would need to help push my

thoughts forward, and for reading every awful draft of every chapter in the short time my

procrastination gave him. I have learned so much from him and he will forever have my

gratitude.

I would also like to thank my sister, Shannon, for not only reading novel drafts and being

complimentary and encouraging, but for believing so much more than I ever did, that one day

I would complete my first novel.

Lastly, I would like to thank my friends, especially Angela – best friend, sometimes boss, and

former flatmate – for being so understanding about the potentially hundreds of last-minute

cancellations of my attendance at various activities since I started this project. Thanks for

never ceasing to invite me along anyway. You have made what was very nearly a hermit’s

existence, significantly less lonely and isolated.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Fairy Tale - A Style of Writing 6

Chapter 2: Memoir - A Fictional Construct 20

Chapter 3: Mary Poppins as Fairy Tale 32

Chapter 4: Life in a Pear Tree - Looking Beneath the

Surface

44

Novel: Life in a Pear Tree 54

Bibliography 235

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Chapter 1: Fairy Tale - A Style of Writing

Introduction

What is a fairy tale? Scholars debate this question as there are multiple methods for

categorisation and many proposed definitions. In The Postmodern Fairytale (2007) Smith

addresses this issue, “One of the problems of attempting to locate a fairy tale intertext is that

the term ‘fairy tale’ itself is an ill-defined construction lacking any sort of stable definition”

(Smith, 2). Many of the stories under this heading are stories without fairies, the term more of

an ideal than a descriptor. Scholars feel a need to classify these types of stories in order to

examine the relationships between two texts. It is difficult to determine if a specific story or

book is a fairy tale when there is no agreement as to what a fairy tale is or whether a

particular author can be included in the discussion for the same reason. Is P.L. Travers’ Mary

Poppins a fairy tale? Is Neil Gaiman writing fantasy, magical realism, or brand new fairy

tales with Neverwhere (1996) and Stardust (1999)? Are fairy tale and fantasy separate genres

or interchangeable terms? These are questions that a definition of fairy tale would help to

answer. However, the same problem of definition applies to other commonly accepted genre

headings such as fantasy, for example, as fantasy, folk tale, or fairy tale appear to cross over

one another. The history and issues of classification will be addressed subsequently.

From the end of the 19th century, experts in the fields of mythology, folk tale, and

fantasy literature began weighing in on the fairy tale question. George MacDonald, C.S.

Lewis, J.R.R Tolkien, Claude Lévi-Strauss, Bruno Bettelheim, and others, approached the

question of what is a fairy tale. Modern scholars, when continuing the on-going debate,

continually refer to these authors. Some of the most prominent modern voices will be

examined in this study as they encompass and expand the views of their predecessors.

However, there is one contemporary of these turn-of-the-century experts that has not been

included in any of the modern discussion: P.L. Travers (1899-1996). She has been studied

independently, but her research and writing on fairy tale, myth, and fantasy, has not been

examined alongside more popular writers in this field. She wrote eight books in her well-

known Mary Poppins series. She also published multiple novels that never achieved the same

popularity over the course of her ninety-six years. Even lesser-known are her essays on myth,

story, and legend, many that were published over several years in Parabola, The Magazine of

Myth and Tradition (1976). Most of the Parabola essays were compiled into What the Bee

Knows: Reflections on Myth, Symbol, and Story (2010), and it is from this compilation of

essays on various themes that much of the material in this dissertation has been drawn.

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Her writing on story and symbol is extensive, as she had a lifetime of hands-on

learning that contributed to her expertise on myth and fairy tale. Growing up on aboriginal

tales in her native Australia, traveling half-way around the world to England, studying Native

American myth and receiving her own secret name from the Navajo, and experiencing the

traditions of the Far East; she is an additional voice to bring clarity to the fairy tale discussion

having examined the topics of myth and legend from a variety of angles (Haggarty, 21). With

contemporaries, such as Tolkien, Lewis, Bettelheim, and so many others, she is a

knowledgeable source, because of her extensive background knowledge and work, that puts

the writings of these other authors in perspective.

Background: P.L. Travers

To understand whom Travers was and how her work fits into the larger discussion, a

short biography is in order. Helen Lyndon Goff was born on 9 August 1899 in Maryborough,

Queensland to Travers Robert Goff and Margaret Morehead. As a child, she dreamed of her

father’s native Ireland and was captivated by the fairy tales told to her in her youth and read

from an edition of Grimms’ tales, one of the few books available to her. Her father died when

she was nine and this had a profound impact on her life, as she would seek and find a series

of men who fostered her learning and growth as a writer, her father having been the first. She

has also credited a turbulent childhood for her jump into not just reading fairy tales, but

creating them for herself and siblings.

Eventually she would take her father’s first name as her surname and dabble in

journalism, acting, poetry, and other ventures as Pamela Lyndon Travers. In January 1924,

she boarded a ship to England. Valerie Lawson writes, “When she allowed herself to dream,

the pragmatic Pamela faded behind her fantasy that she was now embarked on a mythical

journey. She believed she was sailing to her romantic motherland…” (Lawson, 82). England,

and Europe, were lands as far and as near as the fairy lands she constructed from the

landscape around her as a child. Like many before and after her, she went in search of the

fantastic, with England as the gateway to her own yellow brick road. Almost a century later

Salman Rushdie would echo this, “…I remember that when the possibility of my going to

school in England was mentioned, it felt as exciting as a voyage over rainbows. England felt

as wonderful a prospect as Oz” (Rushdie, 4).

While travelling and making connections with writing contemporaries, the first Mary

Poppins story was written and published in 1934 (House, 26). She made life-long friends with

AE Russell at this time, and he introduced her to Yeats, Padraic Colum, James Stephens, and

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other influential writers, while encouraging and fostering her writing. Her next big influence

would be Alfred Richard Orage, a former schoolteacher and editor of New English Weekly

(1932), who would eventually introduce her to the man who was his major influence, George

Ivanovitch Gurdjieff. After this introduction, Travers’ spiritual learning would deepen and

her devotion to theosophy would guide the rest of her travels and writing for the remainder of

her life.

She was an authoritative voice in the world of fairy tale and myth, with a multitude of

writings on the topic in story and essay form. Her research and views have not been

considered as part of the larger discourse, although she was right in line with the academics

of her day. For example, her book On the Sleeping Beauty (1973) was published the same

year as Bruno Bettelheim’s well-known work The Uses of Enchantment (1973), and yet her

expertise in philosophy, myth, fairy tale, and ‘primitive’ studies has been largely unnoticed

by scholars in her lifetime to the present day. After a brief history of the fairy tale, this

chapter will present a hypothesis on why fairy tales have not been easily classified or defined

as a genre, and along with the well-known authorities on this topic, Travers’ own writings

will be included to establish her expertise on the subject.

Definition of a Fairy Tale

The absence of a shared understanding of what constitutes a fairy tale is a result of the

evolution of the fairy tale itself. It is one of the oldest types of story, and pre-dates writing,

having its beginnings in the oral tradition, as most tales that are known were written down by

different people but understood to not be the original creations of the recorders. The

originator of the term fairy tale was Madame d’Aulnoy who compiled many of the tales

familiar today in a collection titled Les Contes des Fées (1697). Her use of the word ‘fairy’

has often been objected to, although still used, as a good majority of stories under the heading

do not contain fairies as a being. The term remained in wide-spread use, regardless of these

objections. The next round of story collection can be attributed to the major work of the

Grimm Brothers who began publishing in 1812. They adapted works from Madame

d’Aulnoy’s contemporary, Charles Perrault, as well as German folk tales, and further

collections from all parts of Europe.

Antti Aarne created one of the first classification systems in 1910, translated by Stith

Thompson for use in the United States in 1928, in an attempt to separate these tales for

evaluation and analysis. Vladimir Propp was a critic of the Aarne-Thompson classification

system as it is based on different motifs in the stories e.g. Religious tales or Animal tales,

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potentially grouping together or leaving out stories that should be looked at together per

Propp, based on the theme of the story. He published Morphology of the Folktale (1928)

which broke down tales into thirty-one functions with titles such as ‘interdiction,’ ‘departure,’

and ‘branding.’ These types of technical analysis and the various discussions and criticisms

of each are the beginnings of the debate around defining the fairy tale.

Like the more methodical classification systems of Propp, Aarne, and Thompson,

Jessica Tiffin takes a technical approach when trying to define fairy tale. She states in the

opening of her book Marvelous Geometry (2009), “what distinguishes the fairy tale is a

certain kind of writing…” (Tiffin, 5). She uses this idea of a ‘certain kind of writing’ in an

attempt to define the fairy tale by examining the structure of the writing itself. She states the

critical means of recognising the fairy tale are in the texture and effect of the writing. She

recognises that these two elements are what can be agreed upon, by both the writer and the

reader, in a sort of mutual recognition that the work is a form of fairy tale. She is of the mind

that a reader will know a fairy tale when they see it by the “recognisable fairy-tale texture,

that is, overall effect, which relies on elements of pattern, structure, simplification…and a

tone of certainty which necessitates a response of accepting wonder in the reader” (Tiffin, ii).

Neil Gaiman wrote about the development of his book Stardust (1999) which he intended to

be a fairy tale for grown-ups (Gaiman 2007). He supports Tiffin with a description of his

writing style in the article ‘Happily Ever After’ (2007), “The voice sounded like the voice I

needed - a little stilted and old-fashioned, the voice of a fairy tale. I wanted to write a story

that would feel, to the reader, like something he or she had always known. Something

familiar, even if the elements were as original as I could make them.” Instead of trying to

definitively say what a fairy tale is, or to determine which works fit into a fairy tale genre,

this chapter will instead assert that fairy tale is not a genre itself, but a style of writing, to be

used by multiple genres.

This idea was recently discussed at the Fairy Tale Remix panel at ComicCon in San

Diego. Duckett (2014) reports:

Fairy tales already comprise a mishmash of genres, from fantasy to historical narrative to parable, so, as Hale pointed out, “it’s easy to slide a new genre in there...” In traditional fairy tales, several panellists noted, the reader takes everything for granted, and characters lack real development, with motivations and personalities sketched in only the faintest of outlines. When an author chooses to retell a tale, they’re able to explore those unturned pages, and invent answers to the questions that often bugged them as kids, or occurred to them as adults.

Tiffin continued this line of thinking by saying:

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Recognition of fairy tale relies on its striking motifs and circumscribed and predictable plot structures, and also on its status as a marvellous form. Fairy-tale narratives deny reality not only in their calm acceptance of the magical but also in their refusal to provide any sort of realistic detail or conventional causal logic to the worlds they describe. (Tiffin, 4)

Tolkien has also written on this topic in the 1947 essay ‘On Fairy Stories,’ and agrees that

while everything cannot be considered fairy tale and there is no way to classify it as a genre,

the reader can recognise these tales.

What is a fairy-story? …fairy-tale is recorded since the year 1750, and its leading sense is said to be (a) a tale about fairies, or generally a fairy legend; with developed senses, (b) an unreal or incredible story, and (c) a falsehood. The last two senses would obviously make my topic hopelessly vast… The definition of a fairy-story - what it is, or what it should be - does not, then, depend on any definition or historical account of elf or fairy, but upon the nature of Faërie: the Perilous Realm itself, and the air that blows in that country. I will not attempt to define that, or to describe it directly. It cannot be done. Faërie cannot be caught in a net of words; for it is one of its qualities to be indescribable, though not imperceptible… For the moment, I will say only this: a “fairy story” is one which touches on or uses Faerie, whatever its own main purpose may be: satire, adventure, morality, fantasy. (Tolkien, 1)

Tolkien does not define the realm of Faerie, calling it indescribable, but he points out that it is

not imperceptible. Faerie, for the purposes of this study, can be defined as anything touching

a world outside of the world seen and experienced by the majority of people in the modern

age. This would be the opposite of the term Primary World, which Tolkien uses to describe

the non-magic world experienced today. The terms Faerie, the world of imagination and

possibility, and Primary World, the non-magic world seen to be reality, will be used

throughout this study.

Difficulties in Defining a Fairy Tale

Kevin Paul Smith stated he would be attempting a definition of the fairy tale in his

book The Postmodern Fairytale: Folkloric Intertexts in Contemporary Fiction (2007).

However, his work only identifies the problems with defining the term and concludes it

cannot be done, as quoted at the beginning of this chapter. The inclusion of a wide variety of

story types, generally understood to be fairy tales, is a hindrance in narrowing down a

definition. Therefore, he settles on a working definition that will help his readers understand

what he means by the term and moves forward with his thesis. He does discuss some expert

opinions on which stories can be classified as fairy tale and which cannot. For instance, he

notes that Bruno Bettelheim argued if a story, long considered a fairy tale, such as Charles

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Perrault’s Bluebeard (1659) does not contain any magical elements it cannot be considered

while also contending that any story without a happy ending cannot be included under the

fairy tale heading (3). Discussion or definition of fairy tale, if approached as being a question

of genre, is problematic, as many works do not fit into just one category or another. Smith

appears to have determined this difficulty early on and worked with the best make-shift

definition that suited his purpose. His inability to streamline a definition for fairy tale and the

evidence that fairy tales simply do not conform to an easily definable set of rules lends

support to this chapter’s assertion that the fairy tale is a style of writing.

Ursula Le Guin has commented on similar problems with defining a fantasy book in

her essay ‘From Elfland to Poughkeepsie’ (1973). There seems to be an overall difficulty in

defining writings fantastic in nature, and her thoughts are applicable to the same question

with the fairy tale. She mostly managed to help readers determine what a fantasy story is not,

and additionally, supports the idea that the style of writing is the key. She shows there is a

danger in explaining too much or using the wrong language, resulting in an inappropriate

style where, with the simple act of changing a few words, the magic is lost and Faerie

becomes the Primary World. The most important task of any writer in constructing a story

made up of elements not found in the Primary World is to make it so believable or believe in

it so firmly themselves that the reader is swept away by the experience with no time to pause

and question. For a fairy tale to be a fairy tale or a fantasy a fantasy the writer must create

convincingly. When switching the setting of a story back and forth between the Primary

World and Faerie as C.S. Lewis does in the Narnia books, it must be done expertly and

boldly. Tolkien warns against asking or answering too many questions:

The realm of fairy story is wide and deep and high and filled with many things: all manner of beasts and birds are found there; shoreless seas and stars uncounted; beauty that is an enchantment, and an ever-present peril; both joy and sorrow as sharp as swords. In that realm a man may, perhaps, count himself fortunate to have wandered, but its very richness and strangeness tie the tongue of a traveller who would report them. And while he is there it is dangerous for him to ask too many questions, lest the gates should be shut and the keys are lost. (Tolkien, 1)

This basic idea of believability is the foundation of the fairy tale. The style of fairy tale

writing informs the reader what to expect and it is in silent agreement with the fantastic tales

that there should not be any technical questions about how the journey to some place outside

time works scientifically. This suspension of disbelief allows the reader to experience the

story, its many possible layers of meaning, and to answer those deeper questions for

themselves.

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The point of the fairy tale is that it lies firmly in the land of possibility. The challenge

in making a story believable per Ursula Le Guin, is dependent on the writing style. She says,

“…a writer may use all the trappings of fantasy without ever imagining anything. My

argument is that this failure, this fakery, is visible instantly in the style” (Le Guin, 153). That

style defines a work seems clear, with an example of this being George Orwell’s Animal

Farm (1945). Although subtitled ‘A Fairy Story,’ the style and tone do not match up with the

bulk of work accepted as fairy tale. It has been proposed that he did this with ironic intent as

the book is an allegory of events building up to the Russian Revolution, however, the book

does include some recognisable fairy tale elements such as talking animal characters and

clear heroes and villains. However, while some fairy tales are dark and brooding without a

happy ending like in Animal Farm, it is not written in a recognisable fairy tale style.

Bettelheim and Travers

Bruno Bettelheim’s work The Uses of Enchantment (1976) discusses whether, or even

how, questioning a tale should take place. As a therapist and teacher of children with severe

mental issues, his take on the importance of the fairy tale, used as therapy for these children,

is concise and distinctive due to his practical application of these stories. He asserts that the

fairy tale is simplistic in nature but “more can be learned from them about the inner problems

of human beings, and of the right solutions to their predicaments in any society, than from

any other type of story…” (Bettelheim, 5). That both the child and adult can find deeper

meanings in these tales, would speak to their pervasive nature and the continued fascination

with these stories told and re-told through time. Per Bettelheim, a fairy tale should simply be

passed on from person to person without explanation of the fantastic, too much character

examination, or much psychoanalysis of the characters. These tales exist to highlight that

good is good and bad is bad, and these extremes are simplified and do not cross the dividing

line to teach children how to behave in society.

Travers published a review of his book in Parabola in 1976, ‘The Once and Future

Treasure,’ that first outlines her trepidation at mixing psychologists and fairy tales for fear

that their intent is only to “tear it to pieces, as hunting hounds do a hare…” (Travers 1976:

112). She lauded his respect for the fairy tale and his emphasis on not asking too many

questions, but letting the tales work within the reader, as she always suggests, to experience

the meaning for themselves. However, she critiques his over-arching interest in dividing good

and evil, “…making of them polarities instead of complements. The fairy tale does not

choose between them. It shows their interaction…Without the element of evil how will the

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story be thrown forward to the ultimate happy end?” (Travers 1976: 112-113). While

Bettelheim tries to separate positive human nature from the negative aspects as the way for a

child to grow and exist in society, Travers accepts that people are both and should embrace

these opposites. This is demonstrated in this project’s novel, Life in a Pear Tree, as the

protagonist’s love interest is split into these opposites within the fairy tale story.

Tiffin notes that the separation of fairy tale from reality is in the drawing of these

more simplistic lines, of rendering people and events in extremes: the good, the evil, with

results that “…while many fairy tales do end in marriage or reconciliation, others offer

retribution…or simply the definitive closing of an episode… The point is that closure is

offered…” (Tiffin, 14). Bettelheim agrees: “The fairy tale simplifies all situations. Its figures

are clearly drawn: and details, unless very important, are eliminated” (Bettelheim, 8).

However, through further examination, it appears that the fairy tale emphasises the

complicated duality of people, its simplicity is used as a template to highlight human

complexities. Identifying these extremes of human nature shows the necessity for both. This

chapter asserts that a fairy tale can indeed be something simple and straightforward, the mere

telling of a story, one action after another in a simple or detailed manner, but its purpose is to

insist that questions be asked of it, analysis made, for those ready to attempt a more critical

interrogation. It would rob the fairy tale of its significance if no further enquiry were made

into each tale past the face-value story. Travers advocates both types of fairy tale readings in

her critique of Bettelheim:

…so the fairy tale needs to be accepted in all its original nakedness, its folkly simplicity. The stick in Jack and his Bargains may, indeed, be a phallic symbol, but it is also a stick. As well as being “orally greedy,” in the psychoanalytical sense, Hansel and Gretel when they nibbled at the gingerbread house, were a pair of hungry children. The wolf in Red Riding Hood may be a human seducer of virgins, but he is also a wolf. (Travers 1976: 113)

The value of these stories is in their simplicity and in the delight provided by a fantastic story,

but also in their deeper meanings, and should not be robbed of either mode of understanding

by overcomplicating or oversimplifying: in the same way, so should human nature be

understood.

Asking the right questions

Both Bettelheim and Tiffin might be better understood by clarifying that perhaps they

meant that there is no point in asking too many unimportant questions – ‘unimportant’ with

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the idea of Fassler’s believability of the story in mind. There is no point is asking obtuse

questions of a tale, such as how is it physically possible for an animal to speak or why did

Beauty have to sleep for one hundred years? The well-written fairy tale captivates the reader

fully and does not prompt these types of questions. The answers to these types of questions

would be unhelpful, and the answers would not fulfil any practical purpose, if any answers

were to be had. The questions to be asked of the fairy tale are potentially meant to come from

the place within us that does not use words. Whether it is called Freud’s unconscious, or

Travers’ similar idea of the Unknowing, the idea of simply feeling a story reflects Travers’

advice to read or listen to a fairy tale and ‘let it drop into you like a stone.’ Martha Heyneman

in her essay ‘About the Sleeping Beauty: The Veil Grows Transparent – Or Does It?’ (2001),

talks about the ‘reductionist attitude’ of the modern age where there is a need for things to be

defined and distilled to the simplest form as finite answers to questions put society at ease.

Scholars pull apart and try to analyse everything for meaning with logical thought as the only

tool. She references David Abram’s work on primitive cultures and nature:

Abram traces out how the introduction of completely phonetic (as opposed to pictographic) written language has been one factor in the falling asleep of this aspect of ourselves. Slowly we ceased to hear the voices of the clouds and trees and began to hear only the voices in the black-and-white marks on the page. When we ceased to perceive meaning in our immediate sensory experience, we ceased to value it. (Heyneman, 80)

She emphasises that somehow, the body which senses and the mind underneath conscious

thought, stopped being trusted to provide valid information. The ‘primitive’ mind, animism,

and their connection to fairy tale will be discussed further in the latter half of this chapter.

Travers on Fairy Tales

Travers moved past modernity’s need for absolute answers. She never attempted to

define what a fairy tale was, because to her it was an ‘unimportant’ question. She was a

contemporary of many notables included in this study, but declined to join their on-going

discussion of definition. She included fairy tale with folklore, and myth and legend as part of

the human record, not as a separate type of writing that needed classification. For Travers,

there was no beginning or need to define, because these stories are as old as mankind, even

stories thought of as newly invented with a traceable author. More succinctly, she felt that all

stories came from some place other, a place where they live and are pulled onto paper by

those blessed enough to be the chosen vessel. She talks of the ‘Unknowing,’ which is her

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term for Jung’s collective unconscious. “For instance, it is from the Unknowing that all the

myths, and, one may say, all religions issue forth and reveal themselves. Not invented but, as

it were, summoned” (Travers, 171). Her least favourite question to be asked in interviews

was where the idea of Mary Poppins came from and in one interview she finally answered

with exasperation, “Why not from nowhere?” (Travers, 203). Claude Levi-Strauss in Myth

and Meaning (1979) echoed this with his own statement, “I don’t have the feeling that I write

my books. I have the feeling that my books get written through me and that once they have

got across me I feel empty and nothing is left" (Levi-Strauss, ii).

Travers supports this chapter’s assertion that fairy tale is a broad and inclusive type of

story, a method of writing to be used in multiple genres, because it is story that connects us,

no matter what the genre. Fairy tale’s importance lies in its global prevalence which is due to

its appeal across cultures, age ranges, and many other dividing lines not easily crossed by

other types of writing.

On fairy-tale’s broad hearth there is room for all her children – myth, folk tale, legend, saga – to say nothing of her mighty old pythoness of a mother, religion…The fairy–tales are like water-flowers; they lie so lightly on the surface, but their roots go down deep into a dark and ancient past. (Travers 2010: 200, 202)

She explains in the ‘Afterward’ to her retelling of Sleeping Beauty, that for children time is

endless and infinite and “the only way to explain a thing is to say that it cannot be explained”

(Travers 1977: 58). Bettelheim, Tiffin, and the other major voices discussing fairy tale, agree

that these stories do not explain but, instead, ask open-ended questions through the narrative

that allow the reader or listener to answer for themselves. The point of these stories is that

they invite questioning about the potential deeper meanings for the individual, not directly

stated by the basic plot.

Fairy Tales Tell us our Own Stories

Travers speaks of relating these tales to our own experiences and how on first hearing

these tales it is recognition not surprise that makes them so dear, recognition because some

part of a person has always known them. As fairy tale exists in similar forms throughout

every culture, if the main themes are something recognisable to each human being, then

potentially they are the key to a fulfilling life per Travers: a life of connection to others.

Travers took this further believing that connective thinking, thinking that links the events of

one’s life to the larger themes in story and myth, “is the essence of fairy tale” (Travers 1977:

59). Her collection of various versions of Sleeping Beauty in About the Sleeping Beauty

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(1977), including her own original construction, was put together entirely to press the point

that, while these tales have the same theme but different written origins, all had the very same

beginning.

The theme of the sleeper is as old as the memory of man. Where it first arose we do not know. One can never find where myth and fairy tale begin any more than one can find wild wheat growing. They are not invented, that is certain. They germinate from seeds sown by an unknown hand. ‘The Authors,’ as the poet William Blake has said, ‘are in Eternity,’ and we must be content to leave them there…every one of these historically authenticated persons was a collector, not a creator. They retold, in their own words, stories that were told to them. But the theme itself, the theme of the sleeper, has no relation to historical fact; it comes from afar, from the world’s storehouse of fairy tale which is somewhere beyond the calendar. (Travers 1977: 61)

These stories lie in the unconscious of man and are, therefore, stories that do not simply apply

to, but also connect all people. The fairy tales confirm that humanity is linked by fundamental

similarities, a point that is forgotten more often than not, as the emphasis on individual

thinking and freedoms are at the forefront of modern values.

Autobiography and Fairy Tale

Where the intersection of autobiography and fairy tale takes place is in the reason for

the writing. The motivation for writing memoir coincides with the purpose of the fairy tale.

Most fairy tale involves a journey or a quest, some trial or task to complete. It is the idea of

journey and connection that brings memoir into the mix with fairy tale as the basis for a novel

linking these two methods of writing. This project’s fictional element, Life in a Pear Tree, a

fairy tale within a fictional autobiography (as defined in chapter 2 of this thesis), was written

to demonstrate the similarity between these two types of writing. This book takes a segment

of the author’s life which they do not fully understand and gives it meaning by weaving a

fairy tale through it. The fairy tale is intended to help answer significant questions about what

a certain experience means to the writer upon reflection.

Hampl explains the similarity between autobiography and the quest-driven fairy tales:

…ancient metaphor says life is a journey. Memoir is travel writing, then, notes taken along the way, telling how things looked and what thoughts occurred. Show and tell. But I cannot think of the memoirist as a tourist. The memoir is no guide book. This traveller lives the journey idiosyncratically, taking on mountains, enduring deserts, marvelling at the lush green places. Moving through it all faithfully, not so much a survivor with a harrowing tale to tell as that older sort of traveller, the pilgrim, seeking, wondering. (Hampl 1999: 37)

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Le Guin remarks on this idea of journey, “A fantasy (story) is a journey. It is a journey into

the subconscious mind, just as psychoanalysis is. Like psychoanalysis, it can be dangerous

and it will change you” (Le Guin, 10). Both autobiography and fairy tale are, on the surface,

just stories to be taken at face value. On a more profound level, connections between the

narrative and one’s self might be made. Sometimes readers feel a profound connection to the

material, making it all the more meaningful, but the reason for that connection is not always

easily identified and put into words. All the reader knows is that something inside of them

sees familiarity in the work, both in fiction and non-fiction writing.

Jack Zipes in ‘Breaking the Magic Spell’ (2002) writes of the use of fairy tale to

make conclusions about our own lives,

Our lives are framed by folk and fairy tales, but in the framework we never fill in the meaning of the tales for ourselves. It remains elusive just as our own history remains elusive. From birth to death we hear and imbibe the lore of folk and fairy tales and sense that they can help us reach our destiny. (Zipes, xi)

Fairy tale represents a means for discovering one’s self and what our individual lives may

mean in relation to the world around us. The struggle for a career, fame, success, family,

longevity; the study of writing, art, religion, science, or philosophy are all, at some basic

level, a search for meaning. “If we hope to live not just from moment to moment, but in true

consciousness of our existence, then our greatest need and most difficult achievement is to

find meaning in our lives” (Bettelheim, 3).

A need for meaning is why these tales, formed at the beginnings of human history, are

ubiquitous and remain in modern cultures because of how they address the ever–present need

for meaning and therefore, connection. This ties directly to what Annette Kobak in her essay

‘Whose War?’ (2008) has said about autobiography,

Perhaps, as the aborigines and ancient Greeks thought, our stories really are…what we’re here for; perhaps neuroscience or quantum physics will eventually fill us in on that. Meanwhile, it does seem that linking ourselves to what’s around us, and to what went before…is necessary and satisfying, and possibly hardwired into us. (Kobak, 42)

Our own stories are subject to the outside influences which have shaped those histories – the

fairy tales read to us as children, the social and cultural conditioning we experienced from

babyhood to adulthood, and every experience that turned into a memory. We begin with the

fairy tale as the introduction into self-reflection. “For inevitably, if the fairy-tale characters

are our prototypes – which is what they are designed to be – we come to the point where we

are forced to relate the stories and their meanings to ourselves” (Travers 1977: 73). The

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purpose of the creative writing piece included in this project, a mix of memoir and fairy tale,

is to use fairy tale, an ancient method, and memoir, a modern method, to convey meaning to

the author and reader, and to gain wisdom about the self.

Autobiography and fairy tale share another characteristic - that they both tell tales of

another time – one lost to us. Hampl says about the memoirist,

True memoir is written, like all literature, in an attempt to find not only a self but a world. The self-absorption that seems to be the impetus and embarrassment of autobiography turns into (or perhaps always was) a hunger for the world. Actually, it begins as a hunger for a world, one gone or lost, effaced by time or a more sudden brutality. (Hampl 1999: 35)

In autobiography and fairy tale we have as much access to the subject matter in one as the

other, for both are now firmly in ‘once upon a time.’ We cannot go back to our pasts any

easier or more concretely than we can transport ourselves to Narnia, both are equally

inaccessible, able to be visited only in our minds. As Tolkien says, fairy tales “open a door on

Other Time, and if we pass through, though only for a moment, we stand outside our own

time, outside Time itself, maybe’” (Tiffin, 17). Autobiography relies on memory, but this

chapter will discuss the validity of memory and how it is a construct made up of symbols and

distorted self-image. The memory of travels into other worlds by immersing yourself in a

book can be just as significant as the memory of a childhood re-invented and only viewable

through flawed mirrors, as both are experienced and then given meaning by the person.

Fairy tales can be future or past, but always just outside of history. The start of

Travers’ Sleeping Beauty retelling starts with, “Once upon a time, a time that never was and

is always…” (Travers 1977: 9). That these stories seem to connect the ages by being as

significant now as they were millennia ago would deepen this assertion. These tales are

attached to the human experience regardless of the year written or read. The origin of the

earliest fairy tales is not known and cannot be known, but they set firm groundwork for

writers to learn from them and then expand the form. Le Guin comments, “you can’t imitate

what somebody does until you’ve learned how he does it” (Le Guin, 149). It is possible that

because these types of tales were the foundation of most childhoods they have become part of

our own personal history, therefore, a tool to be used in the creation of new stories, such as

memoir, that help us to understand and to connect to others and the world.

Memoir and fairy tale appear vastly different on the surface but come together at the

root of storytelling. Myth is essential to the human experience, and fairy tale is part of the

very beginnings of myth. The term has morphed, like the tales it describes, into more than

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itself. In two short words the gateway to other worlds and other time is contained, and while

magic and reality appear separate to one another at first glance, these also connect at the

source through Primary World words such as coincidence, fate, and destiny. “How far is it to

fairyland? Nearer by far than Babylon. It intersects our mortal world at every point and at

every second” (Travers 1977: 15). Travers’ idea of the Unknowing as a collective pool of

knowledge that is entrusted to us is very similar to Hampl’s writing on memoir,

Because everyone ‘has’ a memoir, we all have a stake in how such stories are told. For we do not, after all, simply have experience; we are entrusted with it. We must do something – make something – with it. A story, we sense, is the only possible habitation for the burden of our witnessing. (Hampl 1999: 18)

Life in a Pear Tree covers a specific experience that the author was entrusted with and

combines it with the fantastic to tell the truth, if the truth can be told, and to figure out the

meaning of certain events for those who lived it. Travers has written about Galileo’s well-

known words, ‘Nevertheless, it moves.’ This phrase was supposedly spoken during his trial

where he recanted his assertion that the earth does not move around the sun. He did not

actually speak these words, as anyone close enough to hear and record them would certainly

have executed him. The statement is a fiction to assert the truth of his convictions, an

invention to make this factual story more meaningful. That those words cannot be confirmed

as having been spoken does not make their truth any less meaningful. Travers states, “It is a

truth but it is not a fact” (Travers 2010: 14-15). This project attempts to connect facts, story,

truth, and the fantastic, showing how these things are not independent of one another, but

instead, how they weave together to tell a personal history: the truth behind the facts.

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Chapter 2: Memoir - A Fictional Construct

Introduction

The issue of defining which books belong in one genre or another is not exclusive to

fairy tale or fantasy. For the purposes of this chapter, Philippe Lejeune’s ‘The

Autobiographical Pact’ (1989) will be relied upon to assist in defining the creative portion of

this project. Lejeune proposed the autobiographical pact, which demands that for a work to be

considered autobiography, it is an absolute rule that the author’s name should match the

protagonist’s, and a statement that this is the author’s story should be made in title or text

(Lejeune, 14). If this is unclear, then the work should fall under the heading of

autobiographical novel. He admits that this is simply a way to categorise based on the mind-

set the reader should have when they pick up a book. A work of autobiographical fiction and

one of autobiography, under his guidelines, might both have similar degrees of fact in them,

but it is the way the reader approaches the stories that will be different. “It is at this…level

that autobiography is defined: it is a mode of reading as much as it is a type of writing; it is a

historically variable contractual effect” (Lejeune, 30).

This contract states that the writer and the reader both participate in determining the

various degrees of fact and truth in any work claiming to record a specific reality outside of

the text. The notion that there is a relationship between author and reader is critical in making

both acts, reading and writing, a participatory engagement. The written word is not just ink

and paper, a dead thing with no power of its own, but rather a sleeping being waiting to be

awoken and known by the reader. The reader is not a silent pupil or empty vessel waiting to

be lectured to or filled by a clear and exact message from the author, but an active participant

in this engagement. This is not a new idea but one addressed in reader-response theory that

“appear now, semi-explicitly, whether or not they are actually cited, as assumptions…We no

longer even expect different readers to arrive at identical readings” (Harkin, 412). It is

commonly accepted that most writing could reflect the author’s own life in some regard.

Therefore, the degree of factuality in a work is dependent upon the intent of the author if the

work is to be considered truly autobiographical writing.

Determining Factuality

Works categorised as autobiographical or memoir are expected to be based on all or

some of the events of the author’s life. The difficulty with autobiography is that it is almost

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entirely reliant on the memory of the writer. Memory is critical to construction of self, and

therefore to the creation of autobiography. This reliance on what can be an unreliable or

incomplete source is why these categories of writing are sometimes scorned or disregarded.

On the other hand, it is possible that this is a critical type of writing, as autobiography is

supposedly firmly set in reality, an account of the person experiencing the events, and might

compliment historical record with greater accuracy. That these types of works are noted to be

historical and therefore the truth about something or someone, opens them up to criticisms

not faced by other forms of writing.

In Chapter 1 this study stated that fairy tale is not a genre, but a style of writing that

can be included or used by other genres as something that will be known by the reader when

they see it. There are those who have proposed a similar means of recognition for

autobiography. Paul de Man writes in ‘Autobiography as De-facement’ (1979):

Empirically as well as theoretically, autobiography lends itself poorly to generic definition; each specific instance seems to be an exception to the norm; the works themselves always seem to shade off into neighbouring or even incompatible genres…Autobiography, then, is not a genre or a mode, but a figure of reading or of understanding that occurs, to some degree, in all texts. (de Man, 920)

De Man suggests that because autobiographical works will vary as much as the unique

experiences of the authors of which it is a record, they are resistant to categorisation because

of their diversity. He removes the question of genre entirely and suggests leaving it to the

reader to determine how something is read and digested. He goes on to muddy this issue

further by proposing that in fiction and autobiography there is no way to know, once the

author reflects himself onto the page, what is true and what is made-up. The real question to

contemplate is who will be the authority to verify the factuality of a work? A piece of writing

can follow Lejeune’s rules, where the author is named as both writer and protagonist, but

who is qualified to determine if the author is reliable? Even secondary parties mentioned in

the writing are only bit players, and as they were not present for each event covered, may not

be able to verify anything absolutely. Memory is individually constructed and subject to

outside influence. For example, people experiencing the same event often observe and report

what they think occurred very differently, and yet the facts of the event are the same.

Jonathan Loesberg’s article ‘Moving Beyond the Deconstructive Impasse in the

Criticism of Autobiography’ (2008), comments on the question of whether autobiography

should be under the category of fiction if memory and therefore the idea of self is a construct

from a faulty source. “Deconstruction seemed to answer the question by showing first that

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the self was a fiction, and, consequently, the text having no self to refer to must also be a

fiction” (Loesberg, 119). There seems no clear path to determining the factuality of

autobiographical work if even the authors themselves are uncertain of the facts. It is up to the

author to tell the truth as they know it to be, then, and this will be addressed in more detail

subsequently.

Recording Truth

Memory is constructed and enhanced by emotion, coloured by individual histories and

biases, therefore, it is virtually impossible to call much that is constructed by memory ‘fact’ if

facts require multiple sources for confirmation. With the production of recording equipment

such as cameras and video recorders, it is easier in some instances, to verify exact words

used, location, weather at the time, and many other details the mind can forget, forcing their

construction by imagination. Before these media, personal record might be verified through

kept personal journals or writings, the very things often used by historical writers to construct

history. These should be relied upon for verifiable facts with caution as they only tell a sliver

of truth about the writer.

The memories the mind stores and recalls most easily are based on the strongest

experienced emotional events and these significant extremes give shape to constructed

personal history. Because each moment of a life is not usually filled with extreme emotions,

much of what is written about when reflecting on the past is based on the highest or lowest

points experienced. What is left out of a memoir can be just as important as what is included,

and as every detail of a moment, let alone a life, cannot possibly be recorded perfectly, it is

important to note that any autobiographical work is only ever a fraction of the whole story

and subject to the specifics deemed most important by the person relaying the events.

An example to illustrate the idea of two sides to a story and how fact and truth can be

separate is found in Carlos Eire’s autobiography Waiting for Snow in Havana (2003). Eire is

an academic and historian who wrote about his childhood in Cuba purely from memory as an

emotional response to the outrage he felt against what he calls ‘The Big Lie.’ In his essay,

‘Where Falsehoods Dissolve: Memory as History’ (2008), he writes about the danger of

forgetting as a means of allowing evil to perpetuate. For Eire, the Holocaust and other crimes

against humanity can be repeated when the truth is subverted by the facts submitted to the

public by those in power.

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The Cuban version of the Big Lie has its own peculiar insidious features. Without exception, the Lie highlights the “fact” that Cubans enjoy free universal health care and education. The Lie loves statistics too, which it twists with abandon. So the more one tries to expose the Lie by dwelling on the “facts” and statistics it generates, the deeper one sinks into some sort of quicksand. One can try to explain the price Cubans pay for the ostensibly “free” services…but it will make no difference. The Lie depends on a value system, on certain myths, and on ideological constructs…Those who believe the Lie will instantly doubt anything that calls their myths into question, for “facts” and statistics are always open to interpretation, especially when ideologies are exposed. (Eire, 172)

The two sides of the story became evident when Eire spoke with highly educated

contemporaries who supported Fidel Castro and believed him to have accomplished much for

the people. Eire found this viewpoint ludicrous and showed the other side of the distributed

facts by recounting his experience under the regime. For Eire, it was the truth despite what

some official statistics might have shown.

Amanda Thomas (2012) discusses the truthfulness of autobiography and in the

following passage she is examining Freud’s ideas on dreams and reality in shaping identity

on the conscious and subconscious level.

…it would appear irrelevant whether a specific memory portrayed by an author is fact or fantasy, as the latter is merely a disguised or subconscious (non-verifiable) truth, repressed from both childhood and the present alike. Likewise, a dream is very often a mixture of an individual’s memory and the fantasies that those memories provoke, making it possible to believe that dreams are equally as important to an individual’s identity as the acts they carry out while awake. (Thomas, 16)

Per Thomas, there is not a distinguishable line between waking and dreams, unconscious and

conscious, or reality and fantasy. Gloria E. Anzaldúa, who was a key figure in the

Chicano/Chicana cultural movement, points out a flaw in thinking that the conscious, rational

mind is the only participant in moulding identity in her book Borderlands/la frontera (1999).

We are taught that the body is an ignorant animal; intelligence dwells only in the head. But the body is smart. It does not discern between external stimuli and stimuli from the imagination. It reacts equally viscerally to events from the imagination as it does to ‘real’ events. (Anzaldúa, 59-60)

Waking from a dream with a racing heart or a face wet with tears, emotions in the dream still

vivid and lasting through some of the day are felt by the body in sleep and then by the waking

mind. Therefore, everything that happens in the mind, whether real or constructed, can be

crucial to an individual’s development of self.

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Conscious and subconscious knowledge was more readily observed and trusted by

many native peoples before the influx of Europeans. Lucian Levy-Bruhl in How natives think

(1985) wrote how early man could not differentiate between an image and the real thing in

the same logical way as modern man.

Must we say, with De Groot, that it is impossible for them to distinguish a mere resemblance from identity, and admit that primitives suffer from the same illusion as the child who believes her doll to be alive? First of all, however, it is difficult to decide whether the child herself is quite sure of it. Perhaps her belief is part of the game and at the same time sincere, like the emotions of grown-up people at the theatre, shedding real tears about the misfortunes which they nevertheless know to be but feigned. (Levy-Bruhl, 48)

Humans do not need for something to be factual for it to affect them on a visceral level. It

does not take fact to produce emotion, which in turn produces memory, which shapes the self.

This same truth can be applied when there is a trauma to a person’s ability to remember, as in

the case of amnesia, repressed memory, or in occurrences of false memories. Notable events

might have occurred in a life or just as equally, might not have, but if the individual cannot

remember or remembers something false these memories can alter the personality or self

significantly.

Carl Jung’s autobiography Memories, Dreams, Reflections (1962) is a helpful

example in this regard as he states in the prologue that he will be writing his true

autobiography, that is, the one concerned with “the self-realisation of the unconscious” (Jung,

17). He supports the assertion that humans are not objective, especially when it comes to self-

examination. “Thus it is that I have now undertaken, in my eighty-third year, to tell my

personal myth. I can only make direct statements, only ‘tell stories.’ Whether the stories are

‘true’ is not the problem. The only question is whether what I tell is my fable, my truth”

(Jung, 17). Jung acknowledged that what he writes must be true for him, whether or not it is

factual according to someone else. He firmly believed that inner happenings exceeded the

importance of any outside events in a life, as the inner is eternal while the external, physical

reality is transitory. Autobiography intersects with fairy tale as both are/were created or exist

to help move people forward on the path to self-knowledge.

Travers tied these two together by hypothesising why there is a departure from fairy

tales as an adult, “We are busy, instead, with our personal myth in which the real is turned to

dream and the dream becomes the real. Sifting all this is a long process. It may perhaps take

half a lifetime and the few who come ‘round to the tales again are those who are in luck”

(Travers 1975: 59). Travers and Jung note that the internal journey is underestimated, but all

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acts of creation such as music, art, or writing concern themselves with what lies beneath the

surface of the individual.

Who determines truth value?

Linda Anderson in Autobiography (2001) addresses the question of truth and

believability in biographical writings, which is necessary as some authors admit to changing

facts to enhance the narrative.

Within critical discussions of autobiography, ‘intention’ has had a necessary and often unquestioned role in providing the crucial link between author, narrator and protagonist. Intention, however, is further defined as a particular kind of ‘honest’ intention which guarantees the 'truth' of writing. Trust the author, this rather circular argument goes, if s/he seems to be trustworthy. (Anderson, 2-3)

The outrage at ‘false’ memoirs, or the need to verify and categorise autobiographical works is

all part of humanity’s need for order, both internally and externally. Flohr’s essay ‘The

Relationship between Fiction and Auto-biography’ (1998), addresses the question raised by

de Man and Loesberg previously in this chapter on the difficult issue of whether any

autobiography can be considered nonfiction.

Our ideas of ‘truth value’, falsification and verification are based on our concepts of objective knowledge. Only objective knowledge can conform to standards of truth and only objects can become parts of objective knowledge. The self, however, is neither a mere object nor entirely objective. It is also a subject and consequently subjective. According to our “inherited ideals of objective knowledge” subjectivity contradicts objectivity and thereby even reality…This means that the autobiographical text in spite of and even by creating fiction presents truth, the truth of the self that reveals itself in the presentation of the fiction of his or her life. (Loesberg, 4-5)

Flohr presents the truth to be what the audience gleans about the author from the story no

matter how factual it is. However, with the invention of the internet came the ability for

outside parties to fact check the claims of an author more fully, causing an even larger

obscuring of the issue.

For example, James Frey is an American writer best known for his memoir A Million

Little Pieces (2003). The book was a best-seller and gained even greater recognition with the

backing of talk show host, Oprah Winfrey. After being accused of embellishing parts of the

narrative, mainly the circumstances around his arrest, by a fact-checking website ‘The

Smoking Gun’, he faced criticism and scrutiny over the authenticity of his writing. This

returns us to the question of fact versus truth. Frey defended his book, having initially

marketed it as fiction to publishers.

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People asked me, 'How much of it's true, how much of it's not true?' he says. Initially I said, 'I want it to be published as a novel so I don't have to get into all that. I don't wanna have to go through picking it apart, talking about what was changed and why.' Things were changed for all sorts of reasons: effect, for respect, other people's anonymity, making the story function properly. (Barton 2006)

These types of alterations are typical in biographical work as it is understood that there must

be omissions to make a story readable. Writing every tiny detail of a life would not

necessarily create an interesting narrative. Why does an autobiographer, biographer, or even

an historical writer choose to include certain details in the writing but not others? Certainly,

there is information about meals eaten, sleep schedules, dates of haircuts or doctor’s

appointments, or any number of other minutiae for a given subject, but unless the facts move

the intended narrative along they are omitted. Not every detail is significant, but any one of

these mundane examples could be the catalyst for something consequential within the

narrative. Those trying to discern truth value should consider that every piece of writing is a

construct, wholly or partially imagined unless every second is recorded, fastidiously, fact by

fact. What the authors of any type of writing involving the Primary World are tasked with

doing, is to observe a mass of past facts viewable only from the present and to determine

which contributed to the main thread of a life or event. The story must be constructed by the

writer using the facts to tell his or her own truth, which can be a fiction of its own.

A lie vs. fiction

Andrew Aciman, an Egyptian-born American professor, discusses in his 2008 essay

‘Rue Delta,’ a section of his own memoir, Out of Egypt (1995), where he tells of his last night

walking to the beach before emigrating from Alexandria, Egypt. He wrote two versions of the

same segment in different editions: one that included his brother and one that did not, one

that declared his love for the city, the other, his hatred. These two versions, the love or hate,

brother present or absent, sum up the internal conflict an autobiographer can have when

trying to tell his own truth.

…either I nursed ambivalent feelings for the city or that I could not decide who exactly the speaker was at that very instant: my brother or I… (or if it was) an undisclosed desire on my part to be like him…to stop being the person I was, and, if I could convince others that I had, to come to believe it myself. (Acimen 2008: 199)

Aciman has provided a critical example for why trying to determine the truth value of

memoir is fraught with issues, as he could not clearly see the facts or the truth about himself.

He asks,

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Was I lying then? A novel…wants to pass for something it is not; it claims to be a history and, as such, narrates events as though they did in fact happen. A memoir on the other hand, narrates them to read like fiction, which is to say, as though they may never have happened at all. (Acimen 2008: 196)

His justification for his ‘fiction’ is that, for him, both versions of the event were at once true

but not factual. His longing to be like his brother, his thoughts and emotions on leaving

Alexandria were coloured by the reflection of himself on another personality, and after

several years became his truth. Later in the essay he admits that neither version of that beach

walk actually happened, the entire segment as told was entirely fictitious, the events were

imagined, and yet his distinguished academic and writing careers remain untarnished.

Frey, accused of similar creations in his books, has stated that he turned his life into a

readable work and when it finally sold it was revised further during the editing process,

however it remains the truth of his life as he knew it to be. Editor-in-Chief Nan Talese notes

that out of the multitude of reading material she was sent, although some might be true, many

of them do not feel true. In the case of Frey, she admits that she absolutely believed it to be

real because it felt believable (Barton 2006). Armando Maggi, the author of Preserving the

Spell (2015), talks about the uproar involving Frey in a 2012 interview. When speaking about

why the reaction to any fabrication was so intense he explains, “I think it’s because the

memoir touched upon the deep-seated desire for change that is inside of us. The desire for

improving ourselves, for becoming better people, for finding a better life. The happy ending

for all of us.”

Despite the uproar, Frey has noted that out of the thousands of letters he has received,

only approximately fifty were negative or critical, most were thanking him for the impact his

writing had made on them or someone they knew (Barton 2006). The significance of this is

that readers could connect with the authentic emotions conveyed by Frey’s writing. That the

facts were distorted or changed did not lessen their impact as Frey insists he wrote the truth

as he knew it to be. Neither Acimen nor Frey recorded the facts of their stories, but the

implication that remains is that both told their emotional truth as authentically as possible at

the time of the writing.

Reality vs. Truth

Considering that there are two versions of Aciman’s memoir, Paul Jordan-Smith’s

essay ‘What is the Story?’ (1999) speaks to the question: is there is ever a single, correct

telling of a story, even an autobiographical one? Perhaps the narrative detail might constantly

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be in a process of transformation to tell the truth. In other words, what is true for the author

can change as they learn more about themselves.

Ultimately, all participants, tellers and listeners alike, are responsible for evaluating a story, for telling it over and over in new ways and in new situations, for exploring its many layers of meaning. It is our need for developing our understanding, our yearning for meaning and a true glimpse of the world that decides for us whether the story being told is a real one, one that speaks to the mind and heart. (Jordan-Smith, 118-119)

In other words, a true story is one that sounds true to the reader, measured by an unspoken,

indeterminate measuring stick of authenticity. Jordan-Smith notes during a conversation with

Travers, that she insisted similarly that the fairy tale is in a continuous process of

transformation which accounts for the differing versions of tales that show up in different

places.

When a text is printed in a book, it is not even a story, it is the corpse of a story. What lives is the telling and the listening…What lives is the story itself. It is not what the words sound like or even what the sentences declare that is important, but what the story means to those who tell and hear it…Or as she asked me once…” How can we ever say, ‘This is the real story?’ The ‘real’ story is the one that tells the truth. And since the truth is not in us, we have to tell its story over and over in different ways, always looking for the best way, the way that corresponds to our understanding, though we may never find it.” (Joran-Smith, 116)

Aciman would illustrate this point with his different versions of that night in Alexandria.

Hampl would agree with his method, “Here memory impulsively reaches out and embraces

imagination. That is the resort to invention. It isn’t a lie, but an act of necessity, as the innate

urge to locate truth always is” (Hampl 1999: 31). Although society relies on the written word,

itself a symbol, the words live when engaged with by a reader and it is this living connection

that is the purpose of storytelling, whether it be in fairy tale or memoir form.

Myths, legends, and fairy tale existed in oral form and eventually were relayed in

written form to communicate truths meaningful to every person; they were our way to not

simply communicate cultural significance and historical events, but to connect with each

other on a basic human level. Fenton Johnson discusses the point of telling a story in his

essay ‘The Lion and the Lamb, or the Facts and the Truth: Memoir as Bridge’ (2008):

Even then I understood that the telling of the story was the point, that the facts of the story mattered less than sharing the communion of the word, the telling and the listening as entry point to a world outside of linear time…A successful memoir is not a product of the self-obsession of a selfish, me-first generation; it is evidence of literate people’s recognition that the written word has replaced the story told by the

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winter fire as our means of establishing and preserving cultural memory…Memoirists write in service not only to fact, though the facts are and must be our tools, but to truth. (Johnson, 13-19)

Memory, and subsequently memoir, are tied with the fairy tale idea of ‘once upon a time,’ for

all are written about a time lost to the author. Memories are the only clues as to what has

taken place in the past. Any retelling of a life could easily begin with those four words,

generally used to locate a tale outside of a specific time or place, and remain just as truthful

as starting out the same story with exact dates.

The problem with categorising a work or determining the truthfulness or factuality of

anything is that out lived reality is a constructed world of symbols (morals, principles,

culture, etc.) and is therefore open to unlimited possible interpretations. Without realising

they are doing so, people take the agreement on these symbols for granted, as society trains

each new generation to agree with what has been decided by the previous generations. What

is unknown to most people is that these symbols exist and their lives are constructed based on

these agreements, and in some cases, the person’s resistance to these agreements. These vary,

language to language, culture to culture, creating divides that are not easily traversed.

The familiar story form of the fairy tales can transcend these disagreements, allowing

humans to find common ground that surpasses culturally specific symbols. Fairy tales are

found in every culture, in every recorded time, signifying that there is a shared human

experience. More importantly, these stories have not ceased being meaningful over time and

we tell these tales to our children to connect them to who they are as human beings.

Interpretation Determines Identity

If a symbol has multiple ways of being interpreted, and that interpretation is therefore

dependant on the person doing so, then who we are to ourselves or to someone else, is also

reliant on interpretation. Travers speaks about the idea of symbols and shows why, if we

ourselves are symbols, then our own meaning is both up for interpretation and open to

limitless understandings.

The myths never have a single meaning, once and for all and finished. They have something greater; they have meaning itself. If you hang a crystal sphere in the window it will give off light from all parts of itself. That is how the myths are; they have meaning for me, for you, and for everyone else. A true symbol has always this multisidedness. It has something to say to all who approach it. One could say, I think, that the myths never were and always are and therefore they are indestructible. (Travers 2010: 13-14)

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Communication is difficult, letters themselves a symbol that represent words that represent an

idea. This is a limiting way to convey conscious or unconscious thought and/or emotion.

Stories are a way of speaking to each other at a basic but intricate level: one of emotion.

Identity is part of the equation: a construct of our own making, when we are conscious

of it, and the reflection of ourselves by the world around us, using stories to explain ourselves

to ourselves. Jacques Lacan, post-Freud, coined the idea of the mirror stage in ‘The Mirror

Stage as Formative of the Function of the I as Revealed in Psychoanalytic Experience’

(1949). He writes that we are only a fiction created by the internal world of the self, which

includes parts of the imagination, subconscious, conscious, his own ‘unknowable

unconscious’, and what the outside world observes someone to be. The importance of self-

knowledge to becoming an independently thinking and acting individual, and acknowledging

social constructs so that they can be challenged, is one of the many purposes of

autobiographical writing and the fairy tale.

Our memories are constructed self-knowledge, and the sharing of our own personal

truths allows us to connect the dots of our own life events for ourselves and for connection

with others, to eventually challenge and reconstruct the symbols and social/cultural norms of

reality.

Memoirists…do not really want to ‘tell a story.’ They want to tell it all – the all of personal experience, of consciousness itself. That includes a story, but also the whole expanding universe of sensation and thought that flows beyond the confines of narrative and proves every life to be not only an isolated story line but a bit of the cosmos, spinning and streaming into the great, ungraspable pattern of existence. Memoirists wish to tell their mind, not their story. (Hampl 1999: 18)

Hampl understands that the mind and its infinite possibilities are a human commonality. The

importance of that commonality, while sometimes diminished in never-ending conflict over

symbol agreements, is summed up by Travers who says “...everything is inevitably connected

with everything else” (Travers 2010: 14).

Armando Maggi in Preserving the Spell (2015) asserts that memoir is the new fairy

tale, “To liken the memoir, which seeks to express reality, to the fairy tale, which celebrates

unreality, may seem far-fetched. Yet the memoir inevitably absorbs not only certain basic

themes and motifs of the fairy tale but also its magic, its fundamental unreality” (Maggi,

215). As stated previously, memoir and autobiography are fictions constructed by the author,

the facts nearly impossible to verify and the truth value dependent on too many undefinable

criteria. The author writes to share a story about themselves, hopefully one created with the

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intent to convey a truth or gain understanding about oneself or a specific event. Travers

would note this similarity prior to the examination of American memoirs as undertaken by

Maggi. She observed the same correlations between our constructed, prevailing myths and

fairy tales forty years before.

For me, the nods and becks of my mother’s friends, walking under parasols or presiding over tinkling tea-tables were preparatory exercises to my study of the myths. The scandals, the tight corners, the flights into the face of fate! When eventually I read of Zeus visiting Danae in a shower of gold, Perseus encountering the Gorgon, or the hair-breadth escapes of the Argonauts, such adventures caused me no surprise. I had heard their modern parallels over tea and caraway cake. (Travers 1975: 57)

Per Travers and Maggi, fairy tale and memoir come together at the root – both are

constructed in a similar fashion and the reason for their existence is for teaching, learning,

and understanding. Most memoir deals with similar fairy tale themes of a major event or

disruption such as a death, a parent’s remarriage, a heroic quest, a journey; most trying to

show how the event shaped the writer or how they overcome the difficulty. We connect with

fairy tales because we can reflect our own lives in them. We write and connect with memoir

for the very same reason. Both are a reflection, however, and that is why Maggi states that

they share an unreality.

Life in a Pear Tree highlights the tie between memoir and fairy tale by using the

unreality of constructed memories written some years after the original events, and the

mixing of Faerie and the Primary World to understand a period in the author’s life. The

sections involving the Primary World, or the factual events, were written to the best of the

author’s memory and blend seamlessly with the protagonist Felicity’s adventures into the

magical land of Faerie. The narrative moves her through the heroic quest she is on to save the

man she loves, while trying to answer bigger questions about fate and inevitability.

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Chapter 3: Mary Poppins as Fairy Tale

Introduction

Marina Warner writes in From the Beast to the Blonde (1995) that fairy tales “…offer

a way of putting questions, of testing the structure as well as guaranteeing its safety, of

thinking up alternatives as well as living daily reality in an examined way” (Warner, 411).

She has also suggested that they could be used as a weapon against an oppressive status quo,

when no other weapon was to be had as a means of subversion (ibid, 412). P. L. Travers’

Mary Poppins books accomplished all that Warner contends about fairy tales. They were

written specifically to put forward difficult questions, some subversive in manner, to consider

different behaviour from societal norms while still managing to instil overarching cultural

values, and to encourage an examination of one’s day-to-day existence. There are six initial

books in P.L. Travers’ series: Mary Poppins (1934), Mary Poppins Comes Back (1935),

Mary Poppins Opens the Door (1943), Mary Poppins in the Park (1952), Mary Poppins in

Cherry Tree Lane (1982), and Mary Poppins and the House Next Door (1988). The first three

are in sequential order, with Mary coming and going in various fantastic scenarios. The final

three books are meant to fall somewhere within the timeline of the first three as supplemental

pieces to the earlier visits to the Banks’ home.

There are many aspects of these books that qualify them firmly as fairy tale such as

being set outside of a known timeline as mentioned in previous chapters. Giorgia Grilli has

written one of the few texts focused specifically on analysing the Mary Poppins series. In

Myth, Symbol, and Meaning in Mary Poppins (2007) she writes,

Mary Poppins descends on a very ‘English’ England…brightened somewhat by the greenery of the inevitable London park…carrying a name no more inventive than that of ‘The Park’…yet, if the space of the story is clearly defined, the time in which it takes place appears suspended, halted…imprecise… (Grilli, 3).

This works to give the reader a definitive, comfortable, familiar setting of the proper and non-

magical Primary World, and this was done purposefully by Travers to highlight Mary’s

unique kind of magic. The other qualities that suggest the Mary Poppins books are fairy tale

will be discussed subsequently.

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A way of putting questions

At first glance it might seem that Mary is coming from Faerie into the Primary World

of the Banks family, bringing magic with her to a non-magical realm. However, Mary is not

the only magical person or being in the books, many existing before her - her arrival only

exposes the possibilities for magic that were already there. Grilli adds:

…she is an ungraspable presence (or graspable only insofar as she makes herself socially recognizable) for whom anything and everything is possible, even without her intervention. Life, which had become sluggish, crystallized…latent, in her presence awakens; her approach seems to suggest that only if our (senti)mental capacity to really be aware of the life around us is restored, can we live the…relationship between our sensations and intuitions on the one hand and the…stimulating qualities of the object world on the other. It is not so much a question of our watching Mary Poppins give life to the impossible or the fantastic, as experiencing a real awakening of our consciousness that, now released, can interact with a brand new world that reveals itself to us as if for the first time. (Grilli, 6)

This is the central idea of all the books: that everyday life is magic if only one was

enlightened enough to see. Travers confirms this idea during her time at the Disney Studios:

The Shermans talked constantly of fantasy – a word, Pamela noted, much used around the studio. But to her, fantasy was unreality. They told her earnestly they understood the meaning of Mary Poppins. It was the miracle that lay behind everyday life. No, she replied crossly, she didn’t agree. There was no miracle behind everyday life. Everyday life was the miracle. (Lawson, 254)

Mary Poppins was not written to be fantasy as it is often classified in book stores because for

Travers it was just a representation of the truth of real life, much as fairy tale shares real life

truths told in the guise of the fantastic.

To anyone capable of suspending for a moment the cavortings of the rational mind, of accepting myth for what it is – not lie but the very veritable truth…Perhaps we are being told here that wisdom is too strong a draught for man to take, as it were, neat; that it needs to be mediated to him… (Travers 2010: 81)

The numerous truths scattered throughout show that Travers mediated valuable lessons in a

more palatable manner in a similar form as the traditional fairy tale.

Introduction to subversion

Subversion has many meanings and in the case of Mary Poppins, to understand what

is meant when calling the books or the character subversive, Grilli speaks of subversion as

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“instances of divergence from what was considered socially and culturally acceptable”

(Grilli, 111). There are many ways in which these books challenge or contradict accepted

cultural values as Travers intended to make the reader question systems of behaviour which

are taken for granted as being normal or typical. These books are similar to the fairy tale

retellings of Angela Carter’s The Bloody Chamber (1979) who also shifted what is expected

in a familiar fairy tale to provoke the reader into questioning accepted norms. Tiffin

comments, “In many tales Carter effectively appropriates the animal figures of fairy tale,

displacing them from their accepted narrative roles to recreate them as alternative icons…”

(Tiffin, 63). In this manner, Carter prompts the reader to re-examine what is taken for granted

and Travers does the same.

She uses Mary Poppins, in the role of British nanny, constructing a typical British

household consisting of a working father, socialite mother, and children, to challenge ‘what-

goes-without-saying’ in the Primary World (Barthes, 11). “Mary Poppins leads us to an

Elsewhere and in so doing we are led to question the stability of situations, values, and

abstract concepts, and to challenge the rational, obvious perspective…the hierarchy of values

underpinning it must be reconsidered” (Grilli, 9). The purpose of this questioning is to get the

reader to think beyond the surface story, much as we are taught to do in analysing any text,

and to observe society in a way that might make them question the social order.

The first major subversion of a societal norm can be found in the first book when the

children are brought to Mary’s birthday party in the zoo at night. Travers (2010a: 108-110)

portrays a very normal event, a zoo visit, in such a way to make the reader question the

normalcy of locking animals in cages to be viewed by humans. In a very pointed way,

Travers asks the reader to switch places with the animals: an angry seal demands that Jane

and Michael to perform a trick by diving for an orange peel, animals have the chance to ride

on a human, and the people who have stayed past closing hours are locked into cages and fed

for the amusement of the animal onlookers. This turns what is taken for granted upside down.

As another example of this, the children find themselves in the ocean for one of

Mary’s days off. In the initial instance, it shows the fish, fishing for people on the surface

from below with water-proof bags of strawberry tarts. Similar to the angry seal in the

previous example, a salmon asks the caught people, “’Well, how do you like it?’ jeered the

Salmon…’I must say you look extremely funny! Exactly like a fish out of water!’” (Travers

2010a: 449). Jane is disturbed that the people could have been herself or Michael, relieved to

be informed they will be thrown back in sports-fishing fashion. Subsequently, she is also

pricked with guilt as she meets a nervous Haddock who is afraid of being the next of his

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family to disappear on the mysterious surface, reflecting for the first time on her regular

haddock breakfasts. It is not just for the amusement or disturbance of the reader that these

inversions of normalcy are written, but to demonstrate that typical occurrences in everyday

life should be examined.

Subversion and Connection

Being part of a whole is presented by Travers as something we lose as we are

socialised from childhood to adulthood. In the latter halves of the segments noted above, Jane

and Michael watch natural enemies, such as the lion and his prey, dance together at the zoo,

the King Cobra, also known as the Hamadryad, answers Jane’s question about how the lack

of enmity can exist. He answers that on this occasion ‘the Birthday’ (Mary Poppins’) and on

this occasion alone that it is possible. “We are all made of the same stuff, remember, we of

the Jungle, you of the City. The same substance composes us – the tree overhead, the stone

beneath us, the bird, the beast, the star – we are all one, all moving to the same end” (Travers

2010a: 117). This is repeated during the ocean adventure.

Jane nodded. “I thought the Sea would be so different, but really, it’s very like the land!”“And why not?” said the Terrapin, blinking. “The land came out of the sea, remember. Each thing on the earth has a brother here – the lion, the dog, the hare, the elephant. The precious gems have their kind in the sea, so have the starry constellations. The rose remembers the salty waters and the moon the ebb and flow of the tide. You too must remember it, Jane and Michael!” (ibid.: 455-456)

Travers (2010: 212) notes in her essay ‘Well, Shoot Me!’, originally submitted to Parabola

for a special issue on the themes of Repetition and Renewal, an ancient Indian myth about the

Hindu god, Indra, who tied a net with bells that she placed over the world. The point of which

was to ensure that no animal, thing, or human could move without moving the whole thing.

Grilli expands on the idea of a “primitive form of living…wherein human life is viewed as

being intimately bound to the forces of the cosmos as a whole…the individual perceived

him/herself as being a living part of an organic whole” (Grilli, ii).

In Intertextuality and Psychology in P. L. Travers's Mary Poppins Books (2014), Julia

Kunz notes that one of Travers’ main influences Gurdjieff presented to her the theory that

adults are asleep mentally with no knowledge or consciousness of themselves, and that in

order not to be an ‘idiot’ they would need to awaken to a higher form of thinking (Kunz, 83).

Mary is not one of the sleepers, and is called ‘the Great Exception’ many times throughout

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the books, as the sole being who did not forget her connections subsequently having to spend

a lifetime remembering. Travers wove these lessons from Gurdjieff into her writing quite

clearly in the book one chapter ‘John and Barbara’s Story’:

“I don’t believe I’ll ever understand Grown-ups. They all seem so stupid. And even Jane and Michael are stupid sometimes…For instance,” John went on, “they don’t understand a single thing we say. But, worse than that, they don’t understand what other things say. Why, only last Monday I heard Jane remark that she wished she knew what language the Wind spoke.”“I know,” said Barbara. “It’s astonishing…”“They did once,” said Mary Poppins…“Really? You mean they understood the Starling and the Wind and – ““And what the trees say and the language of the sunlight and the stars – of course they did! Once,” said Mary Poppins. (Travers 2010a: 97)

John and Barbara try to understand how the others could have forgotten and swear never to

do it themselves. Mary responds that Jane and Michael have only forgotten because they have

grown up and firmly tells them that they will too. The Starling, with whom they are having a

conversation, speaks about how Mary is different.

“You’ll forget because you just can’t help it. There never was a human being that remembered after the age of one – at the very latest – except, of course, Her.” And he jerked his head over his shoulder at Mary Poppins.“But why can she remember and not us?” said John.“A-a-a-h! She’s different. She’s the Great Exception. Can’t go by her,” said the Starling, grinning at them both…” She’s something special, you see…” (Travers 2010a: 98)

This is a recurring theme when the last Banks sibling, Annabel, is born in book two. She can

recall where she came from for only a short time, before she too begins the forgetting.

Travers was adamant on the notion that we start out life knowing, but forget all that we need

to know and must journey to get back to it.

As the basis for the prevalence of myth throughout the world, and similar types of

tales at that, she believes in organic knowledge, or rather knowledge of the bloodstream

(Travers 2010: 82-83). That people must work their way back to self-knowledge through

discovery is one connection to fairy tale and myth: the quest. Travers pointed out that this

idea already existed in Hebrew folklore: “When a child is born, it says, an angel recites the

Torah to it and tells it all and everything. That done, he puts his finger on the infant lip,

leaving a cleft that is there for ever and says one word ‘Forget!’” (Travers 2010: 84). The

child is then left to start his journey, seeking what they have lost, not knowing what it is that

they are missing, only feeling the absence of something critical. Grilli writes, “In what Freud

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has called the pre-Oedipal phase, preceding entry into language, the child does not yet

perceive him/herself as being separate from all that is outside or ‘other’ to him/herself and

thus feels deeply involved in the continuity of life and the world” (Grilli, ii).

Subversion and Belief

That children are still those who are closest to accepting things at face-value, speaks

to the damage ‘growing up’ can do. There is wonder, but also acceptance when Mrs. Corry

snaps off two of her fingers as a sugary treat for the Banks children in book one. An adult

would not have reacted so calmly in the same situation. Travers demonstrated in her books

that nonsense and silliness were not just for children, but readily accepted by her adult

characters as well. She breaks down the origins of the word ‘silly’ to demonstrate that it is not

a negative term.

Simple (whose oldest dictionary meaning is innocent, not knowing, and yet, oh, it’s tricky, not ignorant either; nor stupid, it has a celestial shrewdness) is kin to the word ‘silly’ and silly comes from the Old English saelig, meaning blessed and, by extension, holy. (Travers 2010: 58)

Even the Bible (NIV) included Jesus saying in Matthew 18:3, “Truly I tell you, unless you

change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” The

child accepts in simplicity, the adult over-complicates, because modern society has deemed

only the visible, logical, and rational as sound. However, it should be noted that Travers

repeatedly claimed she did not write for children stating in ‘On Not Writing for Children’

(1975), “You do not chop off a section of your imaginative substance and make a book

specifically for children for –if you are honest– you have, in fact, no idea where childhood

ends and where maturity begins. It is all endless and all one” (Travers 1975: 20-21). It would

seem, much like fairy tale, that the message and lessons of these books would be applicable

to people of any age because, once upon a time, fairy tales were intended for an older

audience. Zipes calls them:

…metaphorical stories that stemmed from basic human experiences and contained vital information that strengthened the common bonds of people living in small clans and tribes…formed the basis of narratives that enabled humans to learn about themselves and the worlds that they inhabited. (Zipes 1983: ix)

It should be noted, that with an estimated 84% of the world’s population participating

in one of the five major religions, the divide between the child or primitive mindset necessary

to see fairy tale and myth for what it is, and a more rigid way of thinking, may not be as wide

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as it first appears. Smith continues on the issue of the separation between the Primary World

and the realm of Faerie:

If we assign the tales to an imaginary world where animals can speak and magic is accepted as normal, then the term ‘fairytale’ is a shorthand for a type of fantasy that predates the literary fantastic. This raises one obvious problem: it places magical events in an entirely other world, as though all listeners of fairytales assume that magic can only take place in such a place, ignoring the possibility that once upon a time perhaps the distinction between fairytale and realism was not so clear-cut. (Smith, 2)

This is where Travers has come into the discussion of making that distinction and put it to

question as she has placed magic squarely into everyday life. She erases the line between a

non-magic Primary World and a magical other realm.

Zipes continues these ideas saying, “Though many ancient tales might seem to us to

be magical, miraculous, fanciful, superstitious, or unreal, people believed them, and they

were and are not much different from people today who believe in religions, miracles, cults,

nations…” (Zipes, ix). The issue lies in the randomness of value judgments about what truth,

fact, and reality are in a society. Travers cautions that in adults “the chattering mind takes

charge and obscures Unknowing with information…It has a name, if not a meaning, for

everything and dares without compunction at any moment or on any subject to declare ‘I

know!’” (Travers 2010: 170). She continues with this thought in her article ‘The Interviewer’

where she is questioned about Mary Poppins’ beginnings, lamenting that we require all

questions to have answers to bring ourselves a sense of comfort. We must have explanation,

solutions, and conclusions to have order, so as not to feel how out of control of our lives and

the universe we really are (Travers 2010: 208).

Travers wished to highlight the fact that Mary was unique because she had not

forgotten her childhood while so many adults do. In her article ‘On Not Writing for Children’

(1975) Travers points out that many of the writers who have written books loved by children

have been quoted as saying they write to please themselves.

But isn’t there, here, a kind of clue? To be aware of having been a child! Many people forget this; but who are we but the child we were? We have been wounded, scarred, and dirtied over, but are still essentially that child. Essence cannot change; to be aware of and in touch with this fact is to have the whole long body of one’s life at one’s disposal, complete and unfragmented. (Travers 1975: 20)

These writers did not write for some segmented part of themselves, but for the person who

never lost the first half of themselves like so many do. The importance of having access to the

whole of one’s life in order to find meaning in it, is critical to Travers’ Mary Poppins books

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and this is demonstrated through the segments previously mentioned involving Annabel and

the twins regrettably forgetting their babyhood knowledge.

Subversion and the illusion of knowledge

Another way that Travers used fairy tale in her books was to set a fairy tale within the

already magical story, with Mary often telling the children a ‘Once upon a time’ tale. In

books two and three, respectively, ‘Robertson Ay’s Story,’ and ‘The Cat That Looked at a

King,’ both involve Mary telling the children fairy tale stories that question the nature of

learning. These two tales caution against the pursuit of knowledge just for the sake of it for

knowledge is not necessarily wisdom. The title character, Robertson Ay, is one of the Banks’

servants who is better-known for sleeping and making mistake than for doing any actual

work. In the chapter dedicated to him, Travers gives readers the first clue that Mary is not the

only one with a long, magical life story.

The children meet a mysterious stranger in The Park who turns out to be the Dirty

Rascal from the nursery rhyme ‘I’m the King of the Castle,’ who knows Mary from some

time in their shared past at the King’s court. As another way of subverting fact and truth,

Travers writes, “’But Nursery Rhymes aren’t true, are they?’ protested Michael” (Travers

2010a: 237). Mary ignores him and launches into a story that seems to prove they are indeed

true. She recounts the story of the King of the Castle who possesses everything but wisdom.

In typical fairy tale style, a proclamation was made for Professors to come and teach the King

wisdom. If the candidates were successful, riches would be the reward, if they failed they

would suffer beheading. The Dirty Rascal comes along after many professors fail in the task

and teaches the King wisdom through simple rhymes and songs without anyone realising it.

The Chief Professor is the last to arrive and questions the King,

“…If two Men and a Boy were wheeling a Barrow over a Clover-field, in the middle of February, how many Legs would they have between them?’ “Does it matter?” said the King, smiling pleasantly.The Chief Professor started violently and looked at the King in astonishment.“As a matter of fact,” he said quietly, “it doesn’t. But I will ask Your Majesty another question. How deep is the Sea?”“Deep enough to sail a ship on.”Again the Chief Professor stared, and his long beard quivered. He was smiling.“What is the difference, Majesty, between a Star and a Stone, a Bird and a Man?”“No difference at all, Professor. A Stone is a Star that shines not. A man is a Bird without wings.” (Travers 2010a: 244)

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The Chief Professor declares he has nothing to teach him and the King embraces his inability

to learn facts and figures, placing importance on experience instead. At the end of the

chapter, the children see the physical resemblance between the Dirty Rascal and Robertson

Ay, realising he has been amongst them the whole time.

In the next example, Mary tells another tale of Old King Cole who had a head so full

of knowledge and facts that he became completely self-absorbed, forgetting his subjects, his

Queen, and occasionally, his own name. When a cat wanders into his court, claiming to know

everything, the King challenges him with three questions.

“If you laid them carefully, end to end, how many six-foot men would it take to go right round the Equator?”“That’s easy,” the Cat replied, with a smile. “You simply divide the length by six.”“Aha!” cried the King with a crafty look. “That’s all very well – but what is the length?”“Any length you like,” the Cat said airily. “It doesn’t really exist, you know. The Equator is purely an imaginary line...”“What is the difference between an Elephant and Railway Porter?”“No difference at all,” said the Cat at once. “Because they both carry trunks.”“But – but – but- but…” the King protested hotly. “These are not the answers I expected. You really must try to be more serious.” (Travers 2010a: 388-390)

After answering the King’s questions, the Cat takes his turn and asks questions the King

considers to be nonsense and has no answers for. The final question is, “What is the strongest

thing in the world?” and the Queen steps in with the answer of ‘patience.’ The King weeps,

realising that while he has knowledge, he has lost wisdom, for only the wise man knows

knowledge cannot replace the joy of life and the love of those closest to him. In finding the

balance between the mind and the heart, the King finds the self he had lost. These two fairy

tales, one about a stupid King, and the other incredibly smart, have the children questioning

who they are, what is real, and what is true. Mary is the catalyst for this questioning as she,

herself a fairy tale character, uses other tales for their original purpose: to inspire internal

questions on the value of knowledge, wisdom, and self-examination.

Subversion and thinking up alternatives

The most subversive Mary Poppins trait is that she is an adult who manifests

impossibilities and accepts them as typical parts of daily life, more so than the children, even

tending to scoff when they try to explain to her what is real, true, or possible. This is atypical,

as the generally held societal myth is that flights-of-fancy, fairy tale, or anything considered

nonsense, is meant to stay in the realm of the child only. The Pevensie children, in C.S.

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Lewis’ Prince Caspian (1951), eventually became too old to return to Narnia. In Barrie’s

Peter Pan (1904), Neverland is a place that exists only in the mind of every child, each with

their own interpretation of the place. Mary Poppins takes this idea further in book one when

she comes home to the children from her adventure with Bert in the pavement picture. It

should be noted that in the film version, Mary, Bert, Jane, and Michael shared the adventure,

while in the original book version, only the two adults went into the drawing, with Bert

taking Mary through. This is significant as it illustrates that for Mary the fantastic was part of

her everyday life and not strictly a game or tool for instructing children.

When she came back from her Day Out, Jane and Michael came running to meet her.“Where have you been?” they asked her.“In Fairyland,” said Mary Poppins.“Did you see Cinderella? said Jane…“Or Robinson Crusoe?” asked Michael.“Robinson Crusoe – pooh!” said Mary Poppins rudely.“Then how could you have been there? It couldn’t have been our Fairyland!”Mary Poppins gave a superior sniff.“Don’t you know?” she said pityingly, “that everybody’s got a Fairyland of their own?” (Travers 2010a: 29)

Mary does not only reshape the children’s idea of what is possible, using fantastical

adventures to do so, but is clearly shown to participate in them herself. Grilli writes:

…the strange events or characters that we meet are not the result of some magical spell cast by Mary Poppins to bring into existence something that heretofore did not exist; the links of complicity result from a sense of Mary Poppins as being intimately related to and in harmony with the possible rather than the actual (which she often virulently opposes.) (Grilli, 6)

This idea is represented well in the film version during the rewritten chalk pavement picture

scene where Bert goes through different nonsense rituals in order to get them into the

countryside scene. An exasperated Mary chides him for complicating something that was

simple, and takes them into the photo without any magic spells or accoutrements (DaGradi,

Walsh 1964).

Travers’ Great Exception: testing structure while guaranteeing its safety

Mary Poppins’ magical qualities are due to her being ‘the Great Exception,’ as she is

referred to multiple times throughout the books. She is the written embodiment of what

Travers called ‘the Unknown,’ which she defines in her Parabola article ‘What the Bee

Knows’ as something “…absolute and unknowable, that which unremittingly evokes the

question without ever guaranteeing the answer” (Travers 2010: 82). In this Unknown, there

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are never answers, only questions. Mary’s best-known quality is that she never explains

anything. Initially, a reader might find it harsh or cruel that she denies the children any

confirmation of the fantastic occurrence which has just taken place. However, Mary uses

denial as a tool to enhance Jane and Michael’s emotional growth. By adamantly refusing to

acknowledge what they know they have seen and experienced, she forces them to look inside

themselves for the proof. She requires them to have faith in themselves as giving a student

the answer does not teach them how to solve the problem.

That Mary Poppins is a fairy tale character seems clear as she herself exists in other

time with no beginning or ending that can be determined. She does not explain herself or the

events that unfold in her presence, and she is subversive, constantly challenging the status

quo. These are all key elements in any fairy tale. Valverde expands on this point in her article

‘Dreams and Liminality in the Mary Poppins Books’ (2007):

In line with Travers’ ideas regarding the value of personal discovery, Mary allows children to see beyond by subtly drawing back the curtains. Accordingly, she eludes any type of explanation about whatever lies outside the boundaries of the ordinary world of the Banks. In a way, she comes to subvert the established order, although in a concealed manner. (Valverde, 5)

Mary never explains these magical events to the children and, in fact, never acknowledges

that magical events have taken place. Generally, if questioned, she becomes incensed and

irate at the idea that someone so proper could be involved in such nonsense.

Despite the subversive nature of these books, it should not be assumed that Travers

was in complete opposition to all cultural norms and behaviours. Grilli sums up the

dichotomy of order versus subversion very succinctly:

Travers is the sort of writer who aims to liberate her readers from all overly strict and reductive pedagogical claims from a very specific civilization process and its standards, and from narrow-mindedness in general. Yet at the same time, her narratives suggest that she believes that…certain lessons must be learned and certain rules must be…recognized…the lessons…in the Mary Poppins books, are the ones of Life, rather than those of the specific society we find ourselves living in. (Grilli, 17)

The rules that must be recognised are adhered to completely by Mary as she instructs the

children on proper behaviour and gives them guidelines to follow while demonstrating

manners and propriety with her own behaviour. Travers purposefully chose a socially rigid

British setting, while creating a stern and proper nanny figure in Mary Poppins (at least on

the surface), and set them against fantastic adventures to highlight that it is only the belief in

possibility that needs to change, not necessarily one’s circumstances. She upholds the

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existing social structure by being the picture of lady-like behaviour and respectability, while

also encouraging the children to take a second look at what that structure might be lacking.

While the absence of confirmation is bewildering for the children, it also challenges

them to believe in their own experience and to draw their own conclusions. The idea of non-

explanation is at the fairy tales’ core; however, Mary does allow small clues to help them

confirm what they know to be true. An example of this can be found in the book three chapter

‘High Tide’ after one of her typical tirades following their under-the-sea adventure. As usual,

Michael stubbornly insists that something extraordinary has taken place and Mary scoffs at

the impossibility. But as this is nearing the end of the third book and Jane and Michael are

now very used to this behaviour, they very quickly notice the item of proof that has been

given, in this case two Sand Dollars and a Pink Starfish that have appeared in the nursery,

and confirm the event between them.

Subversion and Mindset

The first bit of magic demonstrated in the initial book is when Mary slides up the

bannister: pure silliness for the sake of it. The image is striking because a British child would

hardly imagine an adult sliding down a bannister, let alone sliding up, and this immediately

sets Mary apart in the children’s minds. That their adventures with Mary always start out with

the mundane is no accident. In her essay ‘Fear No More the Heat of the Sun,’ Travers, who

sees everyday life as magical, finds herself on an adventure in Brompton Cemetery. “The lost

cap of the blender and the broken chair-leg that had set me searching for replacements, were

nothing – if I would let them be – but doors into other dimensions” (Travers 2010: 25). Her

expectation that everyday tasks could lead to the fantastic if only we paid attention is at the

heart of every chapter of her books. Just a few examples of the banalities that launch a new

adventure in each chapter are: a walk in the Park, doing the shopping, household repairs, and

even the onset of a bad attitude. Life in a Pear Tree reflects the magic behind the mundane in

similar Travers fashion, with many of Felicity’s magical adventures beginning with simple

everyday occurrences such as closing down a pub for the day, walking through a park, and

spending time with friends. The subsequent chapter will explore these ideas in more detail.

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Chapter 4: Life in a Pear Tree - Looking Beyond the Surface

Introduction

“What I want to know,” she said, “is this: Are the stars gold paper or is the gold paper, stars?” – Jane Banks

The creative work that forms the basis for this project, Life in a Pear Tree, is an

autobiographical novel, covering less than a year of the author’s life. In this relatively short

span of time, significant events occurred that appeared to be fated or inescapable. In an

attempt to make sense of this specific set of events, the author chose to weave an original

fairy tale into her memoir. This was done to assist in answering the larger questions

presented, most significantly the question of what was the truth in regards to the relationship

between the protagonist Felicity, and the object of her affections, Malin. Patricia Hampl says

that she writes memoir to find out what she knows, and detailing Felicity’s story was an

attempt by the author to accomplish this same thing for herself. The use of the fairy tale style

of writing, as mentioned in previous chapters, allowed the author to gain insights into her life

as the tale that appeared onto the paper often felt more ‘summoned,’ as Travers would say,

than a conscious creation. What ended up on paper is part of the magic of fairy tale in that the

story conveys truths not easily communicated in a more direct manner. This chapter will

connect the previous chapters with the creative work, linking the critical with the creative

narrative of the novel.

Life in a Pear Tree and fairy tale

Where the non-magic world ends and a magical world begins is unclear in Life in a

Pear Tree, and this was done so purposefully to assist the reader in suspending disbelief as

required by traditional fairy tales. On page 27, a magical door appears in the pub behind a

curtain on the stairway landing, along with a silver key on the keyring Felicity uses daily.

While this is an obvious doorway between worlds, the first step into unreality occurs much

earlier in the novel on page 16. Felicity takes her familiar path home through the park when

she sees a multi-tailed fox walking through the park with her. She is unsure that the number

of tails are not a figment of her imagination, and dismisses them until a subsequent encounter

in the same park where the same fox prompts a conversation with her. While the magical

door does take her to a version of London set in ‘once upon a time,’ the appearance of Friend

Fox in what the reader believes to be a non-magical world destabilises that belief.

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In Kate Bernheimer’s article ‘Fairy Tale is Form, Form is Fairy Tale’ (2009) she

proposes four main elements that make fairy tale writing a style to be used in any fictional

writing. She contends that there are other elements, but identifies flatness, intuitive logic,

abstraction, and normalised magic as those most worthy of examination. “The final technique

I’ll discuss here is normalized magic. The natural world in a fairy tale is a magical world. The

day to day is collapsed with the wondrous. In a traditional fairy tale, there is no need for a

portal…In the fairy tale the magical and the real coexist....” (Bernheimer, 69-70). In

consideration of her idea of normalised magic, the whole of Life in a Pear Tree is a fairy tale,

very similar in regards to the Mary Poppins books, as it is set somewhere familiar but not

wholly without magic. Much later in the book, on page 101, Felicity will find an antique

book about the kitsune, a mythical multi-tailed fox, mentioned in Japanese myth and legend

that will help her to explain the magical world she experiences going through the door behind

the curtain. However, this by no means helps to bring the reader back to believing Felicity

lives in a non-magical world as Friend Fox is still the cause of the fantastic occurrences in her

life and he appears on both sides of the door.

Friend Fox’s creation began with the author’s fascination with the urban fox

population of London, frequently spotted on late-night walks home as portrayed in the novel.

The grey fur-collared fox was encountered by the author on Watery Lane in Wimbledon,

sitting in an empty lot. He was so unlike the skittish, small foxes often spotted, he seemed

otherworldly. Therefore, he was the natural catalyst of Felicity’s magical world long before

the research into the kitsune myths began. On page 101, Felicity reads in the book of

Japanese myths she finds in Paris about the ability of kitsune to create worlds within small

spaces, and this coincidentally fit perfectly with the story already in place. Whether the

similarities to existing myth were conscious creations or an unconscious amalgamation of

forgotten learned knowledge, Travers has commented in her essay ‘The World of the Hero’

on why there are many similarities in myths across cultures.

Wherever there are men, there are myths; and no matter where on the globe they arise, these myths have a startling likeness to one another. At some particular moment, always unknown – for they are not subject to the carbon test and can’t be dated; and they may appear at different periods among different peoples – the selfsame themes seem to emerge, produced a fruit that corresponded, not in its form but in its substance, with the fruit of all other races. The fact that the same stories arise in India, the Middle East, Europe, the Americas, as well as in China and Japan, is an intimation that their proper soil and seeding-place is not in any geographical location but in man himself. (Travers 2010: 13-14)

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The original story is interwoven with existing myth and legend, often outside of the

conscious creation of the author, who upon rereading, was surprised by how neatly the

created story fit into myth.

Travers’ relayed similar experiences in her essay ‘Only Connect’ (1967) in that there

were many instances where she discovered an element of her books that she had thought to be

original had been told long ago. She used the example of her ‘Hallowe’en’ chapter in Mary

Poppins in the Park where Jane and Michael received messages on leaves that had blown into

their hands. She later found the story of Aeneas and Sybil, which involved Aeneas begging

Sybil to speak her wisdom in words instead of her usual practice of writing on leaves. “And I

thought I had invented it!...Truly, I had far wiser thoughts than my own when I wrote that

story” (Travers 2010: 302). But this would not be a surprise to many writers who also find

that their stories have a life and power of their own, summoned from some creative place

outside of themselves.

Historical research as fairy tale catalyst

Considerable research was undertaken about the history of Felicity’s pub, The Pear

Tree, and the surrounding Fulham area. There are existing ghost stories about many London

pubs, and this one was no exception with multiple sightings reported by the current owners.

The author researched the history of the publicans back to the late-seventeenth century when

it was newly built. The list of publicans showed the Torrence family, Annie, Percy, and

Ronald, who were recorded as living at the pub in 1910. The family managed a pub

previously at 461 Fulham Road, and their names were listed along with a servant girl in

residence, Ethel Fitch. That the record showed Percy J Torrence as the publican in 1910 and

subsequently, Annie Torrence as the publican in 1914, led to the imagined story of an affair

with the servant girl and their eventual disappearance (Pubshistory.com). The Fulham area

was mostly farm and orchard land, verified with vintage OS maps from the time used to set

the stage for Felicity in ‘other’ London. The pub was built on Margravine Road and research

into the meaning of the word led to the discovery of the Margravine of Anspach, for whom

the road is named.

The margravine was Elizabeth Craven, a Fulham resident with a rich history and a

published memoir of two volumes, Memoirs of the Margravine of Anspach (1826). She and

the Margrave purchased a home, Brandenburgh House, on the waterfront near Hammersmith

Bridge in 1792. This house would become the setting for many of Felicity’s adventures,

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including her encounters with Princess Elizabeth. The Princess’ creation was inspired by the

eldest daughter of Lady Elizabeth Craven, also named Elizabeth, melded into Anne Torrance

for dual incarnations of her character. Her mother’s memoirs are unusual in their openness

and candour about the state of her marriage, her separation from Lord Craven, and eventual

remarriage. They also detail the unwillingness of her daughters to see her after the separation.

Much of the interior and exterior description of Brandenburgh House, also known as La

Trappe, stayed true to the few sources available describing the house before its eventual

demolition.

Life in a Pear Tree and memoir

Most of Felicity’s time in her modern London was a direct and accurate recording of

events and full conversations experienced by the author. As discussed in previous chapters,

memory can be faulty with missing details that are filled in by the imagination, especially

when compiling memories to create a narrative. The difference between truth and fact has

been discussed in previous chapters. To demonstrate the difference, the story told in Life in a

Pear Tree is true with only minor manipulation of the facts to help stabilise the flow of the

story such as condensing conversational content between various characters into one, when in

reality the same words were spoken in multiple settings or circumstances. The one exception

is found in the final chapter where Felicity sees Malin with another girl as these events are

completely fictional. Those specific events and conversations did not take place. This is a

demonstration of how to convey emotional truth while the facts of a story may not be

accurate. That Malin did meet someone else with whom he did not hesitate to begin a

relationship and that Felicity would find out by observation and through mutual friends is

correct. However, for narrative purposes it seemed most appropriate to condense what was a

slow decline into heartbreak into one poignant and compelling chapter that communicated the

emotion of the protagonist. A similar method was used by J.R. Ackerley in his memoir My

Father and Myself (1969) where he discloses in the foreword that events were not told

chronologically to heighten narrative tension: essentially for the sake of art.

The point of storytelling is to convey feeling, the previous chapters support this

assertion. Therefore, when telling a joke or a story, the petty details may change as long as

the core point of the story does not. As the purpose of writing Life in a Pear Tree was to sort

through an array of emotions, that these are accurately conveyed was set as the main

responsibility of the writer.

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Allowing the reader to experience the internal journey, her emotions, from the day

Felicity is introduced to the epilogue, is the point of the story. Travers had a definitive

opinion on biographical writing, stating that she would not write a memoir as she did not

want to write about herself. However, she proclaimed that if she had, “An autobiography

would be an inner statement, how one grew within, the hopes, the difficulties, the aims…” (as

quoted by Lawson 296). This is similar to Carl Jung’s intention with his autobiography as

noted in the prologue of Memories, Dreams, Reflections (1995), “Outward circumstances are

no substitute for inner experiences…I cannot tell much about them…I can understand myself

only in light of inner happenings. It is (with) these…my autobiography deals” (Jung, 19). She

also insisted that she would not read a biography, only the works of the author, because the

writer’s work was the biography.

However, as many of the writers noted in previous chapters comment about memoir,

it is impossible to know what parts of the author’s life are woven into the story and which are

fabricated. In regards to Travers, her writings told the story of her life, her inner life, but

many were also miniature records of her outer life; a collection of memoir moulded into

fiction. Much of what we know of Mary Poppins has firm roots in the people and places

Travers experienced as a child.

Aunt Ellie, a bulldog with a sentimental core, remained fixed in Lyndon’s adult memory even more vividly than her parents…Ellie lent her mannerisms to more than one woman in the Mary Poppins adventures. Not only did she live again in the starched and bustling figure of Mary Poppins herself, but she could also be found in the fearsome Miss Andrew – the nanny of Mr. Banks – and in Miss Lark, the Banks’s arrogant yet romantic neighbour…Like Miss Lark, Ellie had two dogs, or rather a succession of dogs, always called Tinker and Badger. (Lawson, 32)

Additionally, three tales from the 1940s originally given to close friends and family as

Christmas gifts were recently rediscovered and published as one work under the title Aunt

Sass: Christmas Stories (2014). These stories were originally thought to be autobiographical

“because these tales were printed privately as Christmas gifts…and because of their tone”

(Travers 2014: i). This would have been in direct opposition to her statement that she would

not write about herself, however, Lawson clears up the confusion.

…she later wove semi-autobiographical books around two servants, including Ah Wong, named after a Chinese cook who worked for the Goffs…and Johnny Delaney, named in honor of their hunchbacked Irish groom, stable boy and carpenter…Only much later, and only to trusted interviewers, did she confess that these stories were an amalgam of her childhood memories and that not everything she said should be taken for granted. (Lawson, 29)

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While Life in a Pear Tree is partially memoir and true life events are told as accurately as

possible, it is also a fairy tale in part. The mix of these two types of writing is meant to

compel the reader to reflect upon the relationship between those styles of writing and

between truth and fact. It should be noted that certain details in the fairy tale sections had

roots in the writer’s personal history, as demonstrated by the discussion of Friend Fox’s true

life incarnation spotted in Wimbledon.

Life in a Pear Tree and the duality of human nature

The central theme of Life in a Pear Tree is that individuals have a dual nature: good

and evil, darkness and light. As children, we are taught to behave to fit in with the established

rules, and while this is critical for the continuation of a civilized society, this does not negate

the idea that there is darkness in everyone. How much this is apparent in someone can vary in

degrees based on life experience and personal choice. Malin and Reggie are supposedly split

by magic into two opposite beings containing contrasting natures. However, on page 49,

Reggie snaps at Felicity in a similar manner to Malin, hinting that he may not be the perfectly

good half he was meant to be. Alternatively, there are many moments where Malin shows

caring and regard for Felicity or another character’s feelings. An individual made up of

purely negative human nature shouldn’t show any characteristics that venture into the

positive.

Bruno Bettelheim’s writing on fairy tales promoted the idea that they demonstrated

good and evil extremes to show a child how to choose to be good. In reviewing his book,

Travers points out that he missed the point, believing that good and evil are mean to be

complements instead of polarities.

The fairy tale does not choose between them. It shows their interaction. The devil should be curtsied to, for who but he awakes the angel?...Without the element of evil how will the story be thrown forward to the ultimate happy ending? In a sense, the dragon gives birth to the hero; the Wicked Fairy by crying “Death!” brings the Sleeping Beauty to life. (Travers 1976: 114)

Travers would make the point in her writings on sleeping beauty tales, that circumstances

could be all that stand between someone being the good witch or the bad witch in any story.

As if to demonstrate her acceptance of both sides of human nature, Travers sets Mary

apart from the other adults, who cannot seem to manage the typical behaviour of children and

are intolerant of their bad days. It is a mistake to see the children as well-behaved when Mary

is around as they often are not. Yet again, she seems to be the exception to other nannies in

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that she manages these bouts with the firmness required, leaving them to learn the needed

lesson on their own, such as with Michael in the ‘Bad Tuesday’ chapter, and Jane in ‘Bad

Wednesday.’ Mary never abuses them for the two halves of their tempers, she only uses each

to impart wisdom. This acceptance of their duality can be reflected in Travers herself, as

evidenced by the essay ‘What the Bee Knows’ (Travers 2010: 87). She writes that a three-

year-old told her that he was two boys, both good and bad, and nervously asked her which

she liked better. She answered in sincerity that she liked them both the same, much to the

boys’ relief, earning his trust at the same time.

Life in a Pear Tree makes the acceptance of both sides of human nature necessary as

the foundation for the most powerful type of love. The exchange between Princess Elizabeth

and Felicity during their first meeting in chapter 16 is intended to demonstrate how expecting

someone to always be good to love them completely is an inadequate and false kind of love.

The novel demonstrates that to accept someone else, flaws included, is the epitome of real

love. It was also the author’s intent to make the reader question how Felicity could love

Malin if all aspects of Reggie were excluded from the narrative: if essentially the memoir

were separated from the fairy tale. In response, Felicity saw something more than what was

portrayed by Malin’s daily manner. His negative actions were undermined by small positive

details that only she noticed and gave any significance.

As Travers has inferred in many of her writings, who the protagonist and antagonist is

in any story, might sometimes only be a matter of perspective or circumstances. Many fairy

tale retellings address the alternate perspective such as The Wicked Witch of the

West/Elphaba’s story in Gregory Maguire’s Wicked (1995), or in Disney’s 2014 Maleficent

film, which changed the title character from the antagonist in the original 1959 Sleeping

Beauty film to protagonist. Whether someone is considered good or bad is based largely on

context, and both Travers and Life in a Pear Tree encourage looking past the initial

impression of someone to find the truth about who they are.

Duality: Looking beyond the surface

To demonstrate how much of someone’s personality can be attributed to personal

interpretation, two critics of Travers and Mary Poppins will be examined. For some, the most

significant lessons and even Mary’s true nature are obscured. As misunderstood as Travers

herself, Mary Poppins is not loved by all as they have missed a crucial lesson: to look past the

surface or rather to ‘see past the end of their noses’. Kathryn Hughes (2013) wrote a scathing

article in The Guardian after rereading the books during the release of the movie Saving Mr.

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Banks (2013). In her opinion, the books are a collection of cruel scenarios and that any

lessons it might contain are left unclear. She writes:

Mary Poppins rules through coldness, stares, lies and, on occasion, downright terror…Cruellest of all, she constantly threatens to leave, playing on her young charges' terror of abandonment…The lessons that the Banks children learn are not the usual ones about relating to the external world – the virtues of being kind and polite so that one day they may become fully socialised adults. Instead, these are much more profound, internal, enduring lessons about the way in which grownups, even those who are supposed to be caring for you, will always let you down, maybe even wish you harm. And that this betrayal, in the end, is survivable. (Hughes 2013)

Her opinion on the books is atypical as most people, including the fictitious Banks children,

love Mary and see her as a source of security despite her tendency to leave. Hughes’ article is

representative of how nothing can be viewed objectively, but only through a lens of our own.

While Mary is strict, no-nonsense, and rarely lets anyone see through the stiff veneer, it

would be a mistake to see anything she allows the children to experience as cruel.

Another writer in The Daily Telegraph, Kate Colquhoun (2004), describes Mary as

cold, with a ‘great big dollop of terror about her.’ For those children who know what it is to

be truly terrified of something, Mary Poppins is anything but. Children have a very different

scale or measuring stick for what is terrifying than that of adults. There are many books read

and absorbed in youth, including the classic Grimms’ tales, that are harder to digest in

adulthood. Children also have a very different method for evaluating adults, and where adults

might find Mary Poppins frightening, the children see nothing but firmness and affection.

That Mary loves the children is subtle but obvious to those who realise that much of

what is true is shown through actions, not words. The children knew that she was unbending

and minded them with a firm hand, but they also knew they would be forever safe with her

around. In Mary Poppins Comes Back (Travers 2010a: 196), there is an actual terrifying

moment where the sinister characters Jane finds on her adventure into the Royal Doulton

bowl try to keep her there. It is Mary that she shouts for to help her, and Mary who rescues

her. That many people do not understand the heart of Mary Poppins should not be a surprise,

as her creator was misunderstood in the same manner. Multiple times in Valerie Lawson’s

Travers biography she mentions that other people found the writer cold, unemotional, or

difficult. However, it is abundantly clear in reviewing her multitude of work that if the time

was taken to look at the clues in her writing, a different opinion might be had.

A clue to why there might be difficulty in understanding who Travers was as a person

can be found in Colquhoun’s article. She has written an article for a reputable newspaper with

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a sense of authority on Travers, yet is quite obviously only slightly familiar with her work,

commenting, “There wasn’t much more to her writing than Mary Poppins.” With multiple

other novel-length works and more than sixty essays and poems in existence, this is clearly

not the case. Much of Travers inner self is hinted at in her writings, becoming the only type

of autobiography she ever wished to read or write.

Conclusion

Travers talks about the repetitive structure in some fairy tales involving three

brothers, which are not dissimilar to the biblical story of Joseph and his brothers.

In every version of the story, the Youngest either forgives his brothers or sees they are fitted out with princesses of their own…this one man, by taking pity on himself...repairs his past and redeems his world. And if his past, then all the past; if his world, then all the world. You cannot purify one stretch of the river without affecting the whole…’To repair the past,’ a wise Teacher said, ‘is to prepare the future.’ What then would this man’s future be?...he would live happily ever after…(Travers 1989: 64)

Life in a Pear Tree was written to reconcile past events in the writer’s life to find her ‘happily

ever after.’ Felicity needed to learn a lesson about the duality of human nature and how to

love not despite that nature, but because of both sides of it, to better inform her choices in the

future. By repairing Malin’s split existence and Friend Fox’s power, it is implied that she has

somehow repaired her own narrative – something only hinted at in Friend Fox’s promise to

her on page 152.

However, the end of the book leaves open-ended questions about why she had to learn

to love certain people and things just to lose them in the end. Much of Felicity’s journey was

not about her at all, but what she brought to the other characters in the novel. For example, in

the end Malin, reunited with both halves of himself, could find love and become the person

Felicity had only caught glimpses of before. She gave herself in service to the enhancement

and progression of many of the other characters, and it is this role that echoes Mary Poppins:

Mary Poppins was now much more than a servant with a secret life…She realised that George Banks had an instinctive understanding of the nanny and that Poppins had a reason for coming to the Banks’ – to find something for herself. Once she found it, she was free to leave. Mary Poppins was happy in her role as a conduit. Through her, people found balance and a sense of their true worth. (Lawson, 254)

The relationship between Mary, Felicity, and the other characters in their respective books,

was one of mutual growth. The novel does not have an obvious happily ever after where

Felicity ends up with Malin, and in fact ends on a darker note. This was done specifically in

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reference to the more gruesome original versions of fairy tales that existed before their

revisions in the last century. However, Felicity has been set up for further personal

development in the follow up novel to Life in a Pear Tree, as will the outcomes and effects

on other characters be more evident. Happily ever afters are not always what they seem.

It is also expected that readers’ impressions will be a valuable source of insight into

the narrative, adding to the underlying questions and potential answers found in the novel.

“For a writer is, after all, only half his book. The other half is the reader and from the reader

the writer learns. He has to learn his lessons as the reader” (Travers 1975: 17). Many writers

constructing memoir find that reflecting on their pasts is a useful practice for discovering new

truths about themselves and the world, but participating as a reader and with other readers

only enhances the experience. In order to achieve a connection with the reader, the author has

told the truth as she knows it to be. However, harkening back to Jane’s question about the

gold paper stars that opens this chapter, what is true and/or factual is hard to determine and is

left up for discussion and questioning by the reader. The use of memoir and fairy tale to tell

Felicity’s story was intended to assist the author and the reader in determining the truth

behind the facts. While clearly not all factual, Life in a Pear Tree is faithful to the emotional

truth of the author, and invites further consideration of the answer given to Michael Banks by

the Sun when he asks for a definition of reality. “What is real and what is not? Can you tell

me or I you? Perhaps we shall never know more than this – that to think a thing is to make it

true” (Travers 2010a: 271).

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“But remember always, as I told you at first,that this is all a fairy tale, and only fun and pretence:

and, therefore, you are not to believe a word of it,even if it is true.”

- Charles Kingsley

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“In our time there was once a little girl who set out to find the fairy tale, for she had

heard everywhere that the fairy tale had become lost. Indeed, some people said that the fairy

tale had been dead for some time. Supposedly it was lying buried somewhere, perhaps in a

mass grave. But the little girl did not let herself be deterred. She simply could not believe that

fairy tales no longer existed…So she asked the horse. The horse looked at the girl and

snorted with his nostrils and stamped with his hoofs. "You're looking for the fairy tale?" he

asked.

"Yes."

"Then I don't understand," the horse said, "why you are still looking since this is a fairy tale

already!" And the horse blinked at the girl. "Hmmm. It seems to me that you yourself are the

fairy tale. You're looking for yourself. Yes, yes, the closer 1 look at you, the more I can see it.

You are the fairy tale. Come, tell me a story!"

– Odon von Horvath

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Prologue

Once upon a time, in the aged city of London, there lived a girl. And once upon a very

long time before that, when she was a little girl, she had dreamed that one day she would

travel the world. She had been infected, you see, by the disease called love. This was not a

love for a place, or any one person, but for reading, and for this disease there is no cure. In a

small town in the farthest reaches of the cold, dark North, she feverishly read books by the

dozen, consuming and consumed by them. They had shown her world upon world, life upon

life, and she knew she must try to see, smell, taste, and experience as much as she could of

the outside world for herself. She yearned for freedom, adventure, and an existence

completely different from the one those around her were expecting her to live - a life that

probably involved soccer camps, minivans, white picket fences, and respectability.

Eventually, when that little girl grew up, she would indeed board not one plane, but

many. And, oh, the places they would take her! She would see the vast interior of Hagia

Sophia in Istanbul, and how Paris looked from the top of the Eiffel Tower. She would travel

in tiny tuk-tuks in India to palaces long abandoned, and walk on endless beaches to watch

innumerable sunsets. Her wild heart would not, could not be tamed, and she dared anyone to

try. But because of this heart the girl would often find herself alone; moving forward from

each chapter of her life while everyone else stayed behind. Little by little, she grew tired of

the constant cycle of upheaval - the goodbyes, the starting anew - her heart longed for a place

to call home. Life propelled her onward, to place after place, nowhere fit her just right. So,

she carried on, holding tightly to the belief that somewhere out there was her destiny, and if

only she kept searching…someday she too would find a place where her restless heart would

be restless no more.

However, the journey to happily ever after was never meant to be easy, and the path

she had chosen was riddled with dragons, detours, and, occasionally, despair. Deep inside she

began to doubt, and the girl, who was quickly becoming a woman, stopped believing that she

would ever find her home. She worried that the dissatisfaction with normal life and the thirst

for adventure that had been so intoxicating in youth would carry her away, and she would be

doomed forever to keep looking for that something more. Nevertheless, as fate would have it,

on one of her many journeys, her heart flew out from her chest so swiftly and lightly she

barely noticed it happening. Up, up, up it went, winging its way through the top window of a

forgotten pub and nestled itself inside the chest of a beautiful, curly-haired boy with perfect

red lips who happened to live at the top.

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At the very same time, in the ancient city of London, this same boy, was sleeping at

the top of a beautiful Victorian pub, unaware that fate had come calling. I have called him a

boy, because in many ways he still was, only having moved from the countryside into the

heart of the city a few years before. Not being a great adventurer, he was content to stay

within the little world that life at the pub provided for him. At almost twenty-four years old

though, he was very much verging on being a man. Day after day he would go from slaving

away for long hours in the kitchens, escaping only briefly late at night to pick up some sweets

or greasy fried chicken from the nearby shops, before once again retreating up to the confines

of his room in solitude. This would continue for quite some time with the lonely, isolated boy

not realising what he was missing in the outside world. Until, one day, as it always seems to

happen, the girl with the restless heart would wander into the pub looking for work, and from

that day forward life would never be the same for either of them again.

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Chapter 1

The previous occupants of the Doll’s House had given it its name. It could have been

inspired by the little blonde doll in a blue dress that was wedged under one of the stairs, left

for the new arrivals, or from its small size. Either way, it was appropriate for the tiny little

structure dwarfed on one side by a large tree, and on the other, three-storeys of flats. For not

being on a main road, there were many passers-by and most people didn’t seem to notice the

house at all, let alone see it as an irregularity. Occasionally, there would be someone rushing

past in the normal hurried manner of all Londoners, walking a dog or talking on their phone.

When it caught their eye, they would sometimes take a long second look at the anomaly

before quickly forgetting it and continuing down the street.

It was what some might call random luck that they had the opportunity to take up

residence in a place that suited them so well. However, you could also say it was random luck

that Felicity and Leanna found themselves living in London at all. But only Leanna believed

in such a silly thing as luck, mainly because she believed she never had any. She felt that

luck, at least good luck, was reserved for Felicity alone. The reality is that the house belonged

to Felicity’s boss, the owner of the pub where she had gotten a job her second term of

graduate school, and had been offered to the girls just as they had needed a new place to live.

One bedroom sat below street level, affectionately called the Dungeon as it tended to

be noticeably colder than the rest of the house and somewhat damp. It was a garish shade of

pink, but Felicity did not mind and had laid claim to that space. The other bedroom was at the

top of the small house. If you climbed up the metal spiral staircase that connected it all,

starting directly from bottom going all the way to the top, there was a sense that Leanna’s

room was the turret in the tallest of castles. The living space and kitchen, with their black and

white checkerboard floor, were in the middle, and there were only two doors in the house: the

double front door and the one into the loo. Despite its diminutive size, to the girls it felt like

one of the imagined castles of their childhood. It was exactly proportionate to fit the two lives

lived inside its walls, and was, in a word, perfect.

* * * * *

Felicity’s life in London had not begun with their arrival at the Doll’s House, at least

not chronologically, but it would represent the permanence they had long wished for – it

would come to be home. She and Leanna had moved to London in the autumn to commence

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their Masters degrees at one of the city’s many universities, and nothing about any of it had

been easy.

The difficulties compounded until they finally became too much for Felicity, and after

a particularly heinous day, she arrived home one night to even more bad news. Taking barely

enough time to throw on her coat and boots, she ran out of the house into the pouring rain.

Thankful for the downpour as no one would notice her tears, she walked for ages. Gulping

down wet air intermittently between fits of tears, she looked up from the street and glanced

into warmly-lit windows on her wander, watching people chatting and laughing together.

At thirty years old, she could not help but feel that her life had gone awry somehow.

The life of everyone around her seemed to be expanding outward with new friendships,

relationships, families, or careers, while hers was shrinking. Momentum had propelled her to

England, to live the romantic life abroad she had dreamed about since picking up her very

first fairy tale book as a child…and so far, it felt like an even more desolate existence than

the one she had left. Frustration set in remembering that she’d had friends, a job, and a

relationship back home, but had given them up for the elusive ‘something more’. She felt

further away than she had ever been from finally having a beautiful, full life that she could

grow within.

She had stopped paying attention to where she had been going and slogged through a

particularly deep puddle that sent a fresh wave of freezing water through her boots. It was

what she needed to bring an end to the pity party she was in danger of becoming lost in.

Cursing, she yelled at herself to pull it together, and tried to figure out exactly where she was.

Thoroughly drenched and cold, she decided on a direction that seemed reasonable and picked

up her pace a little to find her way home. It didn’t take her too long to realise she had done a

sort of circle and was not as far from home as she had thought. Having a good sense of

direction, she wound through unfamiliar streets in the general direction she knew she should

go.

Felicity hurried along a dark, deserted street noticing that not too far ahead there was

a large chunk of pavement where the darkness had been interrupted. Sniffing the air, the

smell of a real wood fire drifted past her. Curiosity made her momentarily forget the squishy

wetness of her socks in her boots and the chill that had settled into her middle. The light

seemed to be coming from the ground floor of a tall, red brick building. She examined the

scalloped roof, white brick striping, and the ornate metal entrance above the doors as she

hurried closer to what appeared to be a pub. Not looking or feeling in any shape to be with

other humans, Felicity settled on peering through the front windows that were painted with a

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gold decorative motif of leaves and pears. She and Leanna had passed quite a few hours in

various pubs after school in Bloomsbury, or on various nights out in Central London. None

had looked anything like this one.

It wasn’t easy to see through the steamy window, but when the interior finally came

into focus she had the sense that she was looking again into someone’s front living room.

Embroidered cushions and tartan blankets were scattered on benches and chairs; every corner

softly lit by warm light from the lamps, the old-fashioned candlesticks that sat on each table,

and by the fire in the corner. The blond girl behind the dark wood bar looked up and saw

Felicity’s face in the window. She smiled and waved causing Felicity to take a step back.

Remembering her manners, she smiled and waved back as well. The momentary enchantment

of the place broke and the cold settled back in with a vengeance. Knowing Leanna was

probably very worried by now as Felicity had been ignoring her phone, she hurried home,

determined to come back on another day.

Chapter 2

One week later, Felicity was walking at an unusually brisk pace back in the general

direction of the pub she had discovered. Leanna was rushing to keep up with her, irritated

after a near-miss with a fellow pedestrian.

“Sheesh, what’s the hurry?” she said crankily.

“What? Oh, sorry. I’m excited for you to see this pub I was telling you about.”

Leanna rolled her eyes. “What pub? … Oh, you mean the one you haven’t stopped

going on about all week?”

Unfazed, Felicity kept up the same pace until she stopped so suddenly that Leanna

almost ran smack into the back of her. Felicity was looking around and consulting the map

app she had downloaded onto her phone that morning. Leanna smirked, and asked if they

were lost, knowing it would get a rise out of her sister.

Felicity snapped, “No! It’s got to be around here somewhere. There are no signs and

the streets all look the same. Welcome to London. It’s supposed to be a bit past the

cemetery.” Finally getting her bearings, Felicity turned sharply to the left. “Ah, there it is!”

Sure enough, there it was, right next to a small church. The sun was just beginning to

set as the girls crossed the street towards the inviting warmth radiating from the pub. Felicity

felt inexplicably excited yet nervous as she pushed open the door to the place that had been

calling to her all week.

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There were eight tables of varying shapes and sizes surrounding the horseshoe-shaped

bar, with people occupying most of the available sitting space. The noise inside was much

louder than expected, with conversation and laughter filling the high-ceilinged front room.

The space felt like an old-fashioned parlour and was so intimate that Felicity hesitated in the

doorway, feeling like an interloper in someone’s private home. A girl with bright blue eyes

and brown hair greeted them with a warm smile. “Can I help you? You look a little lost.”

There was an open invitation in her demeanour that made Felicity like her

immediately. Taking note of the black staff apron, she responded, “Lost? Maybe. This is our

first time here and we were thinking about having dinner, is there a table for two?”

The girl glanced around the room and spotted a tiny table in the corner by the

fireplace, guiding the girls in that direction. “Here you go! Let me get you some menus.” She

disappeared through the doorway behind the bar for a moment and reappeared with two

menus, a crystal decanter of water, and two glasses. She chattered away as she unloaded her

tray of things onto the small table. “Normally we’d be having our weekly pub quiz in an

hour, but tonight there is a special play in the back garden if you are interested! LAMDA is

right around the corner and a bunch of the students are putting on a show.”

“LAMDA?” Felicity asked.

“The acting school. A few of the staff and regulars go there. I’m Deborah, by the way.

Let me know when you’re ready to order.”

There did seem to be an extra flurry of activity for what might normally be a quiet

Sunday evening in a pub. The girls thanked her and studied their menus.

“What do you suppose Lincolnshire Poacher is?” Leanna queried, eyeing one of the

many picture-framed blackboards hung in haphazard fashion all over the walls. They

advertised various bar snacks, Felicity scanning each of them until she found the board that

read Aberdeen Angus Beef Burger with Pancetta, Lincolnshire Poacher & hand-cut chips.

Right as she admitted she had no clue, from over Leanna’s shoulder a voice said, “Cheese,

it’s a type of cheese.”

The welcome information came from a lanky guy with brown, wavy hair, dressed in

chef whites. He had a heavy silver chain around his neck, a scruffy beard, and multiple scars

all over his bare forearms. He stepped down from the bar area and introduced himself with a

trace of Essex in the accent: “Malin, Head Chef.” There was something striking about his

coffee-brown eyes, and the way he had no problem looking unreservedly into Felicity’s green

eyes as they talked was unnerving. She twirled one of her red-brown curls as she tended to do

when thoughtful or nervous. She was grateful that shortly after exchanging pleasantries and

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receiving a more detailed background of British cheeses, Deborah pulled him back to the

kitchen.

After the girls ordered their food, they sampled the bread and oil that was

complimentary with their meal. “This bread is amazing!” Leanna exclaimed after the first

bite, “And you have GOT to go use the toilets. They have a silver sparkly toilet seat and a

flush you pull from above.”

Felicity laughed, “Well I can’t say those are the main reasons I wanted to come here

but I’m glad you approve.”

The food arrived shortly, and the sisters chatted about school and their week. Felicity

surveyed the bar while keeping up with their conversation. The staff seemed to be having so

much fun, dancing while they made drinks, or chatting with the occasional kitchen worker

coming out for a beverage. The bar was adorned with vintage photos of soap advertisements,

a large antique bowl holding a mountain of crisp packets, and a wicker basket full of the

addicting bread. The central island contained an espresso machine, and the liquor on offer sat

next to it on a dusty packing crate. Stained glass panels separated the front room from a small

back room to the right, with the kitchen and upstairs access on the left. She wondered what

could be found up the curved stairs on the floors above the pub. Felicity wasn’t sure if it was

the combination of the beer, food, and candlelight, or something else entirely, but something

in her felt righted in a way that it had not in a very long time. With no immediate clue as to

why this was, she put aside any further thought about the strange sensations. As the girls were

putting on their coats to leave, Felicity spotted a tiny blackboard behind the bar that said

‘Friendly bar staff required.’ She smiled.

Chapter 3

Felicity stared around the back room of the pub as it was her first time there during

daylight hours. There wasn’t anyone else in sight, not even Deb, who had sat her down at one

of the tables and claimed she would return shortly. Unsure of what one wore to an interview

for a pub job, Felicity had settled on a silver brocade dress and black cardigan. Nice, but not

too formal. Deb hadn’t said anything so she assumed she had chosen correctly. She glanced

through the back doors into the garden and spotted a tall, pretty man with dark hair and blue

eyes coming towards her. At that moment, Deb appeared again and took the seat across from

her. Blue-Eyes glanced at Felicity with a smile, and disappeared around the corner. Deb

launched into conversation with what was appearing to be her normal exuberance.

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“That was the Ponce who walked by. He and Nero own the pub together. You’ll meet

him later.” She said this with a grin that made Felicity wonder what was so amusing.

“The Ponce?” she dared ask.

“That’s what we call him behind his back. He’s a bit in love with himself and reckons

everyone else is too.”

“Ah. Well, he is quite pretty.”

Deb laughed, “Yeah and he knows it. So, have you ever worked in a pub before?”

Felicity explained that she had not, but had a multitude of similar experience. “I’m

doing my Master’s degree right now and need some part-time work. I can only do twenty

hours a week per my visa. I hope that’s okay.”

“Only twenty hours? Yes, that’s fine, but I was hoping to find my right-hand girl. I’m

starting my trial period to be the manager here and need a Second. No worries, though. Why

don’t we start you out with a trial shift?”

Felicity was puzzled. What on earth was a trial shift? Which is almost exactly what

she ended up asking out loud. Deborah explained that a trial was a normal thing in the UK.

The candidate would work for a few hours behind the bar, meet the staff, see if they’re a good

fit for the work, etc. At the end of the night you got a free drink as payment. Felicity listened

to her explain the absolutely foreign concept and then felt her stomach drop as Deb finished it

off with, “So how about right now? Would you be willing to jump in tonight?”

Felicity’s timidity was screaming, Not on your life! while causing her to

hyperventilate mentally. The other part of her that wanted to try something new got control of

her voice and she heard herself say, “Yeah, sure, why not? Let’s do it.” The other half of her

muttered, Traitor!

Oblivious to the internal dialogue, Deb said, “Great! Let me show you around a bit

and then I’ll explain the bar.”

Felicity tried to repress her excitement to finally be taken back through the curtains to

the inner bits of the old building. The hallway from the bar to the kitchen was cramped. There

was a closet office on the left in the middle, with a shelf and metal stand full of pink tubs for

dirty dishes on the opposite side along the stairs. Felicity noticed a heavy velvet curtain

covering the wall from ceiling to floor at the bottom of the first stair landing by the door they

had come through. She couldn’t help but wonder what might be behind it. She didn’t have to

wonder long as Debra pulled it back to adjust the lights. How disappointing! All there

appeared to be behind the mysterious curtain was the ugly lighting panel, a few empty metal

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hooks, and a baseball bat. She was informed the bat was Nero’s to be used as a deterrent to

any shenanigans or unruly customers.

Next, she led Felicity into the bright, white heat of the small kitchen. Felicity squinted

and peered through what they called ‘the pass’ to see Malin standing by the stoves chopping

vegetables. There were two others in the kitchen with him, Georgia and Gio, that Deborah

quickly introduced. The girl with long, black hair piled haphazardly on the top of her head

was introduced as Georgia, aka George. George was a tomboy at first glance, but exuded a

palpable confidence that translated into sexiness. She stuck her hand out for a quick welcome

shake before retreating to the prep room in the back where Felicity could see the dishwasher

was located. The other occupant was busy bantering back and forth with Malin as they

prepared for the evening service. Deb explained that he was Gio, their Italian. Neither of the

boys said anything as the girls hurried out of the kitchen but Felicity glanced back to see that

Malin’s eyes had followed her out of the room.

There was hardly a moment to breathe, let alone think, in the next three hours. Felicity

was pulled around the bar as if by whirlwind. Her engaging smile and charm became useful

in appeasing the regular customers who had to be patient while she learned to navigate the

different beer taps. Deb whizzed by every few seconds, attempting to fill her own orders,

while explaining to Felicity how to ‘pull’ a pint, not ‘pour’ a pint. The two older gentlemen,

waiting for their glasses of London Pride, were offering suggestions and support to poor

Felicity who could only manage to get beer to come out with explosive force, either not

filling the glass or overfilling it. With her shoes now soaked in beer, she was certain passing

out or dying of humiliation were the only logical options to get her out of what was clearly a

terrible idea.

As it tends to go, though, she got the hang of it and all panic had subsided by the time

Deb told her that she was finished and had earned her free drink. Realising how much fun it

had been, her only fear now was that they might not offer her the job. She chose a glass of

house white wine for her drink and sat on one of two stools on the left side of the bar. Dinner

service was finished now and the buzz in the pub had finally calmed to provide a more

relaxed atmosphere. Malin and Gio came out to get Cokes and then went to smoke after the

hectic night. They stopped to check in with Felicity who was feeling a bit awkward all by

herself.

Gio introduced himself again, and enquired in quirky Italian-tinted English, as to how

the shift had gone. Felicity assured them both that the first hour had been the worst of her life.

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Gio laughed, “They tried to get me out here at first but it was not for me. I stay safely in the

back where I belong!”

Felicity finished her wine and gathered her things to leave. Deb was still busy

wrapping things up so Felicity caught her attention to tell her thank you for the training and

hoped she’d be hearing from them. Deb told her she had done well, made sure she had

Felicity’s number, and wished her goodnight. Felicity exited the pub into the chilly night air,

still on a bit of an adrenaline high, but very confused. So, did this mean she had the job or

not? She lit a cigarette while she walked, taking the short-cut through the park between the

two main roads and the block of council housing, now very worried that she might not get to

be a part of that wonderful place. She knew she wanted that job more than anything now that

the worst was over.

Enjoying the stillness, Felicity took her time getting home, walking barely over a

stroll. She looked over at the trees bordering the park and noticed a fox sitting in the street

light, observing her slow progress home. Felicity loved the urban foxes of London. She felt

that somehow they were her people, being nocturnal creatures. This particular fox looked

older than the ones she normally saw roaming the streets after dark. He was larger than most,

with a velvety red-brown coat and a bushy collar of grey fur that made him look a bit aged

and regal. He sat calmly as he stared, and was not at all nervous or jumpy like the others she

had encountered. She silently greeted him with “Hello, Friend Fox,” appreciative of the

company at that late hour.

* * * * *

Two days later Felicity’s phone rang with a number she didn’t recognise. When she

answered, it was also a voice she didn’t recognise.

“Hey Babe! It’s Maree from the pub. Can you work tonight? We’re a little short and

it’s shaping up to be a busy Saturday.”

About fifteen questions ran through her head all at once –Who on earth was Maree?

Does this mean she had the job? This girl does know she’s only had a trial shift, right? What

is the dress code? What does it pay, for that matter? Is there paperwork to fill out? And…

Um…Babe? However, she simply answered that she could and asked what time. She also

managed to ask what she was meant to wear. Only getting the response of “Oh, whatever you

want, we simply try to look nice,” told her that her years employed in America had done little

to prepare her for how things worked here. She only had two hours’ notice before they

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wanted her to come in so she rushed around to finish reading for the one class she absolutely

had to read for and got ready.

There was overwhelming magnetism to the place for her and she noticed that the

closer she got, the faster she walked. As she entered the front doors she was immediately

greeted by a tiny bleach-blonde Australian, whose huge voice and attitude did not match her

size. “Oy, you must be Felicity, next time use the staff door since you work here now, eh!

Follow me, I’ll show you where to put your stuff.” Maree walked her partially down the

cellar stairs where there were hooks for coats and bags. Felicity quickly hung her things and

jogged up the stairs to catch Maree who was already back out at the bar folding napkins and

talking to the Ponce and a large bald man.

Felicity stepped awkwardly behind the bar and asked what she should be doing,

reminding Maree she’d only had her trial at this point.

“Well, for the moment you can fold these serviettes for service.” Maree motioned to

the pile of napkins. “Where are you from?” she asked while picking glasses out of the

dishwasher tray and polishing them with a blue cloth.

“I’m American. I moved here in September for school.”

“I don’t like Americans!” she said, matter-of-factly.

Taken aback, Felicity didn’t know what to do besides laugh along with the two men

who were watching the exchange and say, “Well, that’s not a good start for me then is it!”

Not completely immune to social convention, Maree reflected that what she said must have

sounded rude and she disclaimered that the Americans she had met thus far hadn’t been the

best, but that Felicity seemed alright.

“Nice, just keep digging, Maree!” said the bald one, he offered his hand to Felicity,

“Hi, I’m Nero and I own this bar.” The Ponce introduced himself as well. While the three of

them chatted, Felicity folded ‘serviettes’ and studied the pair whom she now worked for.

Nero was in his forties, sturdily built, with a slight gap between his two front teeth. He had a

huge personality and charm that was in no way related to his looks. He was a normal-Joe

type, not the sort of guy you would look at twice if you passed him on the street. Ponce was

almost the exact opposite with a beautiful face and an easy confidence. The two of them

together seemed to create their own gravitational pull and Felicity found herself not wanting

to move too far away from their orbit.

Eventually the customers coming through the door demanded her attention, tearing

her away from the amusing conversation with the bosses. She found this shift so much easier

and used her newness and other’s general curiosity about her accent to make conversation

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with the patrons. Serving drinks was easy enough, but as it was only her and Maree working,

she also got a crash course in how the kitchen worked during a mercifully slow dinner

service.

“It’s critical that you remember to grab the order ticket from the printer up here and

take it to the order board outside the kitchen. Make sure the table number is on the ticket too

or no one will know where the food is going.”

Maree shot rapid-fire instructions at Felicity while she followed her around trying to

mentally catalogue the plethora of details coming her way.

Starters were appetizers, mains were entrees, pudding was dessert. All courses were

generally ordered at the same time instead of separately like in the States. Customers could

order at the bar but table service was expected by some. NEVER EVER take anything to a

table without it being on a tray!

As Felicity processed the translations and memorized rules, Maree pointed to a silver

service bell right inside the kitchen door by the order ticket machine.

“Every time you hear this bell you respond! That means the food is ready and the

kitchen staff will get really cranky if it sits here longer than ten seconds.”

Felicity laughed before she saw from the look on Maree’s face that she wasn’t joking.

Okay, respond to bell. Check!

Later that night Felicity got her first lesson in closing the pub. There were literally

fifty things to remember to accomplish that task alone. Dinner service ended at 10pm and by

that time the frantic feeling of the shift had dissipated. Malin, George and Gio all came out to

sit by the bar for the free drink given to all staff at the end of their shift. Presumably this was

done to make them all feel better about getting paid minimum wage. Felicity entered their

drinks onto the staff tab titled ‘1879’ for the year the pub was built and listened to them

banter and joke while hurrying to wash glasses, wipe the bar, and do whatever else Maree

instructed her to do. When all the chairs were put up, candles blown out, and the doors

locked, she was too exhausted to sit for a drink and headed straight home.

Chapter 4

The next two weeks went by much the same as her first shift. It seemed the pub was

habitually understaffed so she knew by now that even on days she wasn’t on the schedule it

was a wise decision to be ready to work just in case. Per the usual, Felicity received a call

from Deb to come in for a busy Friday shift. On her way to the pub she mused that it was

lucky for her she didn’t have much of a social life. Going through what was now routine,

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Felicity entered through the back door yelling hello to whoever might be in the kitchen.

Descending halfway into the cellar to hang her bag and coat on the usual hook, she was

careful to duck the low ceiling so she didn’t brain herself on the beam that read ‘MIND

YOUR HEAD!’ Grabbing an apron, or ‘pinny’ in British-speak, off the shelf at the top of the

stairs, she tied it on while walking to check the reservation book to see what was on for the

night.

As she got to the bar the view of the room was blocked by a head of wild curls. The

curls were attached to the gorgeous face of a boy who was wearing a real airplane seatbelt,

loose ends tied in the back, to hold up his jeans. He was entwined with Deborah but stuck out

his hand to Felicity and introduced himself as Wolfy. The ice-blue eyes and wild mane

certainly made it believable that on a full moon he changed from man to beast. Wolfy had

been on holiday for a few weeks making this their first occasion to meet. Deb unwrapped

herself from him and as he left the bar area she looked at Felicity with a giant smile.

“Are you guys together?” Felicity asked with a smirk.

“No, no, just friends. But he’s amazing, and if ever given the opportunity, I’d marry

that man gratefully and count myself lucky.”

With veterans Deb and Wolfy on hand, the busy night went smoothly especially as

Felicity was now comfortable with the job. Wolfy so debonair in manner he seemed to glide

effortlessly through tasks while keeping up conversations with customers. However, he

worked intensely, managing to take and fill orders, re-stock, and do everything else that

needed to be done almost before the girls noticed the need. Moreover, he did so with a

flourish, as if wearing imaginary white gloves and giving a bow whenever he spoke to

someone.

Felicity was hurriedly trying to scrape the food off plates piled on the counter in the

hallway so they could be taken in the back and washed. As she was about to shove some

chicken skin and chips into the bin, Wolfy snatched the chicken skin off the plate and popped

it into his mouth. The three leftover chips followed in quick succession. Felicity was

absolutely horrified.

“OH MY GOD! I can’t believe you did that! That’s disgusting!” She stood there

trying to process what she had seen. His refined demeanour making it even more shocking.

Wolfy laughed and said, “Darling, I’m starving!”

“I don’t think I have ever been or would ever be that hungry.”

At that moment, the Ponce walked by laughing along with Wolfy, having witnessed

their little exchange. “Eh, that’s because you haven’t worked here long enough, Love.”

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Felicity kept her mouth shut but asserted in her mind that she was sure she would not

be eating off some random stranger’s plate…EVER, ugh!

After the shift, Deb grabbed three glasses of wine and they all parked themselves at a

table in the back room. Felicity was anxious to become a solid member of the pub family and

was happy to stay. Malin stopped by to say goodnight when he got back from the shops but

did not stay downstairs with them. His nightly ritual seemed to entail one drink at the bar, off

to the shops for kitchen supplies or fried chicken and candy for himself, then up to his room.

He never joined in for after shift drinks with the rest of the staff. Felicity felt perfectly

comfortable with Deb and Wolfy so she asked about Malin and his reserved behaviour.

“That’s his way,” Deb explained. “He doesn’t have much of a life outside of the pub,

he rarely leaves and he’s aces, for sure, but generally keeps to himself.”

“Not like the Ponce,” Wolfy laughed, “he should keep to himself a bit more!”

“What do you mean?” Felicity couldn’t help herself, she smirked and said, “He IS

pretty hot!”

Having noticed Felicity’s tendency to linger in the general vicinity of the Ponce

whenever he was in the same room, Deb sensed danger in that comment. She jumped in and

warned, “You’d do well to steer clear of that guy. He seems to make sleeping with the staff a

habit, although lately he’s pretending to have learned his lesson.”

“Oh, well he seems like a really nice guy, so does Nero.”

Deb and Wolfy looked at each other with indiscernible expressions on their faces.

Deb went on, “They’re both nice enough until you cross them. Nero can be a bit of a

tyrant and is VERY particular with how things are done here – hence all the rules. The Ponce

is reasonable but he is Nero’s sidekick and co-owner. They took over this place when it was a

really grotty old-man’s pub and turned it into what it is today.”

“Well they’ve done an amazing job. I’ve absolutely fallen in love with the place.”

“In that case, would you be willing to give some thought to training as my assistant

manager?” Deb waited patiently for Felicity to process the question.

At that moment, she couldn’t think of anything that would make her happier however

she was a little confused. “But what about Maree? I got the impression that you both were co-

managing.”

Deb rolled her eyes, “See this is what’s happened – Maree is really close with Nero

and the Ponce and was sort of managing this place. However, the big secret is that they’ll be

getting the keys to a new pub soon and want her over there to manage that place. They

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offered me this one and I had just started my trial period when I hired you. Sometimes it’s a

little hard for Maree to take a step back.”

“Would it be a full-time thing?”

“Ideally you’d take over Maree’s forty hours.”

Felicity felt her heart sink, “I can only work full-time when school is on break, so I’m

not sure how that would work.”

“I don’t think that would be a problem. The boys are happy to pay you cash-in-hand

for anything over twenty. Are you on a student visa then? And then what about after that?”

“Yes, a student visa for now and after that I’ll need a company to sponsor me to stay

here. They changed the rules this year. When we moved, we had planned on getting the two-

year post-study work visa that they are now abolishing.”

“And that’s something you want to do? Stay?” Wolfy jumped in, having been quietly

listening up until now.

“Oh, most definitely!” Felicity explained the frustrating visa situation she and Leanna

were facing.

Wolfy and Deborah chimed in at the same time with, “Well, that’s shit!”

“Yeah, tell me about it. We sold everything back home, shipped what was left AND

my two dogs here, and now we might have to go back after a year because they decided to

change the rules after we’d already accepted our places at uni.”

“Hey! I forgot. Maree is here on a temporary work visa and will need to be sponsored

next year as well. You should talk with her and the boys about it.”

“I’d be more than happy to help her out with it, but I don’t think I can personally be

sponsored unless I’m a manager here.”

Deborah was a bit dismayed, “Well, I’m sure it will all work out somehow, but think

about the training. Everyone has noticed how well you’re doing here and the offer is on the

table.”

She wished her two new friends goodnight after locking up the pub and they went

their separate ways. Felicity stopped before turning into the park, as she sometimes did, to

ascertain if there was anyone else walking through. She had been warned that it probably

wasn’t a good idea to go through it after dark, but she liked the silence and it was so much

faster than going up to the main road. Seeing that there was no one lurking around the fences

that separated the lawns, or skulking along the tree line, she turned down the path. It was

decently lit, she reasoned, so she turned her thoughts back to the question at hand.

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She knew her heart had already made the choice for her. It had been made about a

millisecond after Deb had asked her. What was it about that place that made her feel so

addicted? She spotted the grey fur collar of Friend Fox trotting down the far lawn into the

trees. She was startled to see he had not one, but multiple tails, twirling and swishing around

themselves as he walked, and quickly rubbed her eyes to see if the dim lighting was playing

tricks on her. He stopped, as if sensing her presence, and turned to look at her. Surprised by

his attention, Felicity felt herself give the fox a quick wave as if it were perfectly normal to

wave to an animal. Oh, well, she thought, it wouldn’t be the strangest thing she’d ever done.

Chapter 5

Felicity was lucky that getting passing grades in school came easily to her because her

focus on uni waned after she started her training to be Deborah’s second. It’s not that she

wasn’t enjoying her course in Migration Studies, but it included so many depressing aspects

and Felicity wasn’t sure she wanted a career in humanitarian work that would make daily

drinking an imperative instead of an option. The drive to make a difference in people’s lives

had driven her to study immigration and refugee issues, but there didn’t seem to be solutions

to the world’s problems by treating the symptoms instead of the disease. Her priorities were

shifting, ever so slightly, towards home, family, and community. Her immediate focus had

narrowed to two things: staying in the country she had fallen in love with, and doing so by

becoming as indispensable as possible at the pub that had become home.

She spent every available minute on the premises, even on days she wasn’t scheduled

she would find a reason to stop by. Not that there were many days she wasn’t scheduled. She

had a lot to learn and now joined Deb on Mondays when the pub was closed during the day.

This was the only quiet time they had for Felicity to learn things like doing the rota and

cleaning the beer lines. Frankly, she had never been happier. She and Deb were standing

behind the bar on this particular Monday, pumping the ale handles with gusto to run bleach

through the lines, pant legs rolled to their knees, aprons on to avoid the bleach ruining their

clothes. The best part about Mondays was the ability to put on Felicity’s iPod and blast

whatever they wanted through the speakers. If Deb had anything to do with it, the playlist

was always a mix of Billy Joel and The Eagles.

“Here, taste that!” Deb handed her a shot of the beer she had just pulled through the

line.

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Felicity took a tentative sip and spit it immediately into the sink, coughing. “Bleach!

Yuck!”

“Looks like we’re not quite done then. Run it through a bit more until it’s clear of the

taste.”

“Excellent, a few months of beer lines, accidentally ingesting bleach every time, and

the brain damage should be permanent.”

“Ha, ha! You know what, Felicity? Have you ever met someone who makes the room

brighter when they walk into it?”

Felicity paused, thinking immediately about Deborah. Rainbows and sunshine seemed

to appear when the girl was nearby. She simply said, “Yes, why?”

“Because that’s how I feel about you! I’m so happy you came here.”

Both girl’s ‘awww’d’ and as Deb stepped over to give Felicity a hug, she slipped on

the wet bar floor and immediately fell on her rear nearly dragging Felicity down with her.

They dissolved into peals of laughter, both a bit damp.

“WHAT is going on out here?” George had appeared at the end of the bar, looking at

them with one eyebrow raised and a wry smile on her face.

Deb and Felicity looked at each other and kept on chuckling as Felicity gave Deb a

hand up from the floor.

“Lunch is ready if you two can manage to pull yourselves together.”

“Ooooo, lunch! What are we having?” Felicity washed her hands in the bar sink and

they followed George to the kitchen.

“Pasta. The only thing the Italian seems willing or able to cook.”

The three girls grabbed a bowl of delicious-looking noodles and hopped up onto the

metal prep table to eat. Malin hardly ever ate and Gio had already eaten, so they were

prepping for the week while the girls ate. Halfway through her lunch, Malin looked up and

said to Felicity, “When you’re done messing around would you mind running to the cellar

and getting me some coriander?”

“I’d be happy to, grumpy pants, but we’re not messing around. This is called ‘eating

lunch.’ Sorry we’re not on your time-table, but some of us like to chew our food. What’s

coriander?”

Malin set down his knife that had previously been chopping other herbs and stared at

Felicity. “Coriander, green leafy Herb?”

“You mean ‘erb’? Herb is a person.” She stuck her tongue out at him – he did not find

her funny. “Okay, okay, be right back.”

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Felicity wandered through the cellar examining all the green leafy substances, still

completely clueless as to what she was looking for. After a few minutes, she admitted defeat

and went back upstairs to say she couldn’t find this substance called coriander. Malin looked

extremely annoyed, silently brushing past her to get to the cellar. The girls glanced at each

other and shrugged.

A moment later, he reappeared with the green leafy substance Felicity immediately

recognised as cilantro.

“That’s cilantro! Why didn’t you say so?”

“No, THIS is coriander.”

“Potato, pa-tot-o,” Felicity snarked back at him.

“You are SO American.”

“Yes, which is why it would be nice of you to remember that and try to be a bit more

patient as I’m still learning!” Felicity stalked out of the kitchen.

Deb followed her out, “Care to talk about it?” as they stepped outside the back door

for a smoke.

“Nope, just not a fan of being treated like an idiot.”

“Don’t stress, he does that to everybody. I think he enjoys playing the role of asshole

chef. It was done to him and now he needs to do it to everyone else.”

“Charming! What else do we have to do today?”

“I’m going to show you how to do a stock take and place the weekly orders and then I

think we’re done. One more smoke?”

Felicity and Deb were joined outside by the other three and were engaged in a lively

discussion about the merits of rollies vs. straight cigarettes, when the Ponce and Nero arrived

in their white truck, parking out front of the pub. They quickly noted Nero was in a temper as

he stormed through the lot of them, banging the back door open so hard they heard a few

things fall off shelves in the office. Startled, everyone sat there uncomfortably for a second.

Almost immediately, Nero reappeared in the doorway bellowing something about ‘is this

what I pay you all to do? Sit around and smoke fags all day?’ They all jumped up and slid

past him into the pub, quietly whispering apologies on the way. Deb and Felicity grabbed the

order sheets off the office printer and headed down to the cellar.

“What’s the matter with him?”

This was the first-time Felicity witnessed Nero’s temper and it was troubling.

“I wouldn’t give it too much thought. He’s probably upset because they were

supposed to get keys for the other pub a week ago and they keep getting delayed. When

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they’re like that it’s best to keep your head down, your mouth shut, and carry on with the

work.”

Felicity’s worries were not alleviated by that comment, but she refocused on what

Deborah was trying to show her and put Nero’s shouting out of her head as she started

counting crisp packets, bags of nuts, and wine bottles.

* * * * *

“Where did all these people come from?” Felicity barely had time to breathe the

sentence out to Deb, let alone wait for a response, moving at almost a jog through the bar to

answer the insistent kitchen bell that had rung for the third time.

George gave Felicity a sympathetic look as Malin began barking the second she set

foot through the kitchen door to pick up the plates, “What the hell are you guys doing out

there? That food has been sitting there for nearly five minutes and has probably gone to shit

by now!”

Felicity was less than amused at Malin’s attitude. “Sorry, I was busy getting a

manicure while someone fed me peeled grapes or I would have been here sooner.”

You could hear how packed the pub was all the way through to the kitchen.

“Look, I don’t need attitude; I just need you to get the food out.”

“Well there are only two of us out there and there are five of you in here. The table

numbers are on the tickets. It wouldn’t kill one of you to run a plate or two out if we can’t get

here right away.”

“What seems to be the problem?” The Ponce walked in from outside with Nero not

far behind.

Felicity jumped in before Malin could open his mouth again, “As you can see we’re

packed and sometimes Deb and I can’t stop mid-order to answer the bell. As it is now this

entire conversation is putting us even further behind.”

“Right, Nero and I will throw some pinnies on and will be out in a second to help.”

Felicity breathed a sigh of relief as the inside of her head currently had a list that

looked something like – Table five needs ketchup, take bread and oil to table thirteen, Irish

Jimmy was still at the bar waiting for his fifth pint of Guinness, the ladies room needs loo

roll, stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight!

It was comical to see Nero and the Ponce, in their near matching plaid shirts, serving

behind the bar. Nero had managed to find a white ruffled apron and was wearing it with

pride. Felicity was proud of how fast she had gotten behind the bar, but the Ponce was giving

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her a run for her money. Her competitive nature kicked in and she moved that much faster to

keep up. Although, every time he used the large difference in height to punch his staff

number into the till before she could, she wanted to punch him in his face - his pretty, pretty

face.

It was a good thing that they had jumped in to help because right as things seemed to

be under control a small crisis hit. The fun people at table four had been joking with Felicity

all night, so she was looking forward to another small chat when she saw them wave her over

to the table. Felicity went over to see what she could do for them. Without a word the

gentleman on the left simply pointed to a small grub-like bug in his salad. Felicity was

hoping it was at least dead, but no, there was definitely movement on the salad leaf. She

couldn’t do anything but apologise repeatedly and offer him a replacement dish. He was very

nice about the whole thing so Felicity took the plate back to the kitchen to show Malin. When

she showed him the bug he immediately became flustered.

“Well, it happens sometimes. Explain that we wash the lettuce when it comes in from

the supplier and before we use it, but things are missed. What do they want? What are they

saying?”

“Actually, they’ve been really cool about the whole thing. The guy is more than

happy to finish his meal and only wanted to let us know.”

“Offer them a bottle of wine or something and say what I just said.”

“Alright, will do.”

Felicity went back out to the table to smooth things over, but one of the women at the

table could not put the image of the bug out of her head and refused to eat the rest of her

meal. Felicity did offer the bottle of wine, which they declined, so she offered to take the

woman’s mostly uneaten meal off the bill. A happy table once more, Felicity left them to go

find the Ponce to explain what happened. She found him on the stairs in the hallway and

proceeded to explain the situation. He stopped her as she got to the part about the bottle of

wine that had been offered.

“First off, we would NEVER offer a bottle of wine for free. We have the right to fix

the dish first and that’s all that should have been offered.”

Felicity was taken aback, “I’m sorry, I only repeated what Malin said to say, mainly

because it seemed like the smart thing to do.”

Unbeknownst to Felicity, Malin had been standing behind her waiting to speak with

the Ponce. “I didn’t say any such thing. I would never say to offer them anything for free.”

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She looked back and forth between them both, trying to process how he could lie

outright like that.

“I’m sorry, I have an excellent memory and that is exactly what you said.”

“Sorry, I didn’t.”

Sensing a fight brewing, the Ponce stepped in, “Look, no matter how it happened it’s

been offered so what is the resolution? Felicity, you’re quickly becoming a senior member of

staff and you’re going to be called on to make these kinds of decisions. However, before you

offer anything come to me or Nero next time.”

Felicity bit back what she wanted to say to Malin (big fat liar!) and directed her

response to Ponce in an even tone. “It’s already been taken care of. It makes perfect sense to

take off the woman’s meal, even though hers didn’t have the bug in it. His lamb cost 25 quid,

her risotto is 16 quid. If he had made a big deal out of it, we would have had to comp his

meal. So, in the end it’s a win for us and we look really good in front of the customer.”

The minute Felicity mentioned the math of it being in their favour, the Ponce’s face lit

up. “You’re right. Great decision! And now I have dinner.”

They both looked over at the barely touched risotto sitting on the hallway counter.

“You guys have issues.” And with that Felicity walked away, happily reflecting on

four important words - ‘senior member of staff’ while trying not to reflect on how Malin had

thrown her under a bus.

Later as Nero was heading upstairs to his flat for the night and everyone was nearly

finished with closing duties, he walked by Felicity and dangled a set of keys in her face.

“Here you go. Might be needing these.”

Felicity was a bit dumbfounded. “What are they?”

Nero chuckled, “Hopefully for locking up the pub so we don’t get burgled.”

Her own set of keys! She was on cloud nine, and after thanking Nero, she ran in to

report the news to Deb, who laughed at her while putting up chairs. She was fast becoming

more and more entwined with the world inside the pub every day and it felt like hers to

have…it felt meant to be.

Chapter 6

It was an especially slow Saturday afternoon that found Deb and Felicity leaning on

the bar having a chat and drinking a soda. They jumped a little when the door opened, but

relaxed when they saw it was Deb’s friend Paula come to visit with another friend. Deb

rushed over to give her a hug while Felicity made their standard order. As Felicity sat their

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drinks on the table, Paula asked her to sit down. Reasoning that Nero and the Ponce weren’t

due back for some time, the prep for dinner was done, and no one else had come in, Felicity

decided it was probably safe to have a seat. She had no desire to get in trouble by literally

sitting down on the job.

Deb noticed her hesitation, “Don’t worry, we CAN have a bit of fun, occasionally.”

Felicity gave an unladylike snort of disbelief but sat down anyway. The other woman

introduced herself as Delia. A few minutes of polite conversation and inevitably the question

of what everyone did for work came up. Delia called herself a clairvoyant and said she

worked at an occult shop near Piccadilly Circus. Of course, this turned the conversation in a

whole new direction as both girls asked questions about what she meant by clairvoyant.

Paula, being the sort of person who would, jumped in and answered for her by explaining that

Delia could sense people or events in another time or space. Delia, used to Paula’s

interjections, merely nodded in agreement while adjusting very thick glasses.

A bit sceptical, but curious to know more, Felicity asked, “So how does it work? Do

visions come to you, or do you have to be somewhere specific, or be holding something

specific?”

Delia got to answer herself as Paula was mid-sip. “It depends. I usually focus my

energy on an object or in a place. The more stored energy there is, the more likely it is that I

will sense something.”

Deb jumped in, “Well what about this place? The boys said when they first got it, the

regulars told stories about ghosts in the apartments and cellar.”

“If you shut the music off, and we aren’t interrupted for a few minutes, I can see what

I can see if you’d like? There’s a good chance I could hear something as well. I specialise in

clairaudience, which is psychic hearing.” Delia patted her bushy red hair and smiled at the

incredulous looks on their faces. “Let’s go ahead and try it, shall we?”

Both girls eagerly agreed to the proposal and scrambled to close curtains and turn off

music before sitting back down.

“What do we do?” Felicity asked.

Paula answered that they weren’t to do anything but sit quietly. They could see Delia

gathering her focus already, with eyes closed and palms turned upwards. Feeling a bit silly,

Felicity and Deb avoided making eye contact with each other, lest they giggle and spoil the

mood. After about three minutes per the clock above the doorway into the back room, Delia

opened her eyes and rubbed them a bit as if waking up from a nap. Everyone looked at her

expectantly.

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She started, “I must say this is quite an interesting place, although I’m not surprised

considering how old it is.” She paused to wipe her glasses with a cloth.

“Well! Are you going to tell us?” Deb was bouncing a little in her chair, not very

patient with Delia’s pauses.

“There were quite a few voices that came through, but one was much louder than the

others, probably because it seemed a lot angrier. That’s always a little unsettling for ME, but

not generally harmful to the present, although... Tell me, do Nero and his partner have

relationship problems?”

Deb told her that shortly after moving in above the pub, they had started fighting quite

badly and she had since left him.

Delia nodded, “I’m not surprised. The anger I felt was fierce and potent. Normally the

past is the past and feels to me like an emotional echo – like a memory. The emotions I felt

were fresh, as if the events were still taking place. It was clear there was once a woman

landlord here. She had a great love in her life, but something happened to break her heart. I’m

not sure if he died or left but there is someone in mourning. I kept hearing two names: Anne

and Reggie.”

For Deborah, the mystery had sparked the actor within her and she had begun making

up more dramatic versions of what the real story might have been. Felicity wasn’t listening to

the tales Deb had begun to spin. A bit of a chill had settled into her stomach, but for the life

of her, she couldn’t think why. Saved from her thoughts by the slam of the front door, she

jumped up as a large group of customers came in. Quickly thanking Delia for the reading, and

both woman for the chat, she put on her customer face and began taking orders.

* * * * *

The slow day shift gave no indication of how busy the night would become and

everyone was in high spirits after serving a record number of diners. Nero and the Ponce had

been in an overly generous mood and launched post-shift drinks with two bottles of Prosecco

for them to share. Felicity, Deb, Wolfy, Gio, George, Maree, and surprisingly, Malin were all

smooshed in around table ten in the back room, talking and carrying on. After the bubbles

were gone, they decided to pool the night’s tip money to buy more wine and keep the party

going. Nero and the Ponce didn’t mind extra drinks if they were paid for the next day, the

noise level was kept to a minimum, and there was no drinking in the front room as it was a

potential licensing violation if anyone saw. It didn’t take very long before the alcohol

whispered to someone that a rousing game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ might be good fun.

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“So how do you play?” asked Gio, who had never been initiated into the ridiculous

world of the drinking game before. Felicity noted that the game must span nationalities since

she knew it, as did her British and Australian companions.

Wolfy explained, “Everyone takes a turn saying something they have or haven’t done

before and anyone who has done it has to drink. For instance, I can say – Never have I ever

run naked through a park.”

Everyone burst out laughing as Maree took a large gulp of the wine in front of her to

demonstrate the point. Gio looked unsure but bravely took the next turn. Felicity was as

boisterous as the rest - happy. It was a small moment during a lull in the game, but Felicity

noticed Malin staring at her from across the table from his slouchy position on the bench. She

tried to ignore him, instead focusing on the game. As the night wore on, one by one the others

left until a very tipsy Felicity found herself alone with Malin.

“Shall we grab another glass of wine?”

“Sure.” Felicity answered. She was caught off guard by Malin’s newfound

willingness to socialise. She was even more surprised that he was now opting to stay

downstairs with everyone else having departed. Too inebriated to think much about it, she

thanked him when he set down two glasses of Pinot Grigio and pulled a chair right up next to

her at the corner of the table. They chatted for another hour or so. Felicity lost track of the

time. He was much sweeter one-on-one than what the cranky kitchen persona suggested and

was easy to talk to. She heard herself chattering on about her love for England and the pub,

what she was studying at school, her family…anything and everything. It was all a bit hazy

until she noticed that somehow his knees had found their way under hers. Like a run-down

pocket watch, her brain was running about ten minutes slow, and right as she wondered how

he had gotten so close without her noticing, he leaned in to kiss her. What startled her more

than him kissing her, was the fact that she was kissing him back.

Before she knew it, they had somehow toppled over onto the floor of the back room

and she was busy monitoring the location of the additional hands he had seemed to acquire.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Felicity’s brain had finally started moving in real time. “There is

no way this is going any further, especially not on this floor.”

Malin laughed and they both came up for air. His movement in the wrong direction

caused Felicity to bang her head into a chair leg.

“Ouch! Is this your plan? Concuss me into submission?”

“Sorry! Got a little carried away there.”

Felicity was snuggled against him with his arm around her as a pillow.

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“It’s only…well, I haven’t met anybody like you in a very, very long time. You’re so

cocky.”

“Cocky? Rude! I think you have me mistaken for someone else. I’m really quite shy.”

“That’s not what I meant. I only meant that you’re beautiful and confident and I think

you underestimate yourself.”

“What about you? Despite your demeanour you’re such a nice, sweet guy.”

“Ah, don’t say that. The nice guy never gets the girl.”

“That’s not true.”

They continued to lay there talking and getting to know each other for a long time.

The surly, reclusive Malin was nowhere to be seen. It was as if he had swapped places with

his good twin.

Felicity thought she might be seeing a bit of light coming in through the drapes

covering the garden doors. The realisation that morning might be right around the corner

launched her into action.

“Okay, I seriously need to go home now! I meant what I said, this isn’t going any

further.”

“You’ve been saying that for hours!”

“I mean it this time.”

They finally managed to get upright. Felicity collected her things while Malin sat

himself on a chair and waited to walk her out. He pulled her onto his lap when she leaned in

to hug him goodbye.

“What are we going to do about this?” he asked, holding onto her tightly, brushing her

curls out of her face.

“Oh, Malin, you only want me because you’re drunk.” Felicity’s cautious nature was

kicking in and she knew she needed some time to figure out how this had happened.

“We haven’t had a drink in quite some time, so what if I want you tomorrow, and the

next day, and the next, and every day after that?”

She laughed, “I have some things I need to sort in my head, and we have all summer

to figure it out.”

“You need to be sure of something before you get into it. I can respect that.”

Felicity kissed him, slid off his lap, and finally moved towards the back door of the

pub with him following behind. As she pulled the door open she turned around and smiled at

him. Unsure of what else to say, she turned to go.

“Wait!”

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He pulled her in for one last kiss and held her in place for a minute, staring uncertain

emotions into her eyes. He sighed heavily as she left. Felicity couldn’t stop laughing to

herself, it felt like a whole new world outside. It wasn’t often that life surprised her, but this

had knocked her for a loop, and she could only think that somehow she had uncovered a well-

kept secret. While everyone had been looking at the Ponce, the truly beautiful one had

somehow slid under their radar.

A quick check of her phone informed her that it was nearly 5 a.m. and walked as

swiftly as she could towards home. Halfway through the park she got the overwhelming

feeling that she wasn’t alone. She looked all around her but couldn’t see anyone. Walking

even faster, prior warnings about the dangers of that park in her head, a voice from nowhere

stopped her dead in her tracks. She whirled around to identify the speaker and looked down

to see Friend Fox. He had been padding softly behind her. He stopped walking when she did

and sat down few feet from her. ‘Great’, she thought, ‘I’m hearing voices while being stalked

by a wild animal.’ She decided to walk backwards a few steps to put more distance between

them while keeping an eye on the fox.

“I said, you had better hurry, the curse only lifted for tonight.”

Funny, Felicity’s brain felt like that old pocket watch again as she tried to process two

words ‘talking’ and ‘fox.’

The rational side of her brain, overwhelmed by the surprising turn of events with

Malin, decided to give up, faced with this new impossible scenario, and clocked out for the

night. Accepting that the animal in front of her was indeed trying to have a conversation, she

responded logically in an illogical situation.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The boy. He woke up tonight did he not?”

“Malin?”

To Felicity the fox looked annoyed, “Yes, who else?”

“Okay no need to be snippy. You’ve sprung a lot on me in one go. What curse and

what has it got to do with me and Malin?”

“Look for the door. You already have the key.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re talking about!”

The fox ignored her confusion and went on speaking, “When you find the door you

must do whatever it takes to break the curse. Break it or you will lose him forever.”

Felicity rubbed her very tired eyes while trying to formulate another question. When

she opened them Friend Fox had gone leaving her alone in the middle of the park.

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Chapter 7

Leanna woke up briefly when Felicity finally arrived home. With only one eye half

open she checked to see if Felicity was okay and then promptly went back to sleep. Felicity

wanted to tell her about everything right away but something inside her felt possessive of the

night’s strange events and she didn’t want to think about them rationally just yet. Even

though she knew if anyone would believe her, it would be Leanna. Sleep did not come

quickly as Felicity ran through the evening over and over in her mind.

The fox, had he really spoken to her in the park or had she been so tired that she’d

imagined it? And what about the key? What key? What door? The only keys in her

possession where the two keys to the back door of the pub and her house keys. When she

finally fell asleep she dreamed in flashes – a silver key with a vine and leaf top, a red velvet

curtain, a fox, a heavy wooden door, Malin, and an old woman with a nest of grey hair and

amber eyes, so cold and intense it was as if they had never beheld anything beautiful.

* * * * *

Felicity startled awake as if from a bad dream and sat up, heart racing. She had the

image of the old woman burned in her brain and was forced to blink a dozen times before it

faded and she could see the room around her properly. Friend Fox! Her brain could not

accept that it happened and she didn’t trust herself considering how groggy she felt. It

wouldn’t be the first time she had woken up from a dream, convinced it had been real. The

memory of the night with Malin, however, was fresh and put a smile on her face.

She quickly dressed and headed to the pub for the 10am to close double-shift Deborah

had scheduled her for on the rota. It was Friday, and it was going to be a long one. She

remembered that Malin was also meant to be on a double so she didn’t even mind being tired.

On her way through the park she looked around. The talking fox had seemed so real, but how

could it have been? The thought of him halted her whirling thoughts and gave her the

uncomfortable urgent feeling you have when you know you have something to do but can’t

remember what it is. Arriving at work, she pushed the feeling away, opening duties taking her

full attention.

She spied Malin by the stoves on her way back up the cellar stairs and popped in to

say hello with a coy smile on her face. He hardly acknowledged her presence and muttered a

sullen, ‘Hello,’ back to her. She felt a cold draft of fear drift through her chest. His energy

had shifted; Felicity could feel it. She told herself not to jump to conclusions. It was early and

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they had been up rather late. It was perfectly possible that he was tired and grumpy and she

decided not to take it personally.

* * * * *

Felicity finally took a break at 5 p.m. when Wolfy arrived for the night shift. Felicity

grabbed her pack of smokes and headed outside where she found Malin eating a bowl of

pasta.

“Heya! Feeling alright?”

Malin glanced up at her with zero expression on his face. “I’m feeling fine; why

wouldn’t I be?”

Again! Not sure of what to make of the indifference, Felicity said, “Well, we had a bit

of wine and were up rather late. I thought you might be a bit tired…I know I am.”

“Nah, I’m fine. I don’t generally go to sleep early anyway. Have you checked the

menus with Ponce and Nero yet?”

“No, Wolfy just got here and I wanted to smoke first since I’ve been trapped behind

the bar all day.”

“Just make sure you get it done soon. Tonight’s looking like it’s going to be busy and

I don’t want any mistakes.”

The cold draft of fear that had settled into her chest earlier was now a full-blown

blizzard and Felicity felt like crying. It appeared Malin’s good twin had gone back into

hiding. Or maybe she was expecting too much. Maybe he was acting like this so no one else

would guess what had happened between them. Work and personal separate? She could do

that. They could talk about it tonight after the shift.

Maree, Wolfy, and Kit, the new girl Deb had recently hired, all had things to do when

they were done closing so Felicity sent them home. Malin was still in the kitchen placing the

orders for the next day and it would just be the two of them as Nero had gone upstairs hours

before. Felicity re-cleaned the bar area, the fridges, and then found creative ways to stack the

packets of crisps in the bowl while waiting for Malin to finish. She assumed he would come

out to the bar when he was done. Finally, she poured them both the typical glass of Pinot

Grigio and took a seat on one of the bar stools. A few minutes later she heard the kitchen

light go off. Malin stuck his head through the doorway, said goodnight, and walked up the

curved stairs to his room. Felicity was so thunderstruck she couldn’t even think. Goodnight?!

Utterly confused and more than a little upset that he was acting like nothing had

happened between them, Felicity dumped the remaining wine in the sink and set the glasses

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in the dishwasher rack. She pulled back the heavy velvet curtain on the landing to shut off the

remaining lights. It took a few tries before she could manage to get them off. Which of the

fifteen switches controlled the various fixtures still managed to confuse her. Cranky, and

desperate to get home, she huffed down the hallway and through the cellar door to grab her

bag and jacket. Right as she turned around to go back up, the two hallway lights she had left

on went out completely.

She froze; freaked out to be in the quiet, and now pitch black, pub all on her own. The

darkness felt oppressive and with the eerie cellar at her back, she forced herself to go

forward, feeling her way back to the light panel. There was a faint glow coming from behind

the curtain which made it easier for her to see in the blackness. Felicity was grateful for it

until it occurred to her that there shouldn’t be any light coming from behind the curtain.

Felicity gripped her keys tighter as she neared the source and pulled the heavy fabric

sideways. The gleam appeared to be coming from the small frosted window of a door - a door

that had not been there three minutes before. The hand she had clenched around her keys

finally sent a message to her brain that all was not as it was supposed to be in that regard

either.

She held up the significantly heavier key ring to examine the cause of the extra

weight. The three keys that were normally on the ring were now four. She studied the

mystery key, which dwarfed its companions: ornate silver filigree made up a vine and leaf

pattern at the top, the vines intertwined each other down the shaft ending in two protruding

leaves that formed the bit. With the new key in her tightly-closed fist, she dropped her hand

back down to her side, and took a step back to examine the door.

The dark wood was heavily carved with the same pattern as the key, a semi-circle of

opaque glass was at eye-level. The doorknob was bronze and shaped like a pear, the keyhole

just beneath, curls of light filtering through from what lay beyond. The truth dropped into her

like a stone. Friend Fox hadn’t been a figment of her imagination, nor had he been a dream.

Here she was, staring at what could have been a scene from a favourite book, and she was

afraid. Part of her wanted pretend it wasn’t happening, chalk it up as the side effect of fifteen

hours on her feet after very little sleep, ignore it, and go home as fast as her legs could carry

her. She could do that…or she could use the key that had appeared, for the door that had also

appeared, and choose to go down the rabbit hole or so to speak. The memory of how it felt to

have Malin’s heart beating next to hers the night before pushed out any remaining fear.

Rabbits, foxes – if madness was setting in how was she going to stop it? Determined to see

what lay beyond, she moved back towards the keyhole, inserting the leaves into the lock. A

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few more seconds passed as her mind rushed through the possibilities, which at this point,

were endless. No more thought! It was time to take a leap of faith. She held her breath and

turned the key.

Chapter 8

The light was so bright it blinded Felicity and there was a loud rushing sound in her

ears like she was standing near a jet engine. She felt disoriented as if the world were on fast

forward, sensations of things and people racing by her. Rubbing the corners of her eyes while

they adjusted, the stained glass behind the bar came into focus and she blinked a few times

while the rest of the pub solidified around her. She looked up just in time to see Malin

coming towards her with a smile. At least, it appeared to be Malin. The face was exactly the

same, the chef whites similar but he was wearing an unusual scarf and a tall white hat that

looked a bit silly on him. She glanced into the mirrored panel next to the stained glass to

confirm that she still looked like herself. She did, but she was wearing unfamiliar clothing.

She reached down to feel the brick-red, cotton skirt and examined the long sleeves of the

simple old-fashioned dress. The black lace cuffs matched the lace panel around her middle

and at the hem. She looked around at the familiar room but it wasn’t the same cosy place with

cushions, blankets, and oriental carpets. The floor was strewn with straw over hard wood

planks. The tables and chairs were crudely made and there were paintings of people and

scenes she couldn’t quite make out where the blackboard menus had once been.

She felt a hand grab her arm. Looking up quickly, she was relieved to see that it WAS

Malin...wasn’t it? Before she could open her mouth to say anything he whispered, “Are you

ready? Let’s get out of here before Mum comes back and puts us to work!”

She didn’t know what else to do but nod as he led her to the back door and out into a

little lane lined with pear trees. Felicity gasped in surprise at the change. The back door

usually led onto a small alley that was blocked at one end by the back-garden fence and

bordered by terraced houses. The small path in front of her stretched from the road fronting

the pub to an orchard on the right. Felicity studied the expanse of trees, surprised to see so

much open space in London and felt inclined to explore in that direction. Instead Malin

turned her left towards the road and pulled her along at a run. They didn’t stop for a few

streets until they were out of sight of the building. Felicity was short of breath and dizzy. She

leaned on a fence to steady herself and wheezed, “Malin, where are we going? What’s going

on?”

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The guy she had thought was Malin looked at her and smiled quizzically, “Who is this

Malin fellow? Should I be jealous? It’s only me, Reginald Torrence, at your service.” With

that he mock-bowed and offered Felicity his hand.

Reginald, Reggie! Delia’s voice banged in her head like a gong. She took his hand; it

felt exactly the same as Malin’s. She examined his arm and noted that it still had scars

although they were in different locations. Glancing up at his face, she looked into his eyes to

determine any differences but it was doing her no good. He seemed to be the exact same

person, he FELT like the same person. She appeared to still be in London, but it must have

been London a very long time ago. The streets weren’t paved, there were no cars, the city felt

more open, and dozens of other little differences made it clear she was no longer where she

had been.

Her silence was concerning him, and he took her other hand in his, “Seriously,

Felicity, are you poorly? If you’re not feeling well we can go back, but I thought we might

spend an afternoon by the river before we have to work.”

Felicity’s stomach fluttered at his touch and obvious concern for her well-being. She

didn’t understand what was happening but she decided to play her part. For him, nothing was

out of the ordinary, she was who he expected her to be.

With her internal conflict temporarily resolved, she squeezed his hands and smiled,

“No, I’m fine, let’s go.”

He grinned, “Brilliant, then I have somewhere special to show you.”

They walked hand-in-hand past terraced houses and orchards, until she could see the

sunshine beaming off the river up ahead. They were passing a hedge that stretched all the

way to the bank when Reggie stopped. Felicity questioned him with a look. He looked back

conspiratorially and said, “Behold! Your beloved hath uncovered a land of mystery and

wonder.” As he said this, he reached through an irregularity in the hedge and pulled a few

vines aside in the middle. There appeared to be solid wood behind the greenery. He opened a

latch and one large section of hedge came away from the rest as it swung forward leaving

barely enough space for a person to squeeze through the gap. Malin winked and motioned her

through. Felicity ducked down and bent sideways through the portal, minding her larger than

average skirt didn’t get caught in the brush.

When she stood up, she inhaled sharply at what lay in front of her. To the right were

the remains of an old palace set on expansive, overgrown lawns, abandoned for long enough

that the roof had partially caved in and greenery covered most of the exterior. The grounds

were as decayed as the house with statuary, some broken, some intact, all covered in vines

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and the remnants of a garden that had been left to its own devices. Rose bushes had run

amuck, flowerbeds once contained to certain areas spilled over their boundaries creating a

beautiful chaos. She clapped her hands together like a little girl, and turned to Reggie with

her face lit up in happiness. He leaned down and whispered, “What do you think?”

His breathe against her neck sent shivers down her spine, “What is this place?”

“It’s the Margrave’s palace. I think a queen used to live here but it has been this way

for as long as I can remember.”

“But how did you know about it? It’s surrounded by walls and fully grown trees on all

sides.”

“The caretaker has been coming into the pub for years and he used to tell me stories

about the place. I talked him into taking me through it one day when I was small after he’d

had a few pints too many. He’s about a hundred years old now and never seems to mind me

sneaking in for solitude.”

“Well if there’s no danger of getting in trouble.” Felicity looked at him slyly and then

made a run for the dilapidated stone structure by the river. Reggie called after her in protest

but easily caught up, his strides much longer than hers at any speed. He caught her around the

waist and together they fell to the ground under a droopy tree, a potential cousin to the

weeping willow. The grass was soft and caught their fall mostly, but Felicity hit her head, this

time on a tree root.

“Ouch!”.

“Aw, poor you, let me see.”

Reggie grabbed her chin and turned her head to the side, separating her curls to feel

underneath.

“I think you’ll live!” he announced, without letting go of her chin.

She choked down the laughter bubbling up inside her as it occurred to her that no

matter which reality she was in, her go-to location seemed to be on the ground somewhere,

post head injury, being courted by the gangly chef to whom she was wildly attracted. Felicity

was about to turn her head back to face him when she felt his lips on her neck, and then her

jaw. Her brain ceased to function when he reached her lips and she felt like she had lava

running through her veins. Nothing mattered to her then. Being with him felt like falling

backwards into the ocean, warm and enveloping, gentle but insistent.

Reggie pulled away reluctantly. He looked longingly into her eyes just as Malin had

the night before. Felicity felt uncertainty replace the full feeling she’d had moments ago. He

sighed, gave her a closing kiss on the nose, and pulled them both up to sitting positions. “I

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brought supplies!” He fished a small flask of water and a packet of sandwiches out of the

over-sized white coat. She turned her gaze to the river which looked much prettier without

concrete lining both banks. There were tiny islands of mud with the tide was out and various

birds hopped from one to the other pulling edible items out of the mud. She was silently

plotting how to find out who she was in this place when the perfect question came to her.

“Reggie,” she started, flashing him her tried and true ‘you-desperately-want-to-give-

me-what-I-want’ smile.

“Ohhhhh, no. I know that look, what do you want, Fe?”

Crap, he knows me better than I expected. Forging ahead she asked, “Sweetie, can

you tell me the story of us and how we met?”

Reggie rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead, “Whatever you wish, mademoiselle. I

know how you love a good story, and ours may be simple, but its beauty is in its truth.”

Ha, winner! Felicity took part of a sandwich and leaned in, elbows on her crossed

legs, while Reggie spoke.

“Once upon a time there was a sad, pathetic lout working in the dark, dirty kitchen of

a pub. The lout’s mum and dad had taken ownership of the brand-new pub some years before.

It had been built over the remains of an old pear orchard and every part of it glimmered with

new fittings, fixtures, and the promises of a better life. Oh, ah, except the kitchen, of course…

dank, dismal place...”

Reggie winked and carried on. “Life was moving right along until one-day business

had grown enough to need a barmaid. It just so happened that a lovely, charming, if not a bit

annoying, girl came in at the right time and was hired instantly by Mum.”

At the part about her being annoying, Felicity sniffed in protest and threw a bit of

bread at his face, but did not dare interrupt the story. Reggie caught the bread and continued,

seamlessly.

“At first this girl failed to notice the sad, pathetic lout but after a bit of a bath or three

and a combing of the hair, he swept her off her feet and they lived happily ever after. Well,

it’s been a few months. So far so good, eh?”

Felicity was chuffed to have gotten that much information.

“So I work at the pub?”

Reggie laughed, “If you call what you do ‘work’.”

Felicity gave him a murderous look. Clearly, different names aside, Reggie and Malin

were kindred spirits.

“And your Mum and Dad manage the place?”

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His face clouded over a bit, “No, only Mum, you know that. How hard did you hit

your head? Are you sure you’re feeling well?”

Sensing she was pressing her luck, she decided to leave the questions be for now. She

was pretty smart; she could glean more information as time went on. Not one to panic unless

given a good reason to do so, Felicity had faith that she’d figure it out eventually. Reggie felt

as much like home to her as Malin and for now, that was enough.

* * * * *

They spent the next few hours exploring the remains of the small theatre, the gardens,

and the exterior of the palace. Reggie was worried about safety issues and would not let her

enter the fallen-down structure. From what she could see through broken windows, the

interior of the palace was still beautiful, maybe even more so in its decaying state. They

flirted and laughed but spent much of the time in silence, enjoying their own thoughts in one

another’s company. Before she knew it, it was time to go and they were quickly back out on

the street, headed back towards the pub.

“Before we get back, have you given any thought to my proposal?” Malin asked

tentatively.

Legitimately lacking any idea of what he was talking about, she asked, “What

proposal is that?”

“Felicity! I’m serious. We both know Mum would not be pleased with us seeing each

other but she is a sound sleeper and you could easily sneak upstairs after closing to stay with

me.”

Oh, that kind of proposal. She pondered her response for a moment. “I don’t know,

Reggie. If she’s not going to like us being together then I’m not sure I should risk my job.

What if she catches me?”

He squeezed her hand a little tighter, “Aren’t I worth the risk?”

“I suppose that remains to be seen!”

For that comment, she got a little pretend swat in the general direction of her behind.

“Why is it that she would be displeased with the idea?” Felicity seized the opportunity

to glean more information.

“I only know she wouldn’t like it. Ever since my father disappeared she has been

different than she used to be. Angry and sad, mostly. She hasn’t always been how you’ve

known her. She used to smile.”

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Felicity said kindly, “I’m sure she did.” Now she was nervous about meeting the

woman who was her employer in this place.

Sensing he was uncomfortable, Felicity tried changing topics by announcing how the

afternoon had made her sleepy.

“Why don’t you have a little sleep in my room? I’ll come get you when it’s time for

you to come downstairs.”

Felicity was exhausted and decided to take him up on his offer. They made their way

through the back door of the pub and turned to go up the stairs to the rooms above. Felicity

glanced through the bar into the front room and felt her heart stop momentarily as she looked

right into the cold amber eyes from her dream. The woman to whom they belonged to had

untidy grey hair piled onto the top of her head. She wore a deep emerald dress, similar in

style to Felicity’s own. The warmth that had built up inside Felicity from the sun and the

afternoon with Reggie went right out of her and she shivered. It was only a moment,

however, because Reggie tugged on her hand and they continued up past the second landing

to the very top.

“My room is here to the right.”

Felicity noticed that the room on the left was locked on the outside with a heavy lock

that seemed out of place for an interior door.

“Who stays in that room?” Felicity motioned to the locked door with a nod.

“No one, that’s Mum’s storage room.”

“OOOOO, what’s in there?”

“I have no idea; I’ve never been inside.”

“WHAT? Aren’t you curious?”

“Not particularly, no. I’m sure it’s rubbish. Old, rotten rubbish too, by the smell of it

sometimes.”

Boys! There is something seriously wrong with them. Felicity was practically

salivating at the thought of what might be behind a door needing that kind of lock. At the

moment, though, she was more tired than anything.

Reggie’s room was a nice size, simply decorated, with nothing more than a few

candlesticks and books on a chest of drawers, and a bed with an embroidered white coverlet.

One look at the bed and Felicity’s exhaustion tripled in weight.

“Is it going to be a problem that I’m up here?”

“No, not at all. I’ll tell Mum you’re a little fatigued but didn’t want to chance being

late by going home to rest. That’ll make her happy.”

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The second Felicity set her head down on the pillow she was asleep. The last memory

she had was feeling Reggie’s lips brush her forehead.

Chapter 9

Felicity awoke to the phone ringing on the pillow by her head. Seeing that it was Deb

she answered in the most awake voice she could muster.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, Felicity, I was wondering if you could come in a little early tonight? The boys

finally got the keys to the other pub and are having some people in to celebrate.”

“That’s great for them! What time do you need me?”

“Well, you’re rota’d on for 5 p.m. and it’s already 3 p.m., so as soon as possible?”

“It’s 3 p.m.!? Yeah of course, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Holy crap! Where has the whole day gone? Her mind was blank of anything after

saying goodnight to Malin and trying to remember how she had arrived home was like trying

to walk through knee-deep mud. She must have slept deeply to feel so heavy and sluggish. It

was taking all her focus to get ready, and she was having to take deep breathes to combat

waves of dizziness.

She never did get a chance to catch up as Deb put her to work the second she walked

through the door. It was a busy day and they were also tasked with setting up the big table by

the window for Nero, the Ponce, and their families. Kit, a willowy girl with a pixie cut, could

calmly and quietly take on the mass of instructions sent her way by Deb and Felicity despite

being new. With her help the night was going smoothly.

Malin was actually being calm and supportive for once. He was also being very flirty.

Brushing by her purposefully when he was getting a soda, grabbing her hand and squeezing it

when they passed each other in the hall, pretending to lean in for a kiss on his way up the

cellar stairs – that last one made Felicity’s stomach turn somersaults. Focus! She knew Ponce

would be judging her, Deb, and Kit on how well they served the group. Every step needed to

be followed to the letter, the courses timed out well, drinks filled and re-filled at regular

intervals.

Dinner service went off without a hitch. The three girls were relieved when the

bosses’ guests were settled in with after dinner drinks and the other diners were past dessert.

Leanna had come in with a group of uni friends and Deb had given Felicity the go-ahead to

sit down with them for a drink while they waited for closing time. Felicity was enjoying the

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conversation with her sister and friends but was keeping an eye on Nero’s table and Deb and

Kit in case she was needed. She was curious when she saw Nero get up and walk behind the

bar where Deb was instructing Kit on closing duties. Nero motioned Deb over to the till and

seemed to be going over someone’s tab. Suddenly she heard his tone sharpen and the till

drawer slam closed, harder than necessary. He pulled a receipt from the printer and stormed

to the back hallway. Deborah was visibly upset and motioned to the Ponce and his sister,

Cara, to follow. There was clearly an argument happening with voices raised loud enough for

Felicity to hear snippets of it at the front of the pub. She had no interest in getting involved

but decided it was probably best if she wasn’t seen hanging out with her friends. She made

quick apologies to the group and hopped up to help Kit.

“What’s going on?” she asked Kit, worried.

“I don’t know. Something about Cara’s tab and drinks not being paid for.”

Felicity hated conflict and she was worried about her friend as Deb’s face was

streaked with tears. Cara’s voice rose above the rest and Felicity saw her throw something

into Nero’s face. She immediately went to the table to grab her boyfriend and bag and she

stomped out the front door. The argument had been loud enough that the other customers had

noticed and Felicity went around smoothing things over as best as she could. Whenever Nero

was in a temper the mood was oppressive and Felicity wished herself as small as possible to

avoid ever being on the receiving end of his rage.

The Ponce looked stone-eyed when he got back to the table and it was only moments

later that the party broke up with Nero heading upstairs and the family and friends heading

home. The minute they were both out of sight Felicity went to check on Deb. She found her

in the alleyway with Malin who was hugging her tightly, trying to get her to calm down.

Felicity touched her back, “Hey, are you okay?”

She let go of Malin and gave Felicity a quick hug. Pointing above their heads to the

open windows of Nero’s flat, she shook her head, walked into the pub and to the back room.

Felicity grabbed a few napkins on her way by and sat them in front of Deb who was wiping

her eyes with her sleeves at the very back table by the garden doors.

“Can I get you anything?” Felicity asked.

“No, I’m fine thanks. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“It’s going to take us ages to get out of here, I should be helping close.”

“Don’t worry, Kit’s working the closing list and I’ll be staying to help anyway. What

happened?”

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“I’m not sure I even know. Nero came up and asked me to show him Cara’s tab, so I

did. Then he started going through the drinks on it claiming that they had had others that they

weren’t on there. He kept asking me what I was trying to pull by voiding drinks off a tab and

accusing Cara and me of stealing. I tried to explain that I did void the first round because

Ponce had said he was going to take care of them so they went on his tab. And I voided

another because Cara came in and covered a shift last week when we were short. I thought

that was my prerogative as a manager. But he wasn’t convinced and wouldn’t listen. I’m still

in my trial period as manager and this does not look good for me!”

“I’m so sorry, Deb! I don’t understand. Cara helped start the business and the Ponce is

an owner as well, how could he accuse any of you of stealing?”

“I’m so upset, Felicity. I love this place so much. I would NEVER do anything to hurt

the business.”

“I think they know that, of course they do, or they never would have asked you to

manage. It seems like they get unreasonable, especially Nero, after a few too many drinks.”

“Still, I have seen too many people walk out of this place on bad terms and I don’t

want to be one of them.”

Felicity didn’t know what she could say to help her friend. She was nervous about

what it all might mean for the future. She squeezed Deb’s hand in support and got up to help

finish the close as it was all she could do.

“Why don’t you head home? I’ll make sure everything gets finished here.”

Deb looked at her gratefully.

“Are you sure? Thank you so much. I know you’ve had a long week as well.”

“It’s fine, really. Get some rest and try not to dwell on it too much. Things will look

better in the morning.”

Both girls got up from the table and gave each other a hug. Deb went and got her

things together while Felicity went back behind the bar to close the till and walk Kit through

the final steps. They were readying to leave when Malin, finished in the kitchen, came out to

the bar.

“Everything okay out here?”

Felicity was beyond tired and took the question as a little sign that he cared enough to

check on her. Kit was on her way out and waved goodbye to the two of them. Felicity waved

back and thanked her for her hard work.

She turned back to Malin, “Yes, I’m fine. Just worried about Deb.”

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“She’ll be alright. Everyone knows Nero has a temper. I’m sure everything will be

back to normal in the morning. At any rate, I’m beat. Have a good night.”

Goodnight! The last thing she remembered was that he had gone upstairs…and she

had…she had what?

The missing memories did not arrive to the forefront of her brain in a timely manner,

Felicity simply said, “Night, Malin. Sweet dreams.” Things were jumbled in her brain, a

confusing mixture of dreams and memories, the snippets overlapping in a way that made her

uncertain of what was real and what was imagined. She decided it was probably best not to

have any more wine for the foreseeable future and try to get as much rest as possible. She

was obviously very run down. Second-term papers would be due soon, papers she had yet to

begin, and there was more than enough to worry about at the current pub with new staff

coming in and old staff transferring to the newly acquired business. She and Leanna would

need a different place to live soon…the present stresses took over and she readied to depart.

She had just retrieved her things and sat them down on the hallway counter when the

lights flickered. Pulling back the curtain to reach the electrical panel, a snap of static

electricity painfully zapped her and she jerked her smarting hand away, cursing quietly. The

jolt dislodged the blockage in her mind and the image of the door came back to her vividly.

Her chest tightened. She looked down at her keys, unsure of what she was looking for. Only

three. She used her elbow to move the drape away from the wall. Plain panelling, one ugly

electrical panel. Check. She shook her head as if to discard the inexplicable vision from its

place, dropped the curtain, and walked towards the back door. Right then there was a heavy

thud against the back door and Felicity’s heart jumped out of her chest. That’s it, I’m going to

lose it!

She seriously considered running upstairs to get Malin but stubbornness took hold and

she refused to act like a frightened child. More than likely it was a neighbourhood cat and she

needed to get home. She steeled herself against what she hoped was nothing, swinging the

door open quickly to scare off whatever it might have been. Nothing. She peered out the door

and looked to the left and right. Again, nothing. More than a little relieved she stepped into

the night laughing at her silliness, glad no one was around to see her paranoia.

She was about to lock the door when a voice in the dark said, “Where do you think

you are going?” Felicity whirled around to see Friend Fox calmly staring at her from the

shadows by the lean-to.

“I see my warning has not been heeded.”

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Felicity stared, unsure of what to say. The missing hours poured back into her

conscious mind like water from a jug, so fast she felt nauseous. Reggie and the beautiful

afternoon on the river now felt as real to her as the door handle she was still holding onto as if

for dear life. The fox’s ears twitched and his tails whipped up and around as he waited for a

response. She sighed and gave herself a somewhat ironic self-diagnosis of insanity. She

decided to play coy.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean. I did have a strange dream last night about

another Malin and another pub.”

The fox snorted in an undignified fashion, “And are you dreaming now, girl?”

“I’m talking to a fox, you tell me,” she retorted. She secretly dug her nails painfully

into her palms to be sure.

“I am disappointed. You of all people should know better. Magic is in everything,

hidden in plain sight.”

Felicity couldn’t argue with him because in her heart she agreed. All stories have

some degree of truth to them and she had filled her childhood with tale after tale, feeling

recognition, not surprise, at each foray into a magical other place. Her deepest, most secret

belief was that she too could find one of those places herself if only she believed strongly

enough. Although, frankly, at that moment, Felicity wished she was in bed as she felt another

headache coming on. “I don’t understand what I’m supposed to be doing?”

Friend Fox responded, “The door is always there if you wish it to be.”

“What does that mean?”

“There are no answers, only questions.”

“Thanks, that’s marvellously unhelpful.”

Friend Fox got up from his sitting position and started to trot away.

“What? You’re just going to leave?”

He turned to look at her and said, “Like any heroine you must seek the questions, and

as you live the questions the path will open before you, as it always has. Do you think it’s

mere coincidence that you ended up in this place? Find that which you seek.”

With his tails swirling behind him, her own personal Yoda was swallowed by the

darkness, his final words floating around her head in a vaporous cloud of letters.

Felicity watched him go and felt a renewed energy despite the long day. Creeping

back into the pub, she set her things on the floor by the office door. She stood on the landing

and pulled back the curtain, keys squeezed tightly into her palm. She closed her eyes and

pictured the door, remembering the grain and design of the wood and the bevel of the glass in

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the small window. She blindly reached towards the wall and felt her hand connect with the

pear knob.

Chapter 10

Felicity found herself standing alone on a straw-covered floor, the front room of the

pub lit by a single candle burning low behind the bar. She smelled the remnants of the fires in

the fireplaces and heard only the silence of the empty space. She felt a rush to have the place

to herself, certain now that this was not a dream, and quietly crept up the stairs to the rooms

above. She had only one thing in mind – the locked door and what might lay behind it. She

looked around the landing and noted the closed door to Malin’s room. For a moment, she

thought about knocking to see if he was in, but her destination was on the left and the need to

know what was in there pushed out all else. She was surprised to see that the heavy lock at

the top was no longer fastened. Cautiously she walked over it and pushed the handle inwards.

The room was much larger than she had expected and instead of musty crates and stacks of

belongings, she found a sitting room of sorts. Felicity stepped through the door and decided

to make as thorough a search as possible.

Shelves lined the walls and on them an assortment of knickknacks and large leather

books. She started on the left and peered at the dozens of volumes. Running her fingers over

spines titled in languages she did not know, she stopped to examine the tiny skeletons of

unidentifiable creatures that dotted the shelves. There were dolls with body parts roughly

sewn together and various grimacing faces carved out of stone. A porcelain rose with a life-

like eyeball at the centre of the petals was almost pretty considering the rest of the macabre

collection. She paused at a figurine of a lady in a flowered dress that appeared to be broken. It

took a moment to see that the missing head had not been broken off but was instead

suspended by the hair from one of its own hands. Felicity shuddered and told herself she

should not linger too long.

There was a lone pencil sketch on the wall next to the shelves. She moved closer to

see that it was a drawing of the palace she and Reggie visited, but the house and stone

structure by the river were intact. The picture was labelled Brandenburgh House but did not

show a year. She wondered what ties Reggie’s mother had to the place for it to be framed and

on the wall in her private study. She memorised the name, vowing to research it later.

A long, thin table to the rear of the room had on it an assortment of plants and herbs

that seemed like they could be from another planet; one with red leaves, long yellow tongues

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extending from them, another with tall green stems attached to what looked like larger

versions of the poisoned berries she had been warned not to eat as a child. Felicity decided it

was probably better to look and not touch as there seemed to be a low growl coming from one

of them. The plant table was framed by lush, purple, velvet curtains although there did not

appear to be a window in the wall. The room would have been inviting with its thick Persian

carpets, the blazing corner fireplace, and two large cushioned armchairs if not for the décor.

Felicity gazed past the plant table to a painting above the fireplace. A handsome man with a

smile that was more of a sneer stared down at her and Felicity could not look away; there was

something so familiar about his face. It took her a moment to realise that the eyes were exact

copies of Reggie’s. Malin’s. Whichever! She pulled her eyes away and wrinkled her nose at

the stench coming from the heavy black pot suspended above the fireplace. The room had

smelled sour when she opened the door but the smell had tripled in strength now that she was

close. Clearly whatever Reggie had spoken of stinking was coming directly from that pot.

Movement caught Felicity’s eye as she moved past the fireplace towards an

elaborately designed aviary, perched upon a marble pedestal table. The silver bars were

holding together pieces of glass, giving it the appearance of an oversized, birdcage-shaped

jewellery box. She moved closer to see past the fire reflected in the glass, her nose almost

touching it to see what was inside. Two beautiful, long-tailed birds were holding onto the

same silver perch. Their feathers were a rainbow of colours and they pulsed with light,

reminding Felicity of a beating heart. She was mesmerised by their loveliness and reached up

to touch the cage. In the blink of an eye, one of the birds flew off the perch and launched

itself towards her. There was a thud and she jumped back; her hand flew to her mouth to

stifle a shriek. She could hear footsteps moving swiftly up the stairs and panicked, having no

desire to be caught in someone else’s private space.

She spun around in a circle looking for anywhere that might serve as a decent hiding

place. Her peripheral vision saw what she had not noticed – next to the birdcage was a door

set cleverly into the panelling of the room. She desperately hoped it was a closet, or better yet

an exit, but with the footsteps now on the landing she had little choice but to try. She pushed

the crack in the panelling, swiftly moving into darkness, shutting it silently behind her. There

was an inexplicable pop and the outline of the door faded the moment it was shut, taking with

it the tiny cracks of light from the other room. Without them, Felicity now found herself in

darkness so black she couldn’t see her hand as it touched her own face. She quietly waited for

her eyes to adjust to see something, anything, but after a few minutes the beginnings of sheer

terror were starting to overtake her.

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Willing herself to breath calmly and think, she slowly moved to the left of where the

door had been. Carefully patting the walls and kicking out in front of her before taking a step,

she made her way to one corner, and then another. She’d counted her steps and as best as she

could figure, she was now directly across from where she had entered. The walls had been

smooth all the way around so it startled her to feel a raised pattern under her fingers as they

searched the next section of wall. Her hands moved up what felt like the same vine and leaf

pattern as her key. It went up in a strip as high as she could reach and then down to the floor

and over to the side like it was framing something. She moved along the bottom strip and

then up when it turned. It was about door-size, she figured, and decided to push in the middle.

She shoved against the wall with all the strength she could muster. Nothing happened. She

tried again, willing it to open. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes, and she banged the

wall with her fist, more terrified than she had ever been in her life at the thought of being

trapped forever in this dark place. Exhausted she leaned her head against the coolness of the

wall, readying herself to move forward.

As the tears rolled down her face, her mind finally clocked that the wall under her

forehead was not smooth either. She quickly reached up to discern the pattern, recognising

the shape of letters under her palm. Wiping her eyes with her sleeve, she found the start of the

letters and began outlining the shapes of the words. “Seek. That. Which. You. Find.” Well

that’s stupid. Why would you seek something you’ve already found? Felicities irritation was a

welcome change to the despair she’d been feeling a moment ago. She moved her palm over

the entire carving and found that each word was on a separate, bordered square of equal size.

They were set into a larger square, with three additional wooden squares with the shape of a

fox on them and one square missing a block entirely. Foxes! If I ever see another fox it’ll

be… She interrupted her own internal rant when it dawned on her that it was a Mystic Square

puzzle like she had spent hours solving as a child. All she had to do was slide them into the

correct order.

It took some time to get the old blocks moving, but she swiftly set her mind to solving

it. Three foxes into three corners with the free space, and the words in the order Friend Fox

had said them in. It was considerably more difficult than she remembered, not being able to

see the actual board, but slowly she was making progress. She had accurately guessed that it

might be some kind of locking mechanism, as each time she set in a piece correctly she heard

a clicking noise behind the wall. She hurriedly slid the last few pieces into place and as she

did so, she heard what sounded like bolts being slid away. The panel swung forward a few

inches. Searing pain shot through her head as her eyes took in too much light all at once and

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she snapped them shut. She shoved her foot into the opening while she waited for the pain to

subside, certain that whatever was ahead of her would be a welcome improvement.

Felicity cautiously opened her eyes and found them adjusted, pushing her way

through the opening. The tiny room she found herself in was dimly lit by two candlesticks on

either side of two gigantic double doors. They had the same vine and leaf pattern as her key

and were so intricately carved it must have taken years to complete. The words ‘La Trappe’

were carved into the middle of each door. Fantastic, another door. I am never getting out of

here. She had already concluded that she was somewhere far beyond the confines of the pub.

Fed up, and over being afraid, she had no choice other than to forge ahead. There were no

handles that she could see so she gave them a good push inward. They swung forward easily,

much to her relief, and she found an identical set in front of her, much to her dismay. The

previous set closed behind her with a bang and she felt yet another few years of her life slip

away from the unexpected noise. Rolling her eyes, she quickly pushed on these to find a third

set of identical doors.

She’d stopped counting after the sixth set of doors musing if somehow she might have

died and this was her own personal purgatory. She made a quick wish that she’d find the end

and pushed through again. Thankfully this set of doors was the last as it opened into what

appeared to be a narrow hallway; the walls in the same pattern as the door. She could go left

or right and quickly chose the left for no good reason, quickly running into a dead end that

made her go right, and back in the other direction around a corner. She stopped and looked

back around the corner to where she had started. What does this remind me of? The place

unfamiliar but the feeling, the turns, the lack of logical sense…a labyrinth! An obsession of

hers and Leanna’s, they had been in garden mazes all over Europe from Austria to England.

With the exception that this was indoors and the hedges were wooden reproductions of

foliage the feeling was exactly the same. How wonderful! She planted her left hand firmly on

the left wall as she had been taught to do to reach an exit and carried on, intent on finding

whatever was in the centre.

After quite a long time, however, the initial fascination and joy at simply being out of

the dark were wearing off and Felicity was ready to be done. The silence stopped being

silence and Felicity could swear she heard whispering. She stood very still, breath held to

listen. It was definitely whispering but from which direction she could not tell. She moved

forward quickly and quietly as the sound of murmuring voices was starting to rise in volume.

A wind had picked up from somewhere, which seemed impossible in the enclosed space;

unintelligible voices rushed past her ears as if ghosts were trying to impart her their secrets.

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Her heart was hammering in her chest and she was going as fast as she could without running

around each corner.

The voices started to shriek like banshees, the sound piercing her eardrums, setting

her teeth on edge. She wanted to run even faster but instead she stopped. Letting the

frustration and fear turn to anger, she screamed into the wind, “I want to go home!” She had

had enough of the dark, the screaming, and the never-ending maze. As if obeying her direct

command, the room went still. Felicity, grateful for the silence, sank to the floor in relief,

exhausted. She considered her options while catching her breath. There didn’t appear to be

many. Before she had time to consider her next move, the floor opened beneath her and she

fell.

* * * * *

Felicity awoke to the smell of coffee and the sounds of someone puttering about in the

kitchen. ‘SO tired’ was all she could think, yawning and stretching. She swung her feet onto

the floor to find the sharp edge of something with the pad of her foot. She yelled and cursed,

grabbing at the injured appendage. She looked down to identify the offending object. An odd

looking wooden box sat on the floor, undamaged, unlike her foot. She picked it up and went

limping to the kitchen to find Leanna who immediately stuck a cup of coffee in her hand and

told her to sit.

“It’s Boat Race Day!”

Oh, right, Felicity had forgotten! The pub was closed today for the bank holiday so

everyone was off and free to attend the annual Oxford and Cambridge rowing race and the

festivities afterwards in Hammersmith. It was also Malin’s birthday. Leanna and Felicity

were meeting everyone at the river to watch the race. She brightened at the thought of

spending the whole day with Malin and her friends. Maybe outside of work he would relax.

“What’s that?” asked Leanna, motioning towards the box Felicity had set on the

counter.

“It’s not yours? I was about to yell at you for leaving it on the floor to stab me.”

“How nice. No, you slept with the thing last night. Weirdo…so how could it be mine?

Where did it come from?”

Felicity didn’t know what to say. How could she explain where the box came from

when she herself did not know? It obviously came with her after the awful experience in the

dark room and the labyrinth, but how and why?

“It was a gift, I guess.”

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Leanna looked at her strangely, opting not to ask any more questions. The girls

examined it, turning it over and over looking for the opening.

“Maybe it’s just a block of wood?” Felicity suggested.

Leanna stuck her tongue out, “Maybe your head is too. There’s obviously something

in it, it’s rattling.”

“Rude!”

“Oh!” Leanna exclaimed. “It’s a puzzle box. Don’t you remember? We read a story

about one as a kid.”

“Yes, I remember, but I’ve never seen one before.”

The box was covered in geometric wood pattern of different grains and colours. There

were no clear openings, no key hole, and every inch was smooth to the touch.

“If this is like the one in the book then you have to slide panels, I think,” Felicity

mused, as she pressed on different parts of the box.

“Unless you want to be later than we already are, it will have to wait.”

Felicity glanced at the clock and set the box down, disappointed but in agreement.

The girls hurried to get ready and walked up Fulham Palace Road to the agreed meeting spot

near Hammersmith Bridge. It was a beautiful day as most of the clouds had disappeared on

their walk to the river. The sun glinted off the water in such a way that Felicity felt a sense of

déjà vu. The bridge and riverside were jam-packed with people and it took a few phone calls

to Deborah for the girls to find the group clustered near one of the boats on the waterfront.

Malin looked sharp in a pink button-down shirt and jeans. He was ignoring her

presence; Felicity was dismayed. She couldn’t help but stay in close proximity, however,

always conscious of his location no matter what else she might be doing. She and Leanna

ordered beers outside of The Old Ship pub and stood watching some tattooed and scantily-

dressed men doing the New Zealand Haka in Furnival Gardens. Some fully-clothed novices

had joined in and the whole thing was entertaining for the girls who had not seen such a thing

before. As everyone carried on with the beer drinking, the shenanigans continued as Malin

was challenged to various feats of contortion by a stranger. By the time it was all over, most

people were covered in grass from somersaulting across the lawn and everyone was in high

spirits.

They wandered into a tent full of picnic tables and a live band, ready for some

dancing and singing along. It was as if the entire city was having a party with everyone

invited. One of the Haka dancers even made an appearance, toting a giant conch shell to play

along with the band. As the music grew louder and faster, Malin, Deborah, and Maree joined

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others on top of the picnic tables dancing and doing jigs. Suddenly, there was a crash as one

of the overloaded tables collapsed under the weight. Deciding that it was probably a good

time to go, the group moved the party to one of their flats in Barons Court. Leanna, feeling

tipsy and nauseous, decided to head home but Felicity was nowhere near done and followed

the group through the darkening streets.

After a quick stop at the offy, they all found themselves in a reception room

dominated by two over-sized speakers, the music so loud Felicity felt like it was inside of her

making her heart beat. Malin, as the birthday boy, had drunk twice as much as everyone else

in the form of shots from well-wishers and was passed out in one of the bedrooms. Felicity

had kept her distance but was approached by one of the other boys after he was discovered.

“Are you Felicity?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

“Malin is really out of it. All he keeps doing is saying your name and how much he

likes you. It might be a good idea to check on him.”

Felicity was pleased but puzzled and went in to see if he needed anything, like maybe

a glass of water, which she took with her. She found him lying face down on one of the beds.

She sat down next to him, stroked his hair, and quietly asked if he wanted anything. His eyes

opened and he looked at her coldly and pointedly said, “I don’t want anything from you.”

Felicity’s concern turned to anger. She dumped the glass of water right in his face and said,

“Apologies, I mistakenly thought differently!” She stalked back to the kitchen where the rest

of her friends were getting ready to move the party onward.

“Hey, are you coming with?” Deb asked, as she put on her coat. Felicity glanced back

to see Malin up and about laughing with one of the other guys and said definitively, “Yes,

let’s get out of here.”

The group split into two with Deb, Felicity, Kit, and some of the others heading off to

another house party at the Ponce’s. Maree, Malin, and the remaining staff decided to hit Elk

Bar in Fulham. Her head was fuzzy from more than a few drinks and it gave the Ponce’s

party the feeling of being on a merry-go-round. Laughter filled the air as different pairs of

people, including a shirtless Ponce with Deborah in tow, danced a waltz around the kitchen.

Felicity walked outside to find Wolfy sitting on a patio chair with two beers in front of him.

She sat her own drink down and joined him in the opposite chair.

He smiled, “What’s going on, dahling?”

“Dahling? How fah-bulous you are sometimes, Wolfy. I needed a minute away from

all of the chaos.”

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“Me too. It’s nice and quiet out here in the dark,” he paused and then said with a

smirk, “So…anything new going on, anything you want to tell me?”

It took her a second to see what he was getting at and then she laughed as she realised

he was pushing for information about Malin.

“I have no idea what you mean!” she said, coyly, taking a drink to hide her own

smirk.

“Oh, come on! Everyone can see there’s something going on between you and Malin.

What’s the story?”

Felicity thought about it for a minute and decided that it might be a good idea to get a

guy’s opinion on the matter. She explained everything that had transpired, the night they had

stayed after in the pub, as well as all the flirting and standoffish behaviour of the past few

weeks. Wolfy sat for a minute and then responded.

“Well it’s obvious that he is interested in you, but sometimes with guys, especially

those his age, they can want something but not be sure what to do about it once they know

it’s a possibility.”

“I think that’s called ‘he’s just not that into you,’” Felicity said dryly.

Wolfy laughed, “Like I said, it’s obvious to most of us that there’s something there,

but I’ve heard him say in the past that he’s not that good at relationships. And there was

someone before you that didn’t go well.”

“Oh? What happened with that?”

“She was a LAMDA girl that used to come in all the time. They hooked up after the

Halloween party last year. After that she would still come in quite a lot, sitting at the bar

waiting for him to be done working. They had something for a few months but eventually she

got tired of dealing with his ‘I don’t care’ attitude and was done with him.”

“I definitely understand her frustration. He’s so blasé about everything, even the pub,

which he claims to love so much. I don’t understand what’s holding him back.”

“I don’t know, but if he does feel that he doesn’t do relationships well you can either

have patience and drag him through the worry or you can let it be.”

The pull she felt to Malin was so compelling she wasn’t sure she could do the latter

even though she sensed it was probably the wisest choice. They both dropped the

conversation as Deb, and her flatmate, Kimmy, walked outside to join them.

Deb said, “Hullo, people! It’s getting late, time to make a move.”

Felicity glanced at her phone. 2 a.m. stared back at her from the screen. “Wow, I had

no idea it was so late! It’s time I headed off as well.”

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Coats were put on and bags gathered as everyone said goodbye. The Ponce walked

Felicity, Deb, and Kimmy to the end of the street. The girls gave him hugs at Fulham Palace

Road, the two girls were heading north to Shepherd’s Bush and Felicity heading south

towards Bishop’s Park.

“Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night at ours?” Deb asked Felicity. “We

live at the Doll’s House, the most amazing little place, you have to see it someday!”

Felicity considered it for a moment and then decided she’d rather wake up in her own

bed after such a long day. She thanked them both for the offer and set off down the dark

street towards home. She strolled through the night reflecting on the fun of the day,

marvelling in delight at the new life she’d finally found.

She was halfway home when she spotted another person leaving the offy on the other

side of the road. She laughed to herself to see that it was Malin. She struggled internally for a

moment. Should she keep on walking or should she go over and check on him? It had been

hours since the party had split up, so she took the randomness of being in the same place at

the same time as a sign and walked across the road.

“How on earth did you escape your birthday party committee? I imagined they

wouldn’t let you out of their sight?”

Malin looked up from the bags he was fumbling with, showing no surprise at seeing

Felicity, “I told them I needed some sleep then snuck out to get supplies. How was your

night?”

“It was fun, we hung out at the Ponce’s house for a while. Deb and Kim invited me to

the Doll’s House but I decided to head home.”

“Yeah, their place is cool. I’ve spent a few nights on the couch there. So you’re

heading home?”

“Yes, I think so, heading back to your room?”

“Unless there’s somewhere else I should be going?”

Felicity looked at him, her heart pounding, certain about what he meant. As natural as

breathing she forged ahead into the moment, throwing timidity to the wind.

“We could go back to my place, but I share a room with my sister so that only leaves

the sofa bed in the living room. Can’t we go back to yours?”

“I don’t really let anyone come up to my room. Sorry, that’s just how it is.”

Felicity laughed and said a bit sarcastically, “Alright, well if you think the sofa bed is

the better option.”

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They held hands and turned down towards Bishop’s Park with the night to

themselves. The fifteen-minute walk felt like hours as they laughed and talked. The

conversation meandered through the day’s events and on to their families. Her hand felt small

in his. She felt his grip tighten and pull her to a stop right before the end of her street. He

swung her around to face him, his eyes unreadable as always. Felicity couldn’t look away

until he leaned in, her eyes closing as his lips touched hers. She was breathless and flying

high when he finally pulled away. He took her hand and they turned onto her street, silent as

they reached her front door. She motioned for him to be quiet as they went inside, past the

room she shared and into the reception room at the end of the hall. She closed the door

behind them.

* * * * *

Felicity checked the time on her phone with the one eye that wasn’t too blurry to see

out of. One p.m. Yikes! She would have to accept not being up first thing in the morning

these days. You can’t dwell mainly in the night and be an early bird too. She rolled over to

see Malin still fast asleep. When he felt her stir he reached over to pull her close.

“Morning,” he said, hoarsely.

“Morning. Water?”

“Sure, didn’t have much yesterday.”

Felicity wrapped herself in a blanket and got up to fill two glasses in the kitchen and

brought one to him. He sat up only long enough to drink it in its entirety. Felicity snuggled

back up against him, still sleepy. He wasn’t having any of it though and they continued the

activities of the night before with light streaming through the blinds.

Chapter 11

Afterwards, they talked about their pasts for some time, joking and laughing at silly

stories from before they knew each other, but as the day wore on Felicity knew she needed to

get up and start getting ready to meet some friends. She loathed having to leave the cocoon of

their own little world and was more than a little apprehensive as to how things would be once

they did. The ease between then was starting to evaporate as he gathered his things in

preparation to go.

Felicity ventured a comment, “So…I guess you meant what you said the other night:

that you still want me?”

Malin paused and said, quietly, “Yeah.”

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She didn’t know what else to say so she went on weakly, “We have tomorrow off too,

are you doing anything? I don’t think I’ll be doing much.”

“I was going to go see my mum for my birthday and I still might. But Deb and Kim

wanted to do a cake or something for me so I might go up to Shepherds Bush after.”

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you at work in a day or two.”

“Yeah sure, I’ll be around.” He hugged her goodbye and left. Felicity was tired and

feeling gross in general so she tidied up in a hurry and jumped in the shower.

With a towel holding her hair and one wrapped around the rest of her she ventured

into the bedroom to greet her dogs and face the music with Leanna, if she was home. She

was, and sitting on the bed with her computer on her lap.

Leanna looked up, expressionless, “You had a late night.”

“Yes,” she said tentatively, “Malin just left.”

“I heard. Thanks to him I haven’t had coffee yet.”

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t expect him to come over or for him to stay so long. I did

text to let you know.”

Leanna sighed and closed the computer, “Yes, I’m glad you did or it could have been

awkward. It’s fine. So…I guess I missed a lot after I left yesterday?”

Felicity gave her a detailed re-telling of the night, happy to relive it for a moment.

“Sounds like fun! I wish I hadn’t been feeling ill. Well, he came home with you, now

what?”

Felicity had been pulling on clothes while they chatted but sat on the bed to answer, “I

don’t know. The way he was last night…it was so easy, like we fit together. There were no

walls and no reservations. And I was so hopeful when I woke up this morning that things

would be moving forward. After all he was the one who was giving ME time to decide.

That’s what he said, ‘I understand you need to be sure of something before you get into it.’

Well, I am sure. I don’t understand why he’s backed away. He didn’t even kiss me goodbye

when he left this morning.”

The tiredness and frustration were taking over and Felicity felt anything but okay.

Leanna looked at her sympathetically, “Maybe things will be fine when you see him next.

Are you going to see him before the pub opens again?”

“Probably not. He appears to have other plans and no intention of including me in any

of them.”

Felicity looked at the time, she was going to be late to meet her friends in Balham if

she didn’t hurry up. The desire to be social faded. In its place was the desperate need to tell

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her sister everything that had taken place. Even though they were three years apart, the role of

caretaker and giver-of-wisdom wasn’t always Felicity’s as the eldest as Leanna had wisdom

well beyond her years. She and Leanna were close, with no secrets, and Felicity needed to

hear some of that wisdom right now.

“Would you want to go for a walk in our park for a bit?”

“I thought you were going to go meet your friends. Like, right now?”

“I’ll text them my apologies. I really need to tell you some things, although I’m not

quite sure how to do it.”

Leanna looked concerned as she shut her computer off, “Of course we can go. Is this

about that box? You have me worried now.”

“The box! I completely forgot. I’ll bring it with us.”

The girls ran around the flat getting ready. Their favourite park was near Wimbledon

which would take some time to get to, so they packed a small bag of supplies and set off. The

walk down pretty and peaceful Dorset road was traversed in silence as the two girls were pre-

occupied with their own thoughts. They arrived at the side entrance of Morden Hall Park

which they had discovered and fallen in love with during one of their many wanderings. The

stone bridges, rose garden, and ancient trees looked like something right out of Mary

Poppins. It was their haven from anxiety and the best place to share a multitude of secrets and

ideas.

They settled in to a favoured spot by the large leafy tree that overshadowed the River

Wandle. Felicity dangled her feet in the cool water, swirling it around and around with her

toes. It took a minute for her to get started with her story but once she started recounting it all

to Leanna in detail it came out in a flood: Friend Fox, Malin, Reggie, Anne, the key...all of it.

After she finished, they stayed silent for some time. Felicity played around with the

mysterious box while she waited for Leann to process. Felicity wasn’t worried what Leanna

might think, her sister understood her better than anyone else. Leanna eventually let out a

long sigh and a big laugh, “Well, that’s a story, isn’t it? I can’t believe you’re just now telling

me.”

“I’m not sure why I didn’t. Probably because I wasn’t sure whether I should believe

it all myself. It was like one of those dreams I have, where I wake up eventually but when

I’m there I am certain it’s real.”

“You have always had the strangest dreams. But I think that might be why this is

happening.”

“Yeah, you might need to expand on that thought,” Felicity was confused.

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“Maybe not WHY this is happening, exactly. I think I mean that you have always

been more open to different energy. The dreams you have had that were premonitions, the

sensitivity to other people’s emotions…I think that if anything like this were going to happen

to anyone it would be you.”

“I’m not sure I’m following, but I’m grateful you at least seem to believe me.”

Leanna laughed, “You might be crazy, but not in any way that would lend to

hallucinations. I think that in all the stories we read growing up must have some element of

truth, right? The fairy tales come from somewhere. I believe that you have had the

experiences you have had and will continue to because it is what’s meant to happen and

you’re meant to learn something. It seems to me the only thing you can do is follow this path

wherever it leads.”

Felicity considered her sister’s words carefully as the afternoon sun slipped away.

They gathered their things and walked over to the little playground hidden in the middle of

the park. They were delighted to find it empty of small people and spent the twilight taking

turns on the zip line, laughing and playing like they used to back home which sometimes felt

like two lifetimes ago in a land far away.

* * * * *

Despite the pub being closed, it was still Monday, and as Felicity had nothing else to

do she headed to the pub to get some of her administrative and cleaning work done. In all

honesty, even if she had other things she should be doing, she couldn’t be away from the

place. She could not deny her addiction to the joy she felt simply by heading in that direction.

It was a beautiful Spring day and that only made her street seem even more charming. At the

end of it, right before the left turn onto Munster Road there was an Italian deli on the one

side and a flower shop on the other. No matter which side of the street she chose Felicity was

treated to delightful smells. On the right, she was guaranteed the delicious billowing aromas

of bread and pasta from the Italian place, and on the left side, the sweet perfumed scent of

flowers from the open windows and doors of the flower shop. More often than not she would

purposefully start on the right-hand side and then cross to the left to maximise the experience.

On this particular day, Felicity did not notice the sunshine, the smells, or anything, really, she

was so far inside of her own mind. Her thoughts kept shifting between Friend Fox, Malin,

Reggie, and the other mysterious things in her life. The door was the foremost thing on her

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mind today after her talk with Leanna. She wanted to have time to explore its purpose. It

must have a purpose, she reasoned, or it would not be available to her.

The pub was silent as a tomb when she arrived with everyone out and about in the

lovely weather. Felicity rushed through the stock take, the ordering, cleaning the beer lines;

all the typical Monday tasks. Deborah would normally have been with her but Felicity had

told her to take the day off as she wanted to test her own knowledge of the last few weeks of

training, and she didn’t want to be disturbed. After quickly consuming the sandwich and soda

she had brought with her, she retrieved her keys from her bag and stood in front of the curtain

at the bottom of the stairs. She could not feel the silver key on the key ring yet but she knew

it would probably appear if the door did. She closed her eyes after she drew back the curtain,

thinking of the door and what lay on the other side, clearing her mind before the worry about

what she might be facing on the other side took over. Breathing deeply, she sent away the

trepidation as best she could. The need to feel the pear-shaped handle under her palm took

over. A spot at the base of her skull started to tingle and she felt giddy; this time when she

opened her eyes the door was there, the key in hand.

Chapter 12

Noise erupted around her and she tried to orient herself to the familiar but unfamiliar

surroundings. So many voices! And a band! She had never arrived with the pub full of

people. She panicked for a minute, worried someone had seen her, thankful to find herself

standing on the landing in nearly the same spot she had been before going through the door.

“What are you doing standing around?” It was Reggie, sounding exasperated.

Felicity turned around to see him leaning half out of the kitchen, looking at her.

“I’m sorry. What do you need?”

“You know what I need! I need you to take this food out before the hungry masses

start rioting.”

Felicity moved rapidly towards him and saw two bowls of something unrecognisable

on the counter.

“The two blokes in the corner by the door…and really, do hurry before Mum gets

cross.”

Felicity nodded at him, grabbed the bowls and hoped she would know where to take

them when she got to the bar. Whether on this side of reality or the other, the packed bar

made it nearly impossible to get through without crawling over people. She saw two men

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who were indeed in the corner by the door, looking around expectantly until they saw her

with food in hand. She smiled and dropped off the bowls, heading directly to the bar to serve

customers. Felicity found that if she didn’t think too much her hands knew what to do,

finding the necessary glasses and drinks to fill orders in a pub she had never worked in

before, at least not in her conscious knowledge. She wasn’t even confused by the different-

looking money. Some latent memory had taken over and was working through her. She was

about to consider these things further when she heard a familiar voice behind her, calling her

name with the endearing Irish accent she had come to know and love.

“Jimmy! What in the world are you doing here?”

“It has been awhile…haven’t seen you in donkey’s years!”

Felicity meant something entirely different than how he took it, as this Jimmy seemed

to be the exact one that frequented her own pub four days a week on average.

“Guinness, Love. Not that I have to tell you.”

She sat the drink in front of him.

“Thank you, lass! Lookin’ lovely tonight…and after one or two of these, you’ll be

even more so!”

Felicity laughed politely at the joke he had made with her dozens of times. She

couldn’t understand any of this, how it was happening or why, but she had seen enough in her

life to know that some things had to be experienced first and explained afterwards. The night

was winding down with only a few patrons scattered around including Jimmy at the corner

where he always stood. She turned around from wiping the counters and was startled to see

the old woman from her dreams standing behind her with a smile.

“Good evening my dear girl, how are we tonight?”

“We are fine, and you?” she said, carefully, not entirely sure who this woman was.

“Oh, splendid, splendid. Busy night, was it? Excellent news! I expect you’ll be

heading home soon?”

Felicity stammered in surprise at the new pleasant demeanour, “Yes, yes, of course, if

you don’t need me any longer.”

“My precious child, the kitchen lads will do the cleaning up as always. Just make sure

things are tidy before you depart. I’m sure my son will be happy to see you home.” She

winked and turned away.

“Thank you, I will.” Felicity was confused. My son? The frightening woman haunting

her dreams was Reggie’s mother? The same mother he was certain would not approve of

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their relationship? She decided to take a chance with this seemingly good mood. “Miss, erm,

Madame…”

“Please dear, I’ve told you before to call me Anne. No need for Mrs. Torrence any

more, thank you.”

“Alright, Anne. I wanted to speak with you about Reggie. I’m sorry if us being…

together, is a problem. I don’t want it to affect my place here.”

She chuckled in a way that made Felicity shudder. “Oh poppet, why ever would I

mind? Young love is such a beautiful thing. Make sure he’s good to you, so many of them

aren’t.”

With a girlish giggle, Anne departed. Felicity didn’t care if that woman was Reggie’s

mother, she gave her the creeps, especially after seeing the bizarre things in that study. She

turned around to say goodnight to Jimmy who was draining the last of his glass.

“It was nice to see you, sir, as usual.”

The jolly look had left his face and he looked at her with foreboding.

“All sugar on the surface, that one, but underneath ‘tis cold and dead. Mind yourself,

lass, she’s not one to cross.”

“I’m getting that idea very clearly. Thank you for the warning.”

“Wasn’t that long ago her sweetness was real and she could warm a room simply by

being present in it.”

Felicity was surprised that her cold employer could ever have been the complete

opposite, “What happened, then, to make her change?”

“Her husband, the boy’s father,” with this statement the old man went silent. Felicity

pestered him to continue, wondering if he enjoyed keeping her in suspense.

“Well?! I need to know what happened.”

Jimmy gave her a long look and sighed, “Alright. It’s all over and done with so don’t

see what harm it could do. I might, however, need a little somethin’ to wet me whistle…”

He winked. Felicity jumped up and got him a half-pint, hopeful he would keep

moving the story along.

“Keep in mind it’s all rumours, mainly, but a couple years back ‘twas the whole

family who moved in to take over the pub. Mister and Missus and the boy. Now, the husband

was a decent looking fellow and Missus was taken with him. Over the moon, so to speak,

since the weddin’. He was a cruel man; the way he’d speak to the pair of them. Honey from

his tongue one minute and brimstone the next. She’d apologise and try to soothe his temper;

fawning and simpering. He’d leave and go into town after a row and be gone, sometimes for

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days at a time. She was in a right state then. In the end, he’d return and she’d be so grateful

he did, despite the other women the gossips claimed he was with. This continued for some

time until one day he showed up after one of his absences with a pretty little fair-haired girl.

He claimed she was a distant relative that had shown up in the city needing work. He even

gave her a big room upstairs all to herself. Missus was all too happy to oblige him this whim,

but after a time it became clear to everyone what was really going on.”

He nodded his head in affirmation, leaned back on his bar stool, and looked with

dismay at his empty glass. Felicity, who had been engrossed in the story, was disappointed

that he had stopped. She hurriedly filled another glass, hopeful that it would encourage him to

carry on. He noticed her movement and put up a weak protest.

“I can’t be having another. Long past time t’ go.”

“Oh sure you can. You can’t leave me in suspense.” She gave him her sweetest smile

and willed him to stay.

“You’re right, o’course. Can’t leave a story half begun.”

He took a long drink from the fresh pint, leaned in close to Felicity, and started again

with relish at her rapt attention.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that the other dalliances had been humiliating enough

but to have them carrying on right under your own roof…and with the boy coming of age as

well. Why it’s more than any sane person could bear, but bear it she did for nigh on three

years. I think she spent the first two in denial, simply grateful that he was home more

frequently.”

Felicity couldn’t help herself, “Well, what happened to them? They’re obviously not

here now.”

“Hold yer horses, I’m not Russian,” he winked at her and laughed at his own joke.

Felicity laughed too, and rolled her eyes.

He started again in an even lower voice, causing Felicity to lean in closer, “The last

year was bad t’ say the least. Talk of the neighbourhood the shouting and carryin’ on at all

hours. Patrons dwindled down to only the old-timers as missus was always crying. Downright

unsettling having a sobbin’ woman serving your pint. Then one day, they were gone. Mister

and the girl. Up and vanished or so it seemed as no one saw them go. Strange goings-on

really.”

“I guess so. But it’s obvious Mr. Torrence finally ran off with his lover, isn’t it?”

“That’s the general assumption, but it has always struck me as odd.” The old man

rubbed his eyebrow with his forefinger in contemplation.

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“Why is that?” Felicity was confused.

“You would t’ink Missus would have been even more hysterical with his departure

but she became real calm and almost cheerful. Didn’t sit right.”

Jimmy downed the last of his pint and sighed, “Aye, well. As I said, ‘tis all in the past

really. And on that note, I must be leavin’.”

He put on his long coat to depart, gave Felicity an odd little salute and turned to go.

Felicity was still leaning on the bar, contemplating all the new information when the strangest

thing caught her eye. She could have sworn as Jimmy breezed out the door that peeking out

underneath the hem of his duster were multiple bushy tails swishing around each other. She

shook her head, concluded it was probably part of his coat, and walked back to the kitchen to

find Reggie.

She peeked her head through the doorway to see him and the servant boy cleaning up.

The pub only did a daily special for dinner and possibly sandwiches for weekend lunch so the

kitchen was small but sufficient. He smiled when he looked up and saw her watching him.

“Hello, beautiful! Apologies for being cross before, I had just burnt my hand and was

feeling less than charitable. How was your night?”

Felicity was amused at his apology and answered, “Good, informative.” Malin, had

yelled much worse and never managed to say he was sorry. She knew he wasn’t the same

person that she had spent the night with two nights ago, but she was ecstatic to be seeing him

anyway. They seemed so very similar except for one acted more affectionate towards her

than the other. He walked over and took her hand. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Are we still

on for tonight? There’s something I want to show you in our garden.”

She was intrigued and nodded her assent. Not that she was going to say no in any

instance. She waited while Reggie went upstairs to fetch a few things. He returned with his

jacket, a small satchel, and a coat she took to be hers as he handed it to her to put on. They

walked out the back door into the cool night hair and fingers intertwined, and set off to the

door in the wall.

“I was so happy you decided to stay with me the night before last, Felicity. It was

wonderful, exactly as I had been imagining it.” He turned red and went silent. She didn’t

quite understand. She had been with Malin, not Reggie.

“I stayed over?” she asked, legitimately confused. He seemed to take this as a joke

and laughed in relief.

“Oh, is that how you’re going to be about it?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure what you meant.”

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“Right, not very memorable is what you’re trying to say.”

“No not at all! I mean, yes! Very memorable.” She tugged on his hand to stop him

walking. “It was wonderful of course.”

He pulled her close and leaned down to kiss her. It could have been two nights ago on

Fulham Palace Road, at 2 a.m. in another world, so similar was the feel of him. His hand, his

kiss. Can the same person exist in two different places? The same, and yet so very different.

She was bemused that she might very well be the answer to her own question, as she seemed

to be both here and there - wherever here and there were.

The air felt different to Felicity than on her normal walk home after the pub closed. It

felt lighter and smelled sweeter, almost scented, it seemed so fresh. She and Reggie reached

the hedge before long and went through it the same as before. The abandoned space looked

smaller in the moonlight with the wildness of the flower beds and rose bushes giving it a

more closed-in feeling. She wasn’t sure why but Reggie put a finger in front of his lips and

she complied with the request for silence. He took her arm and guided her past the centre

fountain and the ruins of the mansion, towards an ornate metal gate on the far side of the

house she had not noticed before. Considering how overtaken it was by ivy and brush she

wasn’t surprised it had remained hidden on her previous visit. The metal was twisted into

curls and the shape of a large pear was at the peak of each gate. Reggie pushed it forward

slightly, getting it to move enough for them both to slip through.

This part of the garden was wildly overgrown, but seemed purposefully arranged that

way. With time, it had grown into tunnels of foliage with a wisteria ceiling over part of the

path. Felicity pulled her skirt tight to her as it kept snagging on branches. The flowers were

all in bloom here as if it were mid-summer and not early spring. They could see extremely

well for it being so late and she noticed it was a full moon. As she moved her view from the

sky, Felicity jumped as a face appeared on her right side, peering at her from behind the ivy

that clothed everything not already covered in flowers. She breathed a sigh of relief to see the

beautiful face was stone. There were statues hidden everywhere: lovely visages of both men

and women, a phoenix, a chimera, a mermaid on a fountain that had not been functional for

an age, and others unrecognisable from decay were scattered around each corner.

After a few minutes of winding through the dense flora the path widened and went

straight for a few metres. Two steps up and through the first of a series of stone archways that

stretched to either side they went, entering the centre of the gated garden. Felicity could see a

white marble pool in the clearing, shallow and circular. There were six columns rising from

the water, also arranged in a circle, each one with a different pattern of vines and flowers

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carved along the length. The columns were supporting a stained-glass dome that sparkled

even in the dim light. Reggie tugged her hand, once again motioning for her to be silent.

Instead of moving towards the fountain he led her to the left, off the path and into the bushes.

The only tidy part of the garden seemed to be in the area immediately surrounding the

fountain. Reggie motioned to a stone bench partially free from ivy that had a perfect view of

the clearing.

She was dying to know why they were here but was afraid to open her mouth as he

seemed adamant she keep silent. She reined in her curiosity, content to be with him. He got

up after a few minutes, took something out of his satchel, and moved forward to place it on a

platform in the middle of the pool. He wiped his hands on his coat as he sat back down and

put his arm around her. She couldn’t help herself, she had to know something about this

strange excursion.

“What was that?” she whispered into his ear.

He turned into her ear, “Saffron cakes, they love them, and a token is expected.”

“Who?”

He smiled and turned his attention back to the empty clearing. From somewhere off in

the distance the wind brought with it the faint sound of music. It was a simple tune with notes

from only one instrument, perhaps a flute or delicate bells, it shifted and changed from

moment to moment. The melody increased in depth but not in volume and it filled the air

around them. Felicity saw flickers of light coming from the greenery surrounding the fountain

like tiny stars exploding and then recharging to expand once more. Then out from every

corner they came, two dozen foxes of every size, some with multiple tails strode out into the

open. Felicity’s eyes went wide and she looked at Reggie. He was focused on the scene

unfolding before them, as if entranced. She looked back and watched as they waltzed around

each other, rolling and tumbling with their long tails curling behind them like dancers’

ribbons. They danced and frolicked in time with the music. A high-pitched cry from outside

the circle pierced the air. The foxes stopped what they were doing and sat at attention all

around the pool. From the direction Felicity and Reggie had come from, the largest of the

foxes appeared, regal in appearance. With the grey fur around his neck and nine tails, Felicity

recognised her Friend Fox right away.

He walked slowly through the group and leapt onto the small platform in the middle

of the fountain. Friend Fox sniffed the saffron cakes left by Reggie. Satisfied, he bowed to

where they were hidden. He then looked directly at Felicity, their eyes meeting across the

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divide. She now understood that he somehow had the ability to move through her world and

this one.

Friend Fox let out a few loud yips, the kind heard throughout London in the dead of

night. The others began to sway on their hind-quarters as Friend Fox’s yips shifted into a

tuneless song. From the bushes the little starbursts flew outward and Felicity could see, as

each ceased their blinking, that they were tiny-winged human figures. They were no longer

blinking but light was still radiating from them in various colours. They were so tiny it was

hard to make out any other features. She was delighted with the magical meeting of fairy and

fox. Their wings kept them hovering just above the foxes and everything in the clearing went

still as Friend Fox too, ceased his song. The wind music faded to silence; anticipation grew

with each passing moment of silence. Friend Fox rose and followed his own tail in a circle,

three times in each direction. He stopped, tails covering him, and the he unfurled, seating

himself again and all those in the clearing bowed low to him.

As quickly as it had gone the music began again in earnest as if coming from the

flowers themselves. The fairies and foxes began twirling around each other in a beautiful

tangle of colour and light as a glittery substance exploded from their wings. The foxes yipped

as they rolled through the clouds of colour, each becoming saturated with the substance until

they all glistened various hues. The fairies retreated to the bushes becoming starbursts once

again and the multi-colour foxes sat up and smashed their tails together. As they did so, the

dust from their fur hovered in the air, and was picked up again by the swishing. As the fairy

dust stuck and became concentrated onto their tails, flames burst from the contact of each

smack. The small fires did not dissipate but instead floated to the front of each fox, burning

and crackling, a white light growing within the centre of each flame. The flames burnt in on

themselves and disappeared, dropping a shiny, white pearl to the ground in front of each fox.

The pearls were quickly flicked into the air, disappearing into the wispy fur. The foxes

became still and sat, once again, at attention, facing Friend Fox. Friend Fox bowed low,

howled one long howl, and as quickly as they had appeared, the foxes dispersed back into the

shadows. One by one the fairy starbursts also disappeared into the night and the clearing grew

still.

Felicity and Reggie waited until Friend Fox took Reggie’s parcel of cakes in his teeth

and departed. Felicity was afraid to move; the secret fox ceremony had left her spellbound.

She hadn’t realised she had been squeezing Reggie’s hand so hard until he took it from hers

and gave it a shake to return feeling to it. Finally, she whispered, “What was that exactly?”

He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Come on, let’s walk to the river.”

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They wound their way out of the garden, back the way they had come. The place felt

emptier than when they had arrived, the wind silent of music, the moon the only light. They

exited the gate and took a dozen steps before Felicity turned around wanting a final glimpse

of the iron pears. Maybe the light had shifted but they were no longer visible, a wall of

greenery the only thing in view. They carried on to the river until they were under the willow

tree gazing at the inky water together. Felicity relaxed into Reggie’s chest, his arms held her

close.

“So…”

“So, what?” Reggie responded, evasively.

She reached back and squeezed his waist hard. He jerked and laughed.

“SO, what was that? How’d you know about it? Is that the first time that’s happened?

Why saffron cakes?”

“So many questions!”

“I think considering what we just saw, it’s only natural. Start at the beginning,” she

commanded, sweetly, melting into his chest.

“Remember I told you about the caretaker who used to come into the pub all the

time?” Felicity nodded. “He knows everything there is to know about this place. When I was

twelve he snuck me out of the pub one night after Mum and everyone else had gone to sleep.

We walked down here and he showed me the pear gates. The funny thing was I had never

seen them before in all of the times I had come here exploring.”

“That would explain a few things.”

He playfully put his hand over her mouth, “Don’t interrupt! Do you want to hear this

or not?”

She pulled his hand away and motioned for him to continue.

“As I was saying, I had never seen the gates before but at first I assumed they’d been

so covered in ivy I had missed them and he had recently cleared them off. Either way, he led

me through them and sat me on the bench after presenting saffron cakes and the scene

unfolded very much like what we just saw. Afterwards, I had many questions, exactly like

you. The saffron cakes are an offering to the eldest fox, they love them, although I’m not sure

why. He said that they were necessary for humans to be able to stay and watch. He explained

how the fairies helped the foxes to renew their life source every year, completing the ritual to

advance their powers and lifespan. I went with him once after that, and then from time to

time when I could I’d come on my own.”

“And the pearls?”

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“Per Jimmy, they contain the source of each foxes’ power. They grow extra tails to

show their age, every tale for every hundred years or something like that, but their pearls are

essential.”

Bells reverberated in Felicity’s brain, “Jimmy? My Jimmy? Surely not.”

“I can’t imagine they’re the same person. I haven’t seen the caretaker in some time,

although it’s possible he could be around somewhere still. Jimmy was a small, white-haired

Irish man. He was quite the personality, even before all of the Guinness.”

“No, that sounds like MY Jimmy! He was in the pub tonight in fact.”

“It’s possible it’s the same one. Shame I missed him.”

Felicity encouraged him to continue. “Carry on about the foxes! What else do you

know?”

“There’s not much really. It’s said that foxes can change into people after their first

ceremony, or even know what is taking place a thousand miles away.”

Felicity was fascinated by this information, “But what happens now?”

“What do you mean? We saw what there is to see.”

“Where do the fairies come from? Have you ever tried to follow one? What do the

foxes do after they leave the garden? How come it only happens once a year? Can you get to

the garden at other times?”

Reggie laughed loudly at all of her questions, “So curious! Don’t you know what they

say about curiosity?”

“Have you not questioned any of this?”

“No, I suppose I took it for what it was and left it at that.”

This lack of inquisitiveness was getting to Felicity. How is the world so simple for

some people, even when the fantastic is happening right in front of them? She sighed.

Sensing her frustration, he answered ran his fingers over her shoulders and neck

unconsciously aware that it was distracting and was calming her anxiety. He answered all her

questions at once.

“I don’t know where they come from. I have no idea what the foxes do after, I don’t

often see them outside of this garden. It only happens once a year because that’s how often

they do it. No, I’ve looked but the gates only appear on the night of the ritual and that’s it.

However, I have tried to follow one of the fairies once.”

“OH? What happened?”

He stayed silent for a few moments and said, “I don’t really know. I remember

following a few of the fairies through the garden, I stayed back far enough to not scare them

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away. It felt like I followed them for hours through the same kind of windy paths. I must be

wrong though, exaggerating it in my memory because this property isn’t big enough for that.

None of it makes sense now that I think about it.”

“Why is that?”

“Well because I remember very vividly waking up in Jimmy’s arms as he carried me

home. He told me that I had passed out in the garden, after playing all afternoon. I didn’t

think much more about it, assuming the part I remembered from before was just my

imagination.”

“It could have been, but I doubt it, considering.”

“I think it must have been, because right before I woke up on the way home, I

remember the fairies I was following went through a doorway. I hurried to catch up, afraid I

might lose them, but as I reached the doorway something stopped me. It could have been

myself because what I saw beyond startled me.”

“What did you see?”

“I could swear I saw a wide-open field, with a great ocean off in the distance that

glittered as if it were full of stars. And thousands of fairy lights blinking, lighting up other

bigger creatures I couldn’t quite make out. It was beautiful, and I wanted nothing more than

to go exploring.” He sighed deeply into Felicity’s hair. “But that’s it, then I was on my way

home before I knew it.”

“You’ve never tried to go again?”

“No. Something told me I shouldn’t and to be honest, after a while I stopped coming

to see the foxes. Life was difficult after that with Mum and Dad. It’s been years until I

brought you tonight.”

“Why did you?”

“I thought it might be something you could experience with me. You are a bit magical

yourself you know?”

Felicity laughed at the thought. It was all too much to consider now, she felt like she

was in sensory overload. She only wanted to relax for a moment and let everything she had

seen flow through her like water. Trying to grasp little pieces for examination while it floated

by was making her tired.

Chapter 13

“Felicity! Don’t you ever take a day off?”

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The sound of Deb’s voice startled Felicity and she dropped the keys onto the landing.

She was exactly where she had been right before going through the door.

“What day is it?”

“What do you mean ‘what day is it’? It’s Monday, silly, and we’re closed all day

today.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s six o’clock! Have you been ingesting bleach from the beer lines again?”

They both laughed. It was only two hours past the time she had gone through the

door. She felt that relaxed, foggy feeling like when waking up from a good nap.

“Since you’re here, I wanted to let you know something. I’ve made the decision to

step down from being the trial manager.”

Felicity was alert in an instant, “WHAT? What on earth for?”

“After the incident with Nero and the bar tab the other night I decided it would be

best. I have seen so many people leave this place on bad terms and I don’t want to be one of

them. I know that if I stay in this role it will happen eventually.”

“I don’t know what to say. I’m a little upset as I was only training to be the assistant

manager because you asked me to.”

Deb’s face broke into a giant smile, “About that…I’ve already spoken with the Ponce

and Nero. I told them how I felt and they understand. I also told them they should hire you

instead.”

Felicity was speechless.

“You’re welcome!” she said with a cheeky smile. “I think you would be amazing at it.

I have other things I want to do, an acting career maybe, but other things. You are in love

with this place, and maybe this will mean that they can sponsor you to stay here in England.”

Felicity felt like crying, she was sad, happy, and excited all at the same time. She

finally found words, “I still don’t know what to say. Are you sure this is what you want to

do?”

“Yes, absolutely. Nothing would make me happier than to be your assistant instead.”

“I seriously can’t thank you enough. I’m going to need awhile for this to sink in.”

“You have a little time. I think they’re going to try and speak with you about it next

week. I know you’re going to be fantastic.”

Felicity threw her arms around Deb, happier than she had ever been. This meant that

she might be able to stay, not just here at the pub, but in England.

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She released Deb after a good long while and tried to quell her excitement, asking,

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“I forgot my jacket here and I’m going to need it for tonight. Malin’s coming over for

his birthday cake and then we’re going out.”

At the mention of Malin’s name, Felicity’s insides lurched.

“Oh, right, well, have fun!”

“Why don’t you come? You pitched in for the iPod we’re giving him as well as Maree

and Kimmy so you should be there when we give it to him.”

Felicity would have liked nothing more, but had a feeling that if he’d wanted her there

he would have invited her.

“Thanks, but I have so much to do for uni once I’m done here and I really should get

home.”

“Alright, don’t work too hard, you need a little fun sometimes.”

“Don’t worry, I have fun!”

Deborah didn’t look too convinced. However, she left it be, grabbed her jacket from

under the stairs and left Felicity alone. She didn’t have anything left to do so she grabbed her

things with the intention of walking quickly home to relay the day’s events to Leanna. While

on her way she wrestled with herself about texting Malin, convinced he would reach out if he

wanted. The side that didn’t listen to reason won over. She composed the text three times

before settling on ‘Hey, hope you had a good birthday weekend. Do you want to do

something when we have a night off next week?’ She felt the pressure of needing to reach out

to him release when she hit send.

Three hours later after a decent dinner and conversation with Leanna where she got to

tell her the exciting news, he still had not replied. She knew then that he probably wouldn’t as

he always had his phone. She felt upset with herself that she had given in to the urge. The

non-response only made her feel worse.

* * * * *

Felicity strolled down Munster Road revelling in the sunshine. It finally felt like

Spring and there’s nothing like a little sunshine to improve one’s outlook on life. It had been

a week since Malin’s birthday and tonight the pub staff were all off at 9 p.m. for the annual

staff party. She smiled and said hello to the off-license guy she saw every day, breezed into

the Budgens for a snack and flowers for the pub. She selected the same ones as always, one

bunch each of purple and white chrysanthemum. Smiling and chatting with the sales person,

she bought an extra pack of cigarettes and set off towards the new pub where she would find

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Nero and the Ponce. They finally had the keys and were working on their big plans for the

place. She slid through the side door, avoiding plastic sheeting and debris, to find the two

men in car mechanic jumpsuits hard at work drinking cups of tea.

                She smiled at the Ponce, “You both certainly look the part! Best drink that tea like

you mean it, it keeps England standing.”

                “Hey, I’ll have none of your lip! This is our first break since 5 a.m.! We made it to

the car boot sale and back, met with the contractors, and started tearing stuff down.”

Felicity plopped onto one of the red leather couches not covered in plastic and plaster board

to observe what was usually The Ponce and Nero Show. One made a joke and the other

laughed. Weird voices and inside jokes went back and forth no matter who was observing.

These two had an incredible bromance of which no one else could be a part. Even Maree,

who was always wherever they were, was an outsider. Felicity saw her over in what used to

be the room for the pool table and would soon be a walk-up fine delicatessen. They smiled

and waved to each other.

“Don’t you have our pub to run?” The Ponce’s blue eyes stared at her sternly.

Felicity laughed, “I don’t have to be in for two more hours.”

                “Perfect! Grand tour then, milady?”

                Felicity rolled her eyes, but there was no denying his easy charm.

“Yes, of course, tell me the big plan.”

The pub was probably five times as large as the one she oversaw. The main area was a

big open space with a rectangular bar in the centre. The best feature was the stained-glass

ceiling that covered a large area between the front and back doors. The Ponce took Felicity

behind the bar and through the door into a small back area that had the men’s toilets, a door

to the kitchen, and a stairway up to a bedroom and the Ladies toilets.

                “Right now we are renting out the rooms upstairs but eventually this will be the

lobby for the hotel we’re going to open.”

                “Wow! A hotel?’’

                “Yes it’s on the expansion list. It’s always been Nero’s dream to have a boutique

hotel in Southwest London. All we need is a little time. Maybe someday you’ll work your

way up to manage both places, eh?” He gave her a wink. “By the way, can you hang around

on Tuesday night after the pub closes? Nero and I have something to talk with you about.”

“Yikes, am I in trouble?”

“Yes, for being a pain in the ass.”

Felicity stuck her tongue out at him and agreed to meet them then.

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                They walked back through the kitchen door which opened onto a hallway. The

actual kitchen was straight ahead, but they turned right moving down the hall where she

could see a small office where the camera monitors were going to be and noticed the stairs up

to the floors above were in the same room. Felicity followed Ponce through the cellar door

that was on the left before the office.

                “Wait until you see this place. If you got lost down there we might never find you

again.”

                “Should I bring some bread crumbs then?”

                The Ponce laughed and kept on descending down the stairs. He was right, the

downstairs was a maze and if the lights went out you’d be in a lot of trouble. There was stuff

everywhere. Dishes, decorations, junk of all kinds.

                “Watch your step, the previous occupants left us some fun items: including quite a

bit of alcohol. We’re having a soft-opening party next weekend to get rid of it and to raise a

little money. Tell everyone you know and we’ll have the password for you at the end of the

week.”

                “Password?”

                “Right, to get in the door.”

                Felicity only raised her eyebrows in response. He walked her through the massive

cellar with one large refrigerated area, two ice machines, and more space than they knew

what to do with.

                “Now this is the coolest part!” the Ponce bent down to look through a low wall.

                “Can’t wait,” Felicity said, wryly. She bent down to see what he was looking at,

“Oh, cool! What is it?”

It looked a dungeon of sorts with only bits of light streaming through the wooden slats

at the far end.

“We think it was for additional storage but it looks awesome!”

“It does! Very medieval.”

“Maybe we’ll keep some pigs or something down here. If so, this is where Malin will

be sleeping right along with them if he doesn’t straighten up.”

Felicity snorted, “Ha, hilarious! What’s he done now?”

She knew there had been a grumble through both pubs that Malin was in trouble with

the Ponce and Nero only one day into living at the new pub.

“He got caught smoking in his room. Not only did we have representatives from the

brewery walking through the building today so it stank, but there’s the danger of burning

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down what has been a significant investment for us. He could fall asleep with a lit cigarette

and that would be it for us.”

“I get it. Sometimes he’s a little stupid.”

The Ponce guided her back through the cellar and up the stairs to the security room.

They took another staircase heading up the stairs and over the main bar area. One big

bathroom and three bedrooms on the smaller floor were to be rented out. They walked up one

more flight of stairs to a hallway with vibrant orange carpet. Ponce showed her the makeshift

kitchen they had installed for the renters. He walked her down the hall past Maree and

Malin’s new rooms. They were at the very top of the pub with windows above the round

clock tower that dominated the front street view of the place.

“The place is amazing. I’m very excited for you guys and looking forward to seeing it

all finished.”

“That will take some time. Limited funds and all. The party next weekend should help

so don’t forget to spread the word at uni.”

“Don’t worry, I will invite every person I know. Alright, I need to be going, I’m

supposed to be doing actual work soon.”

Felicity left the new pub and headed to her own. She had woken that morning with the

resolve to have a conversation with Malin at the party. He had not called or texted - typical.

But now that she was at one pub and he was based out of the other, she’d hardly seen him in

the past week. She knew something had changed since that first night he’d kissed her but she

wasn’t sure what or why. Regardless, she had decided to stop wondering and to take a more

direct approach – to be more American, as Wolfy had advised her to be a few nights before.

Maree had organised dinner at Café 209 on Munster Road and then drinks somewhere

in Fulham Broadway. She was nervous about the conversation, but was looking forward to

having a night out. They arrived at the café to find some of the new hires from the new pub

already there. Everyone introduced themselves while the wine was poured and the party

began. Malin arrived late as he always had ‘things to do’ after a shift and he sat down

opposite Melia, the pretty Italian girl who had just been hired. She was flirty, too flirty,

coquettishly prompting silly staring contests with Malin that started to get under Felicity’s

skin. After that there was no hope of her getting his attention. He followed Melia around like

a puppy dog. It was painful to watch for so many reasons. Felicity seriously contemplated

going home. Leanna stymied that idea rather quickly.

“You’re not going home! Don’t be lame. You’d sit at home and sulk while all your

friends are out having fun. Why let the douchebag spoil your night?”

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“You’re right, what do I care? He’s free to do whatever he wants and so am I.”

“Exactly. Now get your coat, everyone is ready to go.”

They made the fifteen-minute walk to Fulham Broadway, their singing, laughing, and

yelling reverberating down the residential streets. George met them in front of the Latin bar

as she had made other plans for dinner. Felicity was excited to see her, as George didn’t

normally come out with the group, and gave her a big hug.

George took one look at Felicity’s face and said, “Hey, is everything okay?”

Felicity shook her head, “We’ll talk inside. Let’s get a drink.”

They found places to sit in the back room where there was a curved leopard-print

bench and a couch. Felicity and George took a seat on the couch and Felicity told the quick

version of everything that had happened with Malin.

George sat quietly in surprise for a few minutes, sipping her drink. She finally said,

“Wow! Malin? You? YOU and Malin?”

“Gee, thanks!”

“Sorry, it’s just that you’re you and he is…him.” She wrinkled her nose in Malin’s

direction, “It’s a bit shocking that’s all. You could do so much better than that kid.”

“I’m not sure how to take that. I know that he’s surly and bossy at times, but he’s got

the most amazing heart regardless of the front he puts on.”

“Far be it for me to judge the situation. We can’t help who we fall for.”

The girls looked over to watch Malin trying to stiffly keep up with Melia on the dance

floor. They looked at each other and simultaneously burst into fits of laughter.

“And don’t worry about that,” she said motioning in their direction, “The only person

who doesn’t know that she flirts with everyone, is him.”

“She’s only a symptom of the actual problem.”

“I think you should talk to him if it’ll help you feel better. What’s the worst that can

happen?”

“I can think of a dozen worst things that could happen,” Felicity laughed. “You’re

right, though, I’ll talk to him and then I can let it go.”

“Good girl. Now suck it up and let’s have some fun!”

When the club finally closed, Felicity invited them back to hers. Wolfy picked up

drinks at the all night offy and they set off in two cabs back to her place. A boisterous few

rounds of Truth or Dare were played and Malin ended up with a red derriere as one of the

new guys had been dared to smack it as hard as he could. They were howling with laughter at

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the whiteness of his bare behind adorned with a bright red handprint. Loud banging on the

wall killed the jovial mood instantly.

Felicity felt apologetic about the noise, “I guess it is four o’clock in the morning.

Time to go home, everyone.”

Felicity caught Malin and asked him to stay for a minute after everyone left. He

nodded and yawned. They sent everyone off and the two stepped outside the front door.

“Look, I wanted to ask you, although I’m pretty sure I already know the answer…was

last week a one-time thing? I had thought you wanted more and were waiting on me to

decide.”

Malin rubbed the back of his head and looked away.

He muttered, “I’m terrible at this.”

“Terrible at what? Talking?”

“At relationships. I’m terrible at them.”

“But I’m not. They’re actually my specialty.”

He refused to meet her gaze, looking past her with his hands in his pockets, “That

may be true but I have a lot of things going on right now. I can’t focus on more than one

thing at a time.” He grinned at her shyly, “My focus has to be on work or I will lose my job.

We’ve had fun, a lot of fun actually. It was an amazing night. Maybe things would be

different if you weren’t going to be manager, but will be better since we’ll be co-managing, if

we just keep a working relationship.”

Felicity had expected him to say something like this, but instead of feeling better, she

only felt worse. He was downplaying everything and blowing her off so she tried to retain

some dignity by not arguing with him.

“Alright, so friends then?” she asked.

“Of course.”

Chapter 13

Felicity looked at the plate of chips in her hand. It hovered above the rubbish bin

while she wrestled with herself internally. She was in hour ten of a fourteen-hour shift and

Malin hadn’t bothered to make her food, ignoring her pleading. She had been warned this

moment would come but hadn’t taken them seriously. Hunger trumped pride and she ate a

few quickly before she could change her mind. Her brain might have been appalled, but the

rest of her was grateful. Between training staff for her pub and the new pub, Felicity was

beginning to forget what home looked like.

The Ponce walked by as she did it. “I knew you’d come around,” he said, smarmily.

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Felicity rolled her eyes, “It’s still disgusting.”

He laughed, “Are you available to have that chat?”

“Yes, let me tell Kit and Mass that I’m stepping away.”

“Mass?”

“Yes, she’s new. Deb hired her for this pub but Maree is trying to steal her for the

other one.”

“Right, well come back to the garden when you can.”

Felicity checked to make sure everything was under control, grabbing a glass of Diet

Coke before heading outside.

The Ponce and Nero were at one of the tables discussing what to do about the stained-

glass roof at the new pub, which had begun leaking. Felicity greeted them both and sat down.

“What are you going to do about the roof?” she was curious.

“It’ll have to be pulled out and repaired, which is unfortunate,” Nero said, “and

costlier.”

“That’s upsetting!”

“Eh, it’ll get taken care of. Right, I want to go to bed so let’s make this quick.”

Felicity nodded.

“You may or may not know that Deborah had a chat with us the other day and she

decided that being manager wasn’t for her. We totally understood her reasons for it, but it

was disappointing. However, she told us that you would be the perfect replacement for her

and that she’d be happy to continue as your support. Is that something that you were

interested in?”

Felicity couldn’t help but smile widely. She had known, of course, but it was still a

thrill when it finally was offered. She explained that she was over the moon at the idea but

she had to be sponsored eventually like Maree. They asked her what that entailed and she

explained in detail as best as she knew. They were absolutely on board with the idea and told

her to start researching and filling in the application for sponsorship.

“This is all contingent on your trial period being successful. You’ll do the same six

weeks that Deb went through, and after that we’ll have another chat,” Nero was all smiles.

“We’ll start you off at six an hour but that will be tax-free so you get more money. After your

trial, we’ll talk about an increase and the slightly lower pay will go towards the sponsorship

fees. We’re happy to pay them but paying you a little less will contribute to what we’ll cover

in the future.”

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Felicity was a little confused about the tax-free part, as well as why she would be

getting under minimum wage. Nero tried to explain something about her becoming self-

employed but it wasn’t clear. She was so grateful at their willingness to sponsor her she

agreed, happy that she was getting what she wanted.

The Ponce put on a serious voice, “Now, we hope you won’t disappoint!”

Felicity shook their hands and assured them that she would not. The Ponce left for

home and Nero went up to bed while Felicity ran to the kitchen to tell George the good news.

George was excited for her and said, “Now that Malin’s going to the new place with

Maree and the boys, it’s going to be you, Gio, and me running the place this summer.”

Felicity felt a tinge of sadness to be reminded that Malin was now living and working

elsewhere. Maybe it was best to not see him as often, considering how they’d left things. She

could focus on doing the best she could for her trial. Not that too much would change, she

had been working over forty hours a week to keep things running smoothly as it was. The

staff were young and had other priorities, so scheduling enough people at peak hours had

been a challenge. She also had the fox’s mystery to explore, and with the bosses out of the

pub more often than not, it would be easier for her to come and go as she pleased.

She desperately wanted to go see Reggie tonight but it was her birthday and her

friends were meeting her after work to go out. She was very confused about who she felt

what for. Malin was here in reality and she had fallen for him far too fast, but was it sour

Malin she felt that way about or sweet Reggie she had feelings for? Was it both? They were

two sides of the same coin and time spent with one felt like time spent with the other, and the

lack of difference made the lines blurry.

They closed in a hurry, taking turns getting clothes changed and makeup touched up

in the bathroom while the others cleaned. Deb poured their shift drinks and they were downed

right before walking out the door. The others were waiting out front and Felicity was finally

in a more festive mood after seeing how many people made the effort to come out. They

headed over to Barons Court and The Curtain’s Up for a drink or two before they closed.

Most of her Uni friends had come down from Central London and the pub staff were also

present to celebrate. After the third birthday shot of tequila was chased down with a lime

wedge, Felicity had forgotten her fatigue and confusion. She floated between the different

small groups trying to make sure she got to spend time with everyone who had made the

effort. They were all in high spirits and when the bell went for last orders they decided to

make a move. The noisy bunch navigated through the streets to Fulham Palace Road and the

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Southern Belle. The place was open late, and while not the classiest of establishments they

had American pool tables which Felicity considered a bonus.

They had just bought a round of drinks, including a B52 shot that she neither wanted

nor needed, when she saw Malin locking up his bicycle outside. She had not expected him to

be there as he was supposed to be going home to Essex for the weekend. She was sitting with

Kimmy and Deb trying to stay perched on her stool when he walked up with a beer in hand.

“Happy Birthday, Fe!”

“Thank you! Glad you could come.”

“I would have been here earlier, but I had to place orders and talk to the Ponce first.

Care for a game?” he motioned to one of the empty tables.

Felicity downed her shot and shrugged her agreement, sliding off her stool. Wolfy and

a few of the other guys were playing in teams at the table next to them. They got to a point

where Malin was going to be the clear winner and decided to take a smoke break. Malin sat

down on the low wall outside. Felicity sat down next to him and stretched her legs out. The

May air was cool but pleasantly so and a nice change from the stuffy inside. She was drunk,

feeling bold, and she desperately wanted to understand a few things.

She decided to launch right into it before she lost her nerve, “I texted you a couple of

weeks ago and again two nights ago. Did you not have credit or did you purposely not

respond?” Malin was notorious for his stone-age cell phone and lack of top-up credit.

“I didn’t have credit…and I wouldn’t have responded anyway.”

“Why not? Aren’t we supposed to be friends?”

“I chose not to, that’s all.”

“I don’t understand you.”

“Seeing you at work…you affect me so much every single day. I would do anything

for you”

“Affect you how?”

“You make me want you and when I’m around you I can’t help myself. The last girl I

dated, it didn’t go well. I’m not going to go down that road with you, especially because we

work together.”

“Is it ‘that road’ in general, or specifically with me? Or is Melia now an option? But

you want me also? But won’t hang out with me outside of work because of it…because

THAT makes sense,” her sarcasm got the better of her and she took a breath, “I’ve been told

you walk her home and message her to hang out all the time. I don’t understand how you

want me but are pursuing her?”

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She looked at him waiting for a response and when one didn’t come she got angrier.

“It so happens that she’s a really cool girl and we talk quite a bit. To her, you are only

ever going to be a friend.”

He looked at her with no expression and lit another cigarette. She turned away and

went inside to see that everyone was getting ready to go. She was busy hating herself for

showing him how much he upsets her. Leanna was heading home, but Kim, George, and Deb

were heading up to the Doll’s House. The girls begged Felicity to join them and when she

agreed, they cheered. Kim pedalled her bike slowly alongside as the other three walked up

through Hammersmith Broadway. On the way there, Felicity was unable to keep all of the

baffling details to herself. It felt good to get it all out to three new sets of ears, to people who

had known him for far longer than she.

They arrived at the tiny house by the time she finished, so they sat on the stoop while

Deb and Kim grabbed a bottle of port and four glasses out of the kitchen. They settled in on

the stairs and then Deb, who knew him best gave her opinion on the situation.

“He’s right that he’s terrible at relationships. Not just romantic ones, but all

relationships, friendships included.”

George chimed in, “He does need to focus on his job. He loves the pub but you see

how good he is at maintaining a positive standing there. The Ponce and Nero get mad at him

every other day for being hours late, or running out of stock. He treats even the things he

loves badly.”

“I was fine before I met him. I was finally becoming happy and settled. I don’t want

to feel like this.”

“Then don’t!” Deb said, pouring more port. “Cheers, and congratulations for getting

everything you wanted!”

Ben Howard’s album Every Kingdom was playing in the background as the four

clinked their glasses together. Felicity considered Deb’s toast with conflicted feelings. Was

she getting everything she wanted? She couldn’t explain why she felt that even though it was

the beginning of everything and she was happy, that it also felt very much like the end of

something too. They were right, she was so in love with the pub, the staff, the job…she was

going to be the manager. It was all going to be hers. She wished she knew why that thought

filled her chest with an ache. As the sounds of the song ‘Promise’ drifted out of the double

front doors, beautiful and haunting, tears began to well up in her eyes. Who am I, darling to

you? Who am I? Gonna tell you stories of mine. Who am I? Who am I, darling for you? Who

am I? Gonna be a burden in time, lonely. Who am I, to you?

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“What on earth is wrong?” exclaimed George, laughing.

Felicity laughed with her through the tears, “I have no idea.”

They both lit a cigarette and Felicity squashed down the undefinable feeling. She

knew it would all make sense someday, it always did.

* * * * *

Felicity trudged home far later than she had intended. Every night she had to pass the

new pub on her way home and she never could quite help herself - her eyes looked past the

clock tower to the upper floors and the lit window of Malin’s room. She imagined him up

there by himself watching movies on his laptop as he usually did and she let the same

question float through her mind. Why? Why would he rather be exiled in solitude than with

her? Everything he said was contradictory and none of it made sense. Her eyes focused back

on the street and saw Friend Fox staring at her from the shadows. He slipped back into the

night. Felicity felt guilty for the night’s fun now, though she wasn’t sure why she should.

Chapter 14

Leanna and Felicity sat staring at the box as if expecting it to do something.

“It’s not going to open by itself, you know,” Leanna mused.

“No kidding, I’m just not sure what to do with it.”

Felicity picked it up and closed her eyes, feeling its shape with her fingers again.

“It’s like so many other fairy tales – three tasks to get whatever it is that you need,”

Leanna proposed. “You completed a puzzle in the dark room, and another by getting through

the labyrinth. You used your brain, your senses, and ultimately, your will. Why don’t you

combine them to get this open?”

Felicity quieted her mind and willed the box to open as her fingers probed and push

various edges. Right as she was about to give up, a small panel slid a half inch to the right.

Her eyes flew open to examine the shift.

“See! Good work.”

“Right, now I just have to figure out the rest of the sequence.”

They spent the better part of an hour trying to slide different pieces in the correct

order. Finally, the gap they’d created in the top of the box gave way and the cover slid off to

reveal a small velvet pouch.

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They held their breath as Felicity pulled it out. She pulled open the draw-string and

dumped the contents into her palm. The ring that fell out was the same shining silver as they

extra vine and leaf key. Delicate, thread-like vines wrapped around each other and held in a

blood red stone at the top. Felicity held it up to the light and turned it every direction to see if

there were any markings that could give her a clue as to whose it might have been.

“It’s beautiful!” Leanna exclaimed. “I wonder why you were meant to find it?”

“Meant to find it? I just happened across it.”

“Right, it’s just a coincidence, like everything else that’s been happening.” Leanna

looked at her reprovingly.

“Fine, but it’s hasn’t come with a set of instructions so I’m not sure how useful it will

be.”

“Just put it on, and keep it on.”

“Alright, boss.” Felicity rolled her eyes and smiled. She reassembled the box after

writing down the steps to open it. She wasn’t sure she could do it again without them. She

slid the ring on her right hand, where it fit perfectly to her ring finger. The red stone

brightened with an interior beacon of light, and she felt a wave of euphoria rush her. The

sensation of her brain whirling around inside her skull made her feel nauseous like you do

after too long on the spinning rides at a carnival.

“I need to lay down,” Felicity whispered, and laid backwards, holding onto the ground

for support.

Leanna grew concerned, “Are you okay?”

“I think so, just a bit pukey.”

“Take it off then!” Leanna moved to pull the ring from Felicity’s finger, but it

wouldn’t budge. Felicity tried to pull it off herself but to no avail. For better or worse, it was

on, and it wasn’t coming off.

“I’ll be fine, I just need a minute.” She took some deep breathes and eventually the

tilt-a-whirl feeling stopped. Felicity tentatively sat back up and held her hand up in front of

her face.

“At least it’s pretty, since it’s adhered itself to my skin for all eternity.”

Leanna wrinkled her nose, “At least it’s not a pair of dancing shoes.”

* * * * *

The weekend snuck up on everyone rather quickly with both pubs in a flurry of

activity. Felicity had managed to schedule enough staff to leave at 9 p.m. for the secret party

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at the new place. The Ponce and Nero had told her to be sure to leave on time. They had been

bringing her even closer to the inner circle they shared with themselves and Maree since she

started her trial. There was no way for life to be more perfect…well, almost. She practically

bounced through the park to where the new pub, jokingly named the Vintage Sofa or VS for

short, was located. They had the windows covered for privacy, and there was a large security

guy blocking the side door waiting for the password. ‘Speakeasy’ moved the giant aside and

Felicity entered the large front bar area. The debris she’d seen the last time she had been there

had been cleared out to form the strobe-lit dance floor. The DJ was set up over by the new

deli, and the place was starting to fill up. Maree greeted her with a shriek and a hug.

“You look gorgeous! Treat yourself to anything at the bar. Ponce and Nero said your

drinks are on them for tonight.”

“That’s awesome! Thank you.”

“Congratulations on becoming manager! You’re going to do great.”

“I hope so, five weeks of trial to go.”

“You’ll be fine. We’re going to have to hang out a lot more now that we’re both

managing for them.”

Felicity was unsure why that meant anything to Maree who was generally standoffish

with her, but she took it in stride and agreed. She let Maree flutter off to greet other people

and ordered a white wine from some staff member she hadn’t met yet. Maree had her own set

of new hires she was dealing with along with the remodel, finding suppliers, marketing, etc.

Felicity preferred to oversee her own little place instead of the new big venture. She made her

way over to the garden doors. Her heart lurched when she saw Malin talking closely to some

girl with frizzy hair. Felicity ignored Frizz and Malin’s looks in her direction. She could see

his eyes follow her across the room in her peripheral vision, but continued outside to find

Wolfy and some other friends at one of the numerous picnic tables having a smoke.

There was nothing but laughter after that, and the warm blanket of being with good

friends. The drinks were between two and five pounds each so the party only got more

energetic and loud. Felicity called her pub to check on the closers and encouraged them to

come over afterwards. She went back to her conversation with Mass who she had been

chatting with most of the evening. It wasn’t often she met someone she connected with so

easily but Mass was like a much younger copy of herself and they were immediate friends.

Malin appeared and plopped down on the red leather couch opposite them.

“What’s going on, girls?” he asked, slouching down onto the cushions.

“Nothing, chatting and having drinks like everyone else. You?”

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“Just finished some menu planning. I didn’t feel like drinking.”

“You don’t have to drink to come to the party.”

“Yeah, it’s not really my scene. I’m too tired these days what with running two

kitchens and all.”

“Gio and George pretty much have it down over there so hopefully that will help.”

“Still, there is enough work here for three people. I don’t know how they expect us to

open on time.”

“You are great at what you do, I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”

Malin yawned and looked at her, “If Maree and I survive another three months I’ll be

surprised. She and I are already working twenty hour days.”

Felicity didn’t know what to say so she excused herself and got another glass of wine

from the bar. Kit and some of the other closing staff from her pub walked in and they decided

to get some dancing in before the DJ left for the night. Felicity glanced over at Malin who

was now lying down napping through the noise.

* * * * *

The party died down well after midnight and Felicity had stayed to help Maree clean

up. It was eerily silent except an occasional snore from Malin who was still sound asleep.

Felicity raised her eyebrows at Maree, “Should we wake him?”

“One of us needs to. The alarm needs to be set and I can’t do it with him down here.”

“Can he set it?”

“Yes, he can.”

“Why don’t you go on up to bed. I know you’ve had much longer days than I have.

I’ll get him up and have him set it.”

Maree looked relieved and grateful. She hugged Felicity goodnight and went up to her

room. Felicity went over and shook him gently.

“Malin, hey!” He didn’t respond immediately so she resorted to a little more noise

and a more vigorous shake. He awoke with a start.

“Sorry to wake you, but you slept right through the party. Maree needs you to set the

alarm when you go upstairs.”

He sat up and rubbed his face, “What time is it?”

“A little after 1:30 a.m.”

“Great, got to be up in six hours. That’s a lie-in these days.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

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“No. It’s just a lot of pressure from the Ponce and Nero and sometimes I feel in over

my head.”

Felicity took a seat in one of the armchairs across from him. If he wanted to talk she

wasn’t going anywhere.

“Sure, it’s quite a bit to take on, but if you saw yourself the way I do you’d be fine.

You’re an amazing chef with so much natural talent. The food will sell itself.”

“Stop with the compliments! I hate them. They’re the death of any chef; they make

you lazy.”

Felicity rolled her eyes and explained her views on his capabilities, the future of the

business, and encouraged him to hold on through the transition. He was listening intently and

responded with plans for both businesses. They dreamed together, since they both saw their

futures with what would be a growing number of holdings for the two owners. After a while

there was a lull and Felicity decided it was time for her to go and for both to get some sleep.

She got up and stepped over to the couch to give him a hug goodbye. He hooked one leg

around her knees as she leaned forward and toppled her onto him, kissing her underneath the

broken stained glass ceiling.

* * * * *

As Felicity collected bits of clothing from the couch and floor she admonished

herself. Whatever pulled them together, disappeared as quickly as it had come. Malin grabbed

a glass of water from the bar and walked upstairs without a goodbye. She had made a mistake

by giving in to someone who could act so callously towards her, but there was nothing to be

done about it now except not make it again.

Chapter 15

Felicity had a rare day off, consequently she had no idea what to do with herself

without work and uni to worry about. After a morning of blankly staring at the television, she

decided to head out for a long, wandering walk. She was preoccupied with all sorts of

thoughts about the pub, Malin, Reggie, and everything else that had been going on in her life.

Without thinking much about it she had made her way down Fulham Palace Road towards

the river near Hammersmith Bridge. She finally took note of her surroundings and found

herself in the approximate location of the old palace she and Reggie had turned into their own

special spot. The area where the palace had once been had been initially taken over by a

distillery, but was now multiple businesses including Riverside Studios. The one remnant that

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appeared familiar to her was a section of old brick wall still standing between the urban

developments. She sighed wistfully and ran her hand over the heavy covering of ivy. She

looked carefully between the vines hoping that somehow the door to the palace was there

still. A glint through the heavy curtain of green made her catch her breath with hope. With

anticipation, she pulled it away to see what was underneath. Rubbish, literally! A piece of

silvery foil from a pack of cigarettes was stuck into the vines. She couldn’t help feeling

disappointed and released the leaves she’d been holding back. No wait! She caught sight of a

bit of pear-shaped metal appearing out of the brick next to the spot she had been examining.

Felicity reached over and touched it tentatively. When she did a large section of the brick

shimmered and the door came into focus. She fished her keys out of the pocket of her jacket,

noting with satisfaction the silver vine and leaf key, sparkling in the sunlight. She inserted it

into the keyhole and gave the door a hard tug.

She stepped through it, half expecting to be back in the pub. This time, however, she

was in the palace gardens. Not one bit of it looked like it had when she had been there before.

The palace itself was pristine, as if construction had been completed recently. The garden’s

usual sprawl of overgrown flowers and bushes were neatly landscaped and even lovelier than

they were in their unkempt state. The broken fountains were intact, clear water sparkling in

the sunshine as it sprayed into the air. The stone ruins by the river were now a finished

building complete with stained glass windows. She walked through trellises of wisteria and

jasmine towards the weeping willow tree she and Reggie had sat under, moving past it to

peak into the windows of the gothic building. It appeared to be a small theatre with an

opulent interior of crystal chandeliers, and purple velvet seats. She moved around to the back

of the theatre and saw a long gallery extending from the main house. The façade of Doric

columns framed enormous paned windows. In between these, were marble statues and busts

of men and women with Victorian dress and hair-styles. She examined the one closest to her

and drew back quickly. The woman was fine-featured, lovely even in stone. There was

something sinister in her smile, though, the carving of a noose around her slender neck. The

next was a man with similarly beautiful features. As if trapped in the pillar, his own arm

protruded from the column below neck-level and extended up, holding a dagger half

imbedded into his stone head. Bold choice, but okay. She couldn’t wait to see the enormous

statue in the middle of the long gallery, curious about the horrors it might portray.

Felicity moved to stand in front of it. The full figure of a woman in a flowing gown,

looked off into the distance. She admired the sculptor, whoever they were, as the folds of her

dress were so delicately carved it looked like gossamer instead of stone. Leaning her head

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back to take in the whole figure, she felt a strain in her neck as the statue was nearly as tall as

the gallery itself. The lady’s hair flowed past her waist, framing an angelic face and radiant

smile. Crowning her head was a tiara, her fingers and neck decorated with ornate jewellery.

She stood with her elbows bent at her waist, holding two objects in her open palms. Felicity

strained to see what they were. A cloud moved solicitously in front of the sun, allowing her to

see in one hand a human heart, and in the other a small-bodied, beautiful bird with a long

curling set of feathers flowing six inches below the hand that held it. Felicity wrinkled her

nose at the oddities. She decided to leave the lady to it, and moved back towards the end of

the long conservatory to see if there was any way inside.

She found two large glass doors with wrought iron peacocks for handles. Hesitating

for a moment, she decided she should knock first. You know, just in case. It seemed rude to

go bursting into what might be someone’s abode. She knocked as loudly as she could and

waited a few minutes. Best give them time, it is a massive house. Finally, she could wait no

longer and grasped the peacock tails, mentally crossing her fingers that they would give way.

To her delight they opened with ease and she showed herself into the hall. The conservatory

was all granite. There were designs in lapis lazuli that curled over the floors and up the pillars

and walls. Every few feet more statues lined the path, these reminiscent of the ones she had

seen in the foxes’ garden, each a different mythical creature. There were what appeared to be

enormous upside-down trees coming out of the ceiling by the root with dense branches of

tiny lights. The sun had dipped low in dusk and the tree chandeliers only increased in

brightness every second.

She continued down towards the opening at the end. Eventually stone gave way to

rich carpeting and the library of her dreams. Thousands of books were sat on bookcases that

reached thirty feet into the air. They appeared to cover every available surface. In the middle

of the room were comfortable-looking chairs, a chaise with a marble-topped side table, and

Tiffany-style lamp. She was inclined to stay in this wonderful room full of books, but she was

compelled forward, vowing to come back and explore the books if she could. The gilded

double doors at the other end seemed to be the only way forward and were slightly ajar.

Felicity squeezed through and found the marble floors a shock to her feet after the

plush carpeting of the library. She was off to the side of what appeared to be the main entry

hall with a ceiling that soared three storeys high. The lapis lazuli had been enhanced by other

precious and semi-precious stones in intricate patterns of flowers and plants. She turned left

towards the front doors and saw the rear end of an elephant. She rounded the front of the

large object and was delighted to see two life-size versions of her favourite animal carved out

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of white stone. They were covered with inlay work like what she’d seen all over India. They

flanked the wide staircase that wound off to each side and up to the next floor. A deep red

carpet went from the wrought iron doors, up the stairs, and to the landing in front of a set of

equally large white wood doors.

She walked in front of the stairs to the other side to peak into the next room. It was a

dining room with rich carpets and crushed-velvet covered walls. There was a formal dining

table positioned in the middle of the room which was painted black with at least twenty

chairs. The ceilings were covered in painted frescos like she’d seen in the Louvre, with gilt

hands extending from the walls holding torches that lit the room. Something had been

bothering Felicity since she set foot in the house and it finally struck her what it was. There

was not a speck of dust to be seen. Even houses that had been empty for a short while had the

feel of emptiness and the lights certainly weren’t left burning all day and night. These things

definitely suggested there was probably someone at home. There was no reason to panic

though, right? People were usually friendly enough and she could beg their pardon and be on

her way if someone should happen to discover her. Yes, she agreed with herself, that is true.

So why don’t I feel more comfortable? She was invested now and couldn’t have stopped

herself even if she wanted to.

Felicity left the dining room alone and turned back to make her way up the stairs and

stood in front of the massive doors. There were no handles that she could see, so she made

the decision to give them a strong push inward. She had over-estimated how heavy they

would be, and giving way easily, they sent her into the next room flat on her face.

Before she could gather herself from off the floor, she heard a delicate, yet

commanding voice, fill the air.

“I hope this isn’t how you enter every room. How very unladylike.”

Felicity picked herself up off the black and white checkerboard floor and looked

across the room towards where the voice had come from. She blinked a couple of times,

because what she thought she saw was the statue woman from outside come to life. This lady

had the same lovely features and flowing hair, mahogany-coloured in reality. The dress was

still white but more shimmery than even the fine stonework conveyed. She was seated on a

throne covered entirely in peacock feathers which fanned out behind her as if they were her

own. Two golden peacocks formed each arm of the chair, the white of her dress even more

white arranged against such rich colours. Felicity noted that instead of holding a heart and a

bird, her left hand rested on one of the arms, gently stroking the peacock head as if it were

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real. The other held a delicate sceptre made entirely of moonstone. A light seemed to come

from inside it, brighter still with a white pearl of light at the end. The ball of light seemed to

float in the middle of a latticed moonstone cage.

“Are you mute or simply rude?”

Felicity blushed. She had said nothing at all to the person sitting in front of her. If this

was her house it was rude indeed.

“Apologies,” she stammered, “I didn’t know…I didn’t think…I’m sorry for barging

into your house.”

The lady smiled, “Please come closer, I feel like I’m shouting and well-bred people

never raise their voices.”

The musical voice did not dispel the anxious feeling her smile gave Felicity.

Cautiously, Felicity strode across the great room, taking note of the white satin walls, painted

cathedral ceilings, and the distinct lack of furniture in such a grand space.

“Please sit.”

Felicity opened her mouth to protest that there was no chair when she looked behind

her to see a high-backed, cosy-looking armchair had appeared out of nowhere. She snapped

her attention back to the person before her. She didn’t know how she had missed the intense

amber eyes, they were mesmerising.

Felicity sat down and waited for the woman to speak again. When she did not,

Felicity ventured a question.

“My name is Felicity.” She paused for a moment, and continued tentatively, “Might I

ask who you are and where I am?”

“Introductions. Yes, good girl, quite a polite notion. My name is Princess Elizabeth

Craven and this is La Trappe or Brandenburgh House, if you prefer.”

“It’s a wonderful place!”

“Yes, quite, thank you. It belonged to my mother and her husband.”

“Her husband?” Felicity felt immediately bad for being so nosey. The look the

princess gave Felicity made her feel nauseous.

Felicity shrunk into her chair, and tried to clarify, “Then your father…Something

must have happened to him?”

“Something DID happen to him…my mother.” She spoke in a scathing tone, as if the

word ‘mother’ were somehow dirty.

Felicity searched her brain for something to change the subject to.

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“I am truly sorry for intruding. Sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me and I

can’t help myself.”

The princess laughed, “Oh darling, please do not apologise. You were expected.”

“But how could I possibly be expected when I had no idea that I was coming here?”

“Well that is simple enough, isn’t it? You are here because I summoned you.”

Chapter 16

Felicity felt overwhelming dread at the idea of being summoned by someone who

made her skin crawl. All she could wonder was, “Why?” As if reading her mind, the princess

responded to the unasked question.

“You might be wondering why I summoned you here.”

“Might?” Felicity couldn’t help the sarcastic tone.

Princess Elizabeth ignored the comment.

“I have a proposal for you that will be mutually beneficial, my precious child.”

Felicity’s eyes narrowed, “I’ve met you before, haven’t I?”

The princess smiled wickedly, “You are quite bright. I was wondering how long it

would be before you figured it out.”

“Figured what out? How can you be two different people?”

“It’s only a bit of fun. I play the aging, heart-broken mother for darling Reggie: knit,

bake, look after him, run that awful little public house.” She wrinkled her nose at the

reference.

“Are you really his mother?”

“Why, of course I am! Malin, Reggie, whichever name you choose to call him, is my

son.”

The weight of what she said struck Felicity like a slap in the face, “Malin? What do

you know about Malin?”

“You’re not as quick as I hoped. I would have thought that would have been obvious

by now.”

Felicity was getting angry and panicky all at the same time. Not a good combination.

“What is obvious?”

“Such a temper. I’ll thank you to reign it in, little girl, at least in my presence.” She

sighed deeply and then spoke slowly as if explaining something elementary to an imbecile.

“Malin and Reggie are the same person. Obviously. Two halves of the whole, one darkness

and one light.”

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“How? How does that happen?”

“Most anything can be accomplished with magic and a good work ethic.” The

princess allowed herself an undignified eye roll and went on explaining. “I divided his two

natures into separate beings. We all have two natures in us. We have now Reggie, the best of

himself, and Malin, the worst.”

“But, why?” Felicity noted that she wasn’t sounding any smarter with each

flabbergasted question.

“We’ll get to that, but first let me explain my proposal. I’m truly a philanthropist at

heart, darling. I provide a wonderful service to the broken-hearted. You see, the human heart

is not that gross, beating organ in your chest that simply exists to pump blood through the

body. The seat of human emotions is something greater and more ethereal, its essence takes

the shape of a beautiful little bird. Oh, they are quite a sight to behold, ever-changing colours

and a source of power beyond anything that exists in any realm I’ve encountered. Throughout

the years I have taken pity on poor souls who have experienced great loss and offered them a

trade. I relieve them of the offending emotions and in return they receive the wonderful peace

of never having to love again and subsequently, never having to feel pain again.”

“How wonderfully selfless and thoughtful of you,” Felicity snarked.

“Isn’t it though? I remain young and powerful, and they rid themselves of a nuisance.

Genius really, if I do say so myself. I guess, if I fit into the stories of your world, you could

call me the Queen of Broken Hearts.” She laughed heartily at her own joke.

Felicity didn’t find any part of this funny.

“How does a little bird give you power?”

The princess looked Felicity directly in the eye and with her mouth turned up into that

horrid smile, she replied, “I eat them, of course. They are so very delicious.” She licked her

lips as if savouring the thought.

Felicity’s stomach churned. She was afraid to ask but couldn’t stop herself, “What

does this have to do with Malin, Reggie, and me?”

“I’m glad you asked. Thus far I’ve only been able to procure damaged hearts, ones

that only half-loved anyway. It is rare for someone to love another for both the good and the

bad, their whole true self. These damaged offerings are beginning to be…insufficient.” The

princess looked momentarily dismayed. “However, if I were to consume an unbroken heart,

one that truly and unselfishly loves another. Well, that is power worth having.”

“I still don’t understand what that has to do with me or them…him…whichever.”

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“For goodness sake, must I spell out everything?” she sighed deeply. “Fine. I came up

with the brilliant plan to place each half of my son in different realms, hoping that they would

find someone to love and to love them in return. It has happened that some silly creature will

love one or the other but never both and vice versa. They have to love her and she must love

them both equally in return.” The princess leaned forward in her chair looking expectant, “I

must ask, do you love my son?”

Felicity paused for a moment and thought about them both. She did love them both,

equally but differently, the same but for vastly different reasons. She loved Reggie for his

purity of soul and sweet nature. She loved Malin too. Despite his mother’s claim that he was

the bad half, she believed that you can’t separate a nature so completely. Felicity guessed that

all the shades in between black and white hadn’t been considered by the princess.

She answered simply, “Yes.”

“Excellent! I am so pleased. Malin tends to be the crack in my plan, he’s so….”

“Prickly?” Felicity offered.

Princess Elizabeth laughed, “Prickly! Like a hedgehog. My son the hedgehog.” She

broke out into peals of laughter.

This lady is absolutely off her rocker. Felicity was trying to come up with an exit

strategy but failing miserably. With her serious face back on, Princess Elizabeth said

abruptly, “Have you made a decision?”

“About what?”

Her beautiful face clouded over, and she practically hissed, “I want your heart. I

thought that was quite clear.”

“No! Why would I ever give up the ability to love?”

“Because, love is fragile, it always breaks. You may be in love now, but you’ve seen

the coldness he’s capable of. He will ruin you, and you will ruin him. I’m offering the chance

to avoid all of that.”

“Why don’t you just take it? If you want it so badly why not rip it out of me right

now?”

The princess’s eyes darkened in anger. “I can only take what is given to me.” She

relaxed her face almost immediately, her voice took on a soothing tone. “Ah, I do understand

that the very reason I wish to have your heart, is the very reason you’re not willing to give it.”

“Pardon?”

“Only the wounded see in hindsight, the value of not being able to feel. Come closer,

let me tell you a story.”

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Felicity didn’t see an exit or any other option so she complied, pushing her chair as

close as she dared.

“I was once like you, darling. I was young and pure of heart. Watching my mother

and father struggle, I promised myself to be faithful and true, better than they had been. I met

a beautiful man when I was barely eighteen. I believed so strongly in our love that I left all of

this behind.” She waved her hand, motioning to the room around her. “He was a publican and

I had the most ridiculous romantic notions that we would live simply in the rooms above his

pub, we would raise a big family, and grow old together. He was as cruel as he was beautiful,

however, and he was never faithful, not even on our honeymoon. I refused to see it at first.

No one ever wants to believe the worst of someone they love. But it was impossible to ignore

when he brought a girl into our home. Our own home!”

Her countenance brightened and she said, “But no matter. I took care of that. I made a

trade you see, for all of who I am now, potentially unending life, magic, power. It was the

best decision of my life and it could be yours too. Can’t you see there is so much to be gained

and so little to lose if you give me what I want? We are the same, you and I! I am trying to

give you the chance that I never had.”

“We are nothing alike.” Felicity stated with more certainty than she felt. She unnerved

because deep down she knew that the Queen of Crazy Town wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Very well. If that is what you think. It’s time for you to go.”

“You’re letting me go?”

“Well of course, darling,” she smiled her sickly-sweet smile. “I can’t force you into

anything you don’t want to do. I need you happy, whole, and intact for when you give me

what I want.”

Got to give her credit for persistence. “That’s never going to happen, I promise you.

Besides you’ve made it clear, or at least Anne has, that you don’t approve of Reggie and me.”

The princess laughed, “Human nature, dearest. What is forbidden is almost always

more avidly sought. I express my disapproval; he only runs headlong for you.” She paused, “I

wouldn’t make promises you can’t keep. Now be on your way, I’m sure you’re anxious to see

my son. The deeper you fall, the more delightful my next meal.”

Felicity nearly jumped out of the chair, ready to run, but unsure of where to go.

She turned around to boldly face the princess once again, “If I’m free to go, would

you please show me the way out?”

“Yes dear, I think you’ll find it’s the only door in the room.”

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And with that statement, she vanished. Felicity swivelled around trying to find the

door to which she was referring. Finally, in the far corner of the room she spied an open

doorway with a set of stone stairs leading down. She wasted no time flying down them as

quickly as her feet would carry her.

* * * * *

She saw greenery and daylight as she left the stairwell but did not slow her pace as

she jumped off the last step and ran smack into someone.

“What are you trying to do? Kill an old man?”

When Felicity saw Jimmy, she could have cried in relief.

“I have never been happier to see anyone in my whole life,” not releasing her death

grip. “What are you doing here? We’ve got to get out of here!”

“What on earth are you talking about, girl? What are you doing out here anyway?

Playing hide-and-seek in the rubble?”

Felicity was confused by his nonchalant manner; maybe he didn’t know about the

dangerous occupant of the great house.

“The princess, she’s a bit mad, and I’ve only just gotten out of the house and away!”

“What house? There hasn’t been anything resembling a house here in years.”

Felicity turned around to indicate the intact mansion behind her. Words died on her

tongue when she saw nothing more than ruins. All that was left of the stone stairway she’d

fled down were a dozen steps leading to nothing but blue sky. Blue sky? The sun had been

setting when she’d entered the mansion. She wondered how long it had been since she’d gone

through the door.

“I don’t understand. I was just inside having the strangest conversation. I walked

through the house.”

Jimmy looked at her strangely, “Are you feeling alright, girlie? Too long in the sun

can play tricks on the mind.”

She didn’t know what to say. Considering all that had happened, she knew that her

reality was constantly shifting. She calmed a bit as she looked around to see the familiar

over-grown garden and the placid face of her friend.

“I’m fine,” she finally answered. “I think I need some water.”

“Come along then, I’ve got some bits and bobs in the tool shed.”

Jimmy led her to the far corner of the property and had her wait outside an old,

leaning garden shed. He returned promptly with a small basket. Without a word, he turned

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and started walking down a path behind the shed. Felicity followed. They didn’t have to walk

too far before they came upon a small pond and a gazebo. The gazebo was overgrown with

ivy like the rest of the garden, with white paint flaking off the columns. The curved stained

glass above was dingy and dirty with neglect. Jimmy passed by the gazebo and went down

closer to the pond where two curved stone benches were clear enough to sit on.

He sighed deeply, took a seat on one, and motioned to Felicity to take the other. He

rummaged through the basket, removing two sandwiches wrapped in brown paper, two

apples, and two flasks. He handed Felicity one of each. She took the flask, opened it, and

sniffed suspiciously.

“Don’t worry, its only water.” Jimmy laughed.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a long drink from it. She opened the sandwich packet

and hunger hit her full force. She sniffed that too and determined it was roast beef. Practically

inhaling it, she wiped her fingers on her dress. She thought wryly about how her wardrobe

seemed to automatically change depending on location. Shame it doesn’t work like this in the

morning when I walk out of the bathroom. Poof, and I would be dressed for the day. She bit

into the apple and decided to use this opportunity to ask Jimmy about a few things. He had

been sitting in quiet contemplation of the pond while she ate, taking swigs out of his flask. If

she were a bettin’ girl, she’d put money on his containing something other than water.

“Jimmy?” she started.

He looked her direction and for a moment his eyes were golden instead of their

normal blue. Felicity attributed it to a change in the light.

“Yes, darlin’?”

“You’re the caretaker of this place?”

“Yes, for more years now than I can remember.”

“Have you ever noticed anything strange going on here?”

He gave her a long look, “I guess that all depends on what you mean by strange?”

Felicity thought for a moment, unsure of how much to say. “I don’t know, strange.

Like anything changing on the grounds or with the mansion?”

“At my age you see lots of things alone at night in a quiet place. Whether they’re real

or not is always the question.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

Felicity looked away momentarily, thinking.

“You used to bring Malin here to see the foxes? It was you, wasn’t it?”

“Aye.”

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She appeared to be asking all the wrong questions and felt like she was getting

nowhere fast. Time to stop beating around the bush.

“Are you the same Jimmy as the one in my world?”

She watched him carefully to see how he responded. He was in the middle of a long

drink out of his canteen and the question made him cough and sputter.

“I…I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The coughing continued, an old man’s deep and braying cough that seemed to rattle

his very bones. It was barely a flash but Felicity caught sight of orange fur that looked again

like a tail peeking out from under his coat. When Malin had mentioned that foxes could take

on human shape it had planted a seed that had now bloomed.

“I think you do. I think you know exactly what’s going on. Tell me the truth, I need to

know!”

Jimmy’s coughing only got worse causing him to double over and in a flash the old

man was gone. In his place, perched regally on the stone bench was Friend Fox. He shook his

head and coat out and settled back down.

“That’s not very nice, bullying an old man,” he said, calmly.

Even though Felicity had been half expecting it, she still gasped at the transformation.

I was right! She exalted in having figured out at least one part of the mystery.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“I suppose that depends on what you wanted to happen.”

Felicity mused that the irritating way they both answered questions should have been

enough of a clue. “I need answers. I feel like a pawn in a game between you and Princess

Nutcase.”

“It is far from a game. The stakes are far too high.”

“What stakes? What is your part in this, because I get the feeling that helping me find

true love is hardly your main objective?”

The fox looked smug and sly all at the same time, “I’m hurt that you should think so

little of me.”

Felicity snorted, “Yeah right. Foxes are hardly known for their charity and

benevolence.”

Friend Fox snarled quietly, “There’s no need to be insulting, but I suppose you are

correct. In this case, I enlisted your help, and sent you a gift to aid your endeavour.”

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“Funny, I don’t remember volunteering. Now that I’m here though, what is it that you

need from me? And what gift? I’m proving quite popular today and am in a generous mood

to entertain your request, sire.”

He ignored her snotty remarks.

“I wonder if you noticed the sceptre the woman was holding when you met her?”

“Yes, it was hard to miss. Let me guess, you are asking if I noticed the glow-y pearl

encased at the end of it.”

“Clever girl. Indeed. See that pearl is mine, she stole it and I need it back.”

Felicity was feeling a bit mean, “Did you think to simply ask her for it?”

“I’m starting to lose my patience, child.”

“The feeling’s mutual, buddy,” Felicity said, but reined in the snark after that, afraid

of the repercussions. She was getting needed information finally, and didn’t wish to make

him disappear. “Okay so she has your pearl, what’s so important about it?”

“It is my essence, my life-force. Without it I will eventually cease to exist.”

Felicity then understood the fox’s sense of urgency. His interest in this wasn’t about

freeing Malin from a spell; it was all about saving his own life.

“Why did she take it though?”

“She didn’t take it. It was borrowed, but she has kept it long past the terms of the

agreement. It gives her all of her powers, maintaining her many spells, including the one over

her son.”

“So help him and help you.”

“Exactly.”

“Why me though? Surely there are other ways of getting it back?”

“No one can get close enough, certainly not myself. I tried as the old man, but she can

see through the illusion thanks to the pearl. She needs you alive now that you are tied to her

son, and therefore, are the least likely to perish in the attempt.”

“Perish? You’ve got to be kidding me. What makes either of you think I wouldn’t just

quit my job and walk away from the entire mess?”

The fox looked grim, “Because fate, by its very nature, eliminates the ability to ‘just

quit’ as you say.”

Felicity sat quietly. Whether she believed in fate or not she knew she would not walk

away. Putting aside the love she felt for the pub and the boy for a moment, she felt no more

able to leave this path than a character in one of the many books she loved. She couldn’t

imagine one of them sitting down in the middle of the story, refusing to move forward, or

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walking straight off the page. For better or for worse, this was her story. She must see how it

ended, no matter the consequences.

“What gift are you talking about?” she asked to interrupt her own pondering.

Friend fox motioned to the ring on her finger. Felicity lifted her hand and rubbed it, as

she often did these days, and exclaimed, “You!? Get it off me, then, please!”

“Why would I do that? Besides, I cannot.”

“Can’t you just magic it off?”

“It’s a ring more ancient than any fox currently breathing. I led you to it, but that is all

I could do. Once it is on, it does not come off until it has been used.”

“Okay, so it stays on. Why?”

“It is for protection. Use it only in the direst of situations.”

“But I…”

The sky started to cloud over very quickly then, as if on a time-lapse film, interrupting

her questions. Thunder began to rumble in the background. It wasn’t like any storm Felicity

had encountered. Friend Fox glided down from the bench.

“It’s time to go.”

“Why, what’s happening?”

“A storm.”

She was tiring of his condescension. Bold choice to ask for help from someone you

constantly treat like an idiot.

The fox must have sensed her mood and expanded on his answer, “It’s her. Only I can

wield the power of the pearl for long. She’s unable to manage it properly. Hence her need for

you.”

She got up from her bench, looked at the sky once more, and turned back to Friend

Fox only to find him gone. Great, what do I do now? She decided to jog back up the path and

to the door in the hedge. If the door was at her beck and call, she’d find it there now. The

dark skies turned even more threatening with multi-coloured lightning bolts streaking across

billowing dark clouds. A bright red one hit a tree a few feet away, causing her to freeze for a

moment to evaluate the sky and consider the distance left to traverse. Felicity decided it was

as safe as it was going to be and wasted no more time grabbing the handle and scrambling

through.

She emerged into bright sunlight onto the familiar modern streets. The door was no

longer visible from this side. She was pleased to feel her trainers on her feet and hoped that as

before she would not have been gone for very long. She ran all the way back home through

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Fulham. Hoping to find Leanna at home, she burst through her front door. She hurriedly

checked each room and called out. No answer. The time showed she’d been gone almost six

hours, much longer than any time before. Feeling exhausted as if she had not slept for days,

Felicity collapsed onto her bed and fell fast asleep.

Chapter 17

Deb, Wolfy, Maree, and Felicity whirled around tables and chairs in a flurry of

activity: bringing plates, taking away glasses, and trying to keep things under control. It was

tennis week at Queen’s Club which was located right around the corner from the pub. This

meant the dining room was packed for Sunday lunch. Felicity responded to the kitchen bell’s

ding, checking the tickets on the board outside the kitchen. It was full. She was about to grab

the plates off the prep table when Malin barked her name, startling her out of her thoughts.

“What’s up? I need to get this food to table twelve.” She turned his direction but

avoided his eyes. She jumped in surprise when his response was to yell at her, loudly. He

ranted about how long it was taking them to get the food out, how many tickets had come

through, anything he could think of it seemed. Felicity was so at a loss for words that she

grabbed the ready plates and walked out on him mid-sentence. She dropped the food off with

a plastered-on smile and went back to the kitchen.

“What is your problem?” she asked him through the pass.

“My problem, Miss Manager, is that you aren’t doing your job. I need jugs for gravy

and I don’t have them. I need food to go out on time and it’s not.” He went on to detail more

of her shortcomings before she finally cut him off.

“Look, I’m doing my job just fine. If you need something, ask for it! Not only have

you been rude to me every single time I walk through this door, you are now yelling at me for

things that make no sense and that I can’t possibly control. Do not ever speak to me like this

again!”

She retreated out of the kitchen after that, leaving him fuming, and refused to go back

in for the rest of the day. She breathed away tears as the pub was far too busy to allow for that

sort of thing. The others took over kitchen relations and she took care of everything else.

Wolfy and Maree tried to reassure her that he had been this way with everyone at least once,

but she wasn’t listening. He was being particularly nasty to her and she had no patience for it.

At least a half a dozen customers had complained that the lamb roast had too much fat and

gristle and not enough meat, food was taking much too long to come out, and trying to be a

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server and take care of customer complaints all at once was taking a toll. Meanwhile, Nero

was attempting to move a gigantic refrigerator upstairs in the middle of service. This entailed

dismantling the part of the stair railing that was still intact after attempt number one had

partially destroyed it. Perfect timing, was all she could think, a she nearly dropped two plates

navigating around the disaster.

After giving a few meal refunds and many apologies, Felicity was elated when food

service ended. Now all they had to focus on was serving drinks. This wasn’t much of a

consolation, however, because the Queen’s Club staff were now off and closing out a busy

week. She had never pulled, poured, or mixed so many drinks in one shift. They were running

out of any liquor that could be consumed via shot, nor could they keep enough glasses

running through the dishwasher. She was also obsessively checking the business levels on the

till.

“Okay, troops, we are £300 away from breaking the pub record for sales in a day. Sell

like your life depends on it. If people want shots we give them shots, if they order mixed

drinks we offer them doubles, got it?”

Kit, Maree, and Mass laughed and gave her a mock salute. Felicity was on a mission

to close out her trial period with a bang. Having worked together so often, they flew around

each other in the bar so easily it could have been choreographed. Felicity loved the method

behind it all, the rush and whirl of taking orders, making change, having a laugh or a chat in

the moments during someone’s order. She loved going through the pub at the quickest

walking pace possible, stacking glasses in her arms or on a tray while joking with the

customers in the garden, breathing in the night air before returning to the candlelit, cosy

interior of the pub. It was a thrill, the energy of it filled her veins like the perfect drug.

It was ten minutes to last orders and they were fifty pounds short of their goal. Two

guys from the big staff party in the garden came in and Felicity flirted her way into the

purchase of two trays of shots. She smiled even through the disgusting smell of Sambuca,

passed them their trays, and rang them up. Shoving the extra tips they’d left into a now

overflowing pint glass, she pulled the numbers one last time as the clock moved past 11 p.m.

They’d done it! She printed off the tally and announced the good news to the others. No time

to celebrate, however, as they’d left the garden open a bit too long. At this rate, it would take

ages to clear out all the drinkers and be on the way home themselves.

While everyone else was doing the obvious jobs, Felicity ran around doing the

random little things she knew that Nero liked done before they went home. She went to the

basket in the back hallway to find the main keys. The managers had keys to the side door, but

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there was only one master set for the front and garden doors. These were looked after like

they were made of solid gold and kept in the pub on a giant key ring. The keys were not in

the basket but that was typical. They were occasionally needed throughout the night and

tended to migrate around the pub. Felicity checked the bar area, then the cellar, then the

kitchen. She tried to nail down who had closed the garden as she had been too busy to notice.

Kit said that Wolfy was the last person to have been seen with them, and it wasn’t unheard of

for someone to put them in a pocket by mistake. Luckily, he lived close enough to bring them

right back. Felicity dialled his number.

“Hey! It’s Felicity. Sorry to bother you but you wouldn’t happen to have the pub

keys?”

“Hello darling, let me check.”

Felicity literally crossed her fingers while she waited for him to look, bouncing up

and down nervously.

“I’m sorry to say that they’re not here. Should I come back and help you look?”

Felicity was starting to panic but kept her voice even, “No, no! You’ve worked every

day for the last two weeks, get some rest. Thanks, mister.”

She got George, Gio, and Kit to help her search every inch of the kitchen, hallway,

pub, and garden. She called the Ponce in desperation. He seemed incredibly unconcerned

about her inability to lock the pub he owned and left it with Felicity to figure out what to do.

Finally, she sent everyone home, hoping they would magically turn up somehow. She poured

herself a glass of wine and pulled a stool down from the bar, unsure of what to do next. She

heard the back door open and silently prayed that it was an angel bringing her a second set of

keys or an axe murderer coming to put her out of her misery. Either would have been

welcome in that moment. To her surprise it was Wolfy!

“What are you doing here?!”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. Did we ever find them?” He pulled down a

stool and took a seat next to her.

“No. The only thing I can think to do is to sleep here. I can’t leave the pub unlocked.

If it gets robbed, that’s it for me. Six weeks of hard work gone to waste.”

“Then I guess we’re going to grab the blankets and pick a spot to stretch out.”

Felicity knew how tired he was and his caring smashed through her bravery. She

pushed her wine away, put her forehead on the bar with her arms hanging at her sides, and

sobbed. Everything seemed like too much. Wolfy patted her on the back and tried to joke her

out of her tears.

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“If you’re going to be fired anyway, we might as well go get some sleep.”

Felicity did laugh despite herself.

“Can’t we tie the doors together or something and explain to Nero tomorrow?”

Felicity considered this for a moment. “I did think of that. I think I’m going to have to

bite the bullet and go upstairs to get Nero. I’ve called him three times with no answer. Can

you wait here while I go? It’ll be harder for him to kill me with a witness.”

“Sure, go for it.”

Felicity ventured up the stairs and knocked on the main door. It was slightly open so

she knocked again and waited. A very sleepy Nero finally appeared.

“I’m so sorry but the pub keys are missing and I don’t know what to do. I’m really

sorry.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t seem annoyed, he sighed and followed her back down the

stairs. He disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a heavy screwdriver.

Nero yawned, “Frankly, it’s better you came to get me than forgetting to lock it and

going home. That has definitely happened before.”

He walked over to the front door, and with a few whacks on the screwdriver, had

managed to wedge it into where the padlock should have been. Nero pulled on the door very

hard - it was stuck fast. “Now, I don’t know how we’re getting that open in the morning,” he

laughed, to Felicity’s utter surprise, “but we’ll deal with it then. Go home you two.”

* * * * *

She headed back into work early the next morning, a little afraid of what she would

find there. It would take most of a pay cheque for the doors to be rekeyed if it came to that.

She walked through the back door and into the bar to silence. The only movement was Kit

polishing glasses.

“Where is everyone?” Felicity asked.

“Hi! Oh, I think the Ponce and Nero are in the garden and that’s about it. George and

Gio aren’t here yet.”

Felicity walked through the back room and out the garden doors. No sense in avoiding

the boys. She found the two men in work overalls and high spirits.

“Hi?” she said tentatively.

Nero looked at her with a wry grin, “You’ll never guess where we found the keys.”

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Felicity breathed out the air she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in, “So we found

them!?”

“Yes, much easier to spot in the daylight. Apparently, my Dad sat them on the ledge

right outside the back door while we were moving things in and out yesterday.”

“But I looked out there,” she sputtered, “…about eight times!”

The Ponce broke in, “You wouldn’t have seen them up so high in the dark. We’re

lucky we found them at all.”

“That’s great. I thought I was fired for sure. I was planning on sleeping here if we

couldn’t lock the door.”

They both laughed. Although now that they were found, Felicity was annoyed that the

Ponce hadn’t been half as concerned as she had been. She decided to hold her tongue.

“Need anything while I’m out here?”

“Why sure! I’m thinking it’s well past time for a beverage if you don’t mind. You’d

think by now you’d just bring our drinks with you.”

Felicity rolled her eyes at the Ponce’s put-on voice of importance.

“Yeah, yeah. Builder’s tea, and a coffee with two sugars and milk. At least you’re

predictable.”

The Ponce laughed, “That’s our girl.”

They were okay, and happy with her all around. She’d seen it go the other way with

Malin quite a bit and never wanted to be on the wrong end of their tempers. She retreated to

the pub to make their drinks, dropped them off, and got to work with opening duties.

The night was quiet compared to the last week and they were enjoying the relaxed

pace. Nero and the Ponce packed it in outside and were heading over to the new pub to check

on Maree and Malin. As they were walking out the front door Felicity wanted to remind them

her trial was nearly over. It was clear when she mentioned it that they had indeed forgotten.

The Ponce commented on how fast the time had gone, and promised that they would take her

to dinner in the coming week to discuss everything.

Chapter 18

Felicity spent the next week in silent revolt against the expectations she felt pressured

by. She would go through her door before anyone arrived at the pub in the morning, and

managed to come back after spending blocks of time with Reggie without anyone noticing.

She made sure they avoided the garden, instead, spending time in his room or wandering

through the many orchards that were scattered through his Fulham. It was wonderfully

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relaxing and totally unsustainable, but frankly she just couldn’t care. She felt completely

intertwined with him/them, every moment feeding her addiction, ignoring the many niggling

‘what ifs’. The Malin half seemed as uninterested in spending time with her as the Reggie

half seemed desperate to have her time and attention. She didn’t know what would happen if

she helped the fox retrieve his pearl and she was too frightened to find out.

Felicity had dinner planned with the boys on Friday and the day came far too quickly.

She spent the day with Reggie in their Neverland, went home, got ready, and headed back to

her pub. She walked in happy to be taking a break from the normal busy Friday night. She

trusted her staff but was usually in the habit of scheduling herself for the busiest shifts of the

week so she was on hand in case something went awry. Deborah was there, however, and

whenever she was, Felicity could stop worrying about it all.

She popped her head into the kitchen to find Nero and the Ponce discussing the

night’s menu with George and Gio.

“Hola! When are we heading off?”

“Thirty minutes,” said the Ponce, without looking up. Felicity walked back out

through the bar to check on the staff and found them scrubbing counters and polishing

glasses.

“That’s right, peasants! I want this bar to shine like the top of the Chrysler Building!”

Kit responded, on cue, “We love you, Miss Hannigan!”

Felicity picked up a polishing cloth, went over to her iPod which they used now for

the pub music, and selected a group favourite ‘Put the Lime in the Coconut.’ They danced

and sang along while working, much to the entertainment of early customers. It was moments

like this that Felicity loved most. She polished wine glasses until Nero and the Ponce were

ready to go. They hopped into the white truck and headed towards Chiswick, detouring to

show her their next planned acquisition. Felicity imagined not only running her pub, but

eventually quite a few more.

They sat at a table in the back of Cote Brasserie and made small talk while ordering

wine. They were halfway through the main course before Nero began to speak about her trial.

“So, I think it’s clear that you’ve knocked it out of the park,” Nero said with a grin,

“We couldn’t be happier.”

Felicity beamed. “Thank you!”

“We had the highest sales volume in pub history during Queen’s Club and you’ve

managed it wonderfully well. I feel good about moving onto the VS and leaving the pub in

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your hands. Malin will be managing both kitchens and basically the pub will be yours and his

to run.”

“I’ve been working on the sponsorship application as well. It’s almost ready, we just

need to talk to the accountant for a couple of documents that we will need.”

The Ponce jumped in, “That sounds great. We’ll be happy to get you what you need. I

want to echo what Nero has already said. You’ve really stepped up and we’re excited for the

future.”

They talked and joked through the rest of dinner and left the restaurant with Felicity

buzzing from their praise and the delicious settled feeling of being home. It felt strange

entering through the front door. She spent so much time behind the bar, she’d forgotten how

magical it would look to someone entering the doors for the first time. It was full but not

over-crowded and they took the table by the front door. They let the staff know that her trial

had gone well and she would be the official manager. Felicity accepted congratulations and

hugs from her friends, while she and the Ponce waited at the bar for more drinks they

probably didn’t need.

“How does it feel to look around and see so much of yourself in the pub?” he asked.

Felicity glanced around at the wall-sized chalkboards covered in her neat handwriting.

She took in the sounds of her perfectly constructed music playlist filling the room. Every

corner had been arranged and planned in detail, her many efforts glowing in the candlelight.

“It’s amazing,” she said with humility and awe. “I promise you, I will always do my

best by it.”

The Ponce sounded wistful. “I’m almost jealous. I fell in love with it too, but am

looking forward to the new venture.”

At that moment, Malin came out from the kitchen to get a soda at the bar. His

presence must have knocked a thought loose in the Ponce’s head. He turned to her and said,

“You know what? I’m going to bet on you and Malin having babies. Anything going on

there?”

Felicity’s heart stopped at the unexpected question. She kept her cool, and said as

nonchalantly as possible, “Nope. Why would you think that?” Trying to laugh off the notion.

“I don’t know, just something that came to me.”

Nero walked up to the bar and stood next to him.

“Hey, Nero. Felicity and Malin having babies…would you take that bet?”

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Nero blustered, “Why not? He’s an attractive guy, she’s an attractive girl. I could

move them into a bigger room at the new pub and collect more rent. Works out for

everybody.”

Luckily for Felicity, the drinks came and the conversation shifted when they sat down

at the table. As the night wore on, various staff members pulled up chairs as they got off

work. Nero and Ponce were in one of their random generous moods and were buying the

drinks. When Malin sat down, Nero grilled him about his night out with the Ponce a few

nights before. Felicity had known they’d gone out together but hadn’t heard much about it.

“Any action, mate?” Nero asked.

Malin looked a bit uncomfortable, “Nah, not really. There were a couple of girls there

that seemed keen. Only a bit of a pash, then home after.”

Felicity felt nauseous at the thought and slipped away.

She found George outside, about to light up, and sat down on the old stump across

from her. George was as informative as always and assured her that there had been a kiss but

when the girl suggested taking things further, Malin had left to go home without her. Felicity

felt ridiculous and berated herself for being such a jealous, possessive nitwit. Why, why,

WHY, do I care?

Chapter 19

There was no time for anything but work the next day with a double shift scheduled

for herself. Malin would be there with her since the new pub wouldn’t open for two more

days. She went into the kitchen when she arrived to say hi to George but saw Malin alone by

the stoves instead. He looked at her directly for what seemed like the first time in ages and

asked her how her meeting went with the boys. She told him what she could remember,

including how it was theirs to manage together for the future. He grilled her on a few more

things and Felicity quickly realised this new-found need for conversation was strictly due to

him wanting information for himself. She told him what he wanted to know and left as

quickly as she could.

The entire day was uneventful and Felicity was walking back up the cellar stairs when

she ran into Malin on his way out. Felicity tried to give friendly conversation a go and asked

how his night out with the Ponce went, even though she already knew.

He methodically folded his apron, and responded quietly, “It was fine. I hate you

though.”

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Felicity was taken aback, “Oh? Why now?”

He refused to look at her, “No reason, I just do.”

He did not seem at all angry with her for once so she was confused. “Thanks for

clearing that right up. Anything I can do for you to stop hating me?”

“Yes, you can get out of my head.”

She wasn’t sure what to say in response.

He carried on so she didn’t have to. “When are you finished here?”

“I’m basically done, just need to take the bin bags out.”

“Oh, can you wait for the kitchen guy to do the same before locking the door?”

Felicity watched the guy he was talking about grab the bags and literally walk behind

the two of them as he was asking.

“Sure, but I think he’s doing that now.” She gave him a questioning look.

“Is there anything else?”

He ignored the question, “So where are you moving to?”

Felicity was surprised he knew she and Leanna were looking for a place. “No

destination yet, we’re still looking.”

“There’s room in my bedroom.”

Felicity had no idea what he was on about. “Your room…how generous, although,

I’m not sure how comfortable that would be for many reasons.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Besides having a riveting conversation with you? Probably having a quick drink with

Kit and then heading home. Why?”

He was fiddling around with his keys, and said, “Just wondering.”

He was stalling for some reason, and could not seem to get to whatever point he was

trying to make. Whatever it might have been, she would never know as Kit called her name

and Malin practically bolted out the back door.

She relayed the conversation to Kit over a glass of wine.

“WHAT a weirdo.” Kit commented. “Why does he have to make everything so

difficult?”

“I’m not sure he knows how to be any other way,” Felicity said with a wry chuckle.

“You should text him. Maybe that was the best foot forward for him?”

“What on earth do you mean? He didn’t say anything about anything!”

“Oh just do it, you know you want to.”

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What harm could it do really? She simply sent a text saying, “Heading towards home.

Did you want to hang out?”

“He’s not going to respond.”

Kit tried to be positive, “You never know, he might.”

“And pigs could fly out of his ass, too. That’s just as likely.”

The girls laughed at the image, put their glasses away, and locked up the pub.

Felicity turned into the park and ran into Gio along with Malin in the alleyway by the

VS. She didn’t want to interrupt the conversation, so she waved and continued walking.

She heard Gio call her name, forcing her to turn around and walk back to where they

were standing.

“Hello, gentleman, what are you guys up to?”

Gio put out his cigarette and flicked it towards the street, “We were about to head

over to my place for drinks and a chat. My girlfriend has everything ready if you want to

come with?”

Felicity looked at Malin to gauge whether she would be welcome, but he only flicked

his cigarette short of Gio’s, lamenting the loss as they had a long-running distance

competition. She loved London at night and silently followed the boys through the quiet,

empty streets. The city always felt like it existed for her alone after dark.

Gio’s place was only a ten-minute walk from the pub and they arrived to a lovely

candlelit spread of snacks set out by his lovely girlfriend, Maddy. Felicity had met her once

before at the pub but had not had much of a chance to get to know her. The girls headed into

the kitchen to pour some drinks, chatting about Felicity’s new role and the state of the pub.

After a while, they settled into the living room with the boys and had a nice talk. At

one point the conversation turned to dating and relationships. Malin said how jealous he was

of Gio and Maddy’s relationship and shared living arrangements. He seemed indescribably

sad.

Maddy responded, “It is nice here and we are happy. Surely you’ll find someone

soon, Malin.”

“I don’t know. No one has ever managed to put up with me longer than a couple of

months.”

Felicity was irritated at him, for so many reasons. She didn’t know how much Maddy

and Gio knew of what had happened between them, if anything, so she left it alone and the

conversation turned to other topics. They had cigarettes in the kitchen, blowing the smoke out

of the open window which overlooked North End Road. It was getting late so she and Malin

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said their goodbyes. Before they left Gio made Malin promise to walk Felicity home, as that

part of town could be a bit dodgy after dark. He seemed to do it somewhat begrudgingly and

they fake argued about how annoying the other was all the way to Felicity’s front door. She

turned around to quickly thank him for accompanying her home. Out of the blue, he leaned

down and kissed her, insistently and urgently. She thought that maybe should push him away

but she couldn’t. His hands slid up and under her shirt as the kiss deepened. She managed to

pull back and heard herself say, “I suppose you should come inside then.”

Before she fell asleep, Felicity understood that she loved Malin specifically because

of his darkness. For there to truly be light in any person there also must be an opposite, and

passion was nothing if not a mix of both extremes. The Princess had not separated out the

good and bad entirely, there were remnants of the opposites in each of the halves, of that she

was certain, and with that final thought she drifted away.

* * * * *

The next morning, he left early to get to work on time, although this was after Felicity

finally shut his phone off to stop the alarm going off every 10 minutes. An alarm he happily

ignored but which was driving her insane. He kissed her goodbye this time and she went back

to sleep for a bit, not on the schedule until that evening. She spent that morning prepping with

Leanna for their Paris trip. Now that her trial was over she was taking a well-deserved three

days off to take her sister and their Irish friend, Patrick, to the Fête de la Musique which

happened once a summer in her favourite city. A change in post code usually brought with it

some clarity.

She loved the friendliness and familiarity of the pub community as some of the

regulars wished her a good trip as they left, knowing how hard she’d been working during her

trial. Leanna had come in for a drink before closing and she and Felicity were going to walk

home together. Wolfy offered to lock up and take care of the till. She leaned through the

kitchen door to say goodnight to everyone, including Malin, and was turning to go when she

heard him say, “Wait!”

He was coming around from the stove and grabbed her into a big hug.

“Have a good trip, yeah.”

Felicity was surprised at his display of caring. She said she would, and muttered some

other warnings about not burning the place down while she was gone. He hugged her a

second time and as she walked out the door, said, “Do have a nice time. And stay away from

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the French boys, they’ve got diseases!” Felicity laughed at what was probably the sweetest

goodbye she could have expected.

Chapter 20

She had been correct about needing a change of location to clear her head. She felt

immediately lighter as the Eurostar sped through the countryside. She and Leanna had plenty

of snacks, books, and things to discuss. Felicity had apologised, but was resolute about taking

her iPod with her. Much to Deb’s disappointment, they were back on the Ponce’s old playlist.

They’d survive, Felicity was sure of it. She put the volume up as high as she could stand and

watched old houses and fields rush by as she let go for the first time in months.

They met Patrick on the Champs-Élysées and found the small apartment they’d rented

for two nights. Felicity had spent a summer in the 7th arrondissement a couple of years before

and Paris felt like home to her. After dropping her two companions off at the Musee D’Orsay,

which she had visited multiple times, she set off into St. Germain des Pres. Promise by Ben

Howard streamed through her headphones and was set to repeat. With both earphones in to

block out everything but the music and her own thoughts, she walked and remembered.

She had walked down Boulevard St. Germain every day to attend French classes at

the Sorbonne, the classroom beautifully located within a stone’s throw of Notre Dame. The

same shops with new displays were as she had left them. This had been quite a while before

she’d ever had the thought to move to London. She couldn’t help but marvel at the twists and

turns that make up a life. Appropriately, considering the sound of rainfall took up the first

forty seconds on the song, it began to rain despite the sunshine. Ducking under the awnings

of the bookstore located next to the Café de Flore, she breathed in the unique smell of warm

summer rain cleaning dusty air and streets. It showed no signs of letting up yet, so she bolted

through the onslaught into the café. She chose a small table and treated herself to the most

delightful ice cream dessert she had ever had in her life. She wrote a few pages in her

notebook and waited for the rain to stop. It was always okay to be alone in Paris, the city

itself enough of a companion to join in on the contemplation of heavy thoughts.

By the time she’d made it to Boulevard St. Michel after stopping in a few of her

regular shopping spots, it was nearly time to meet up with Patrick and Leanna. She seated

herself on a window ledge and waited. It took them longer than expected to find her and she

was ready some sustenance by then. They settled into a café for coffee and a snack. It was

late enough in the day to see musicians setting up all over the city. The Fête was essentially a

city-wide party, after all. After lunch, they took the metro up to Sacre Coeur, climbing up the

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side steps to the main courtyard where a large DJ booth was being assembled. The stairs were

a party any day of the week, and the three negotiated carefully around locals and tourists

drinking bottles of beer and strumming guitars. It was Patrick’s first time in the city, so

Felicity guided them to the left and behind the basilica towards Place du Tertre, the artist’s

square. It was touristy, but still one of Felicity’s favourite places with the portrait artists,

outdoor tables, and winding streets. The sun was setting and the brightly coloured awnings,

buildings, and people were technicolour against a darkening blue sky. A quick dinner at one

of the outdoor restaurants and they were off again, back to the centre of the city to see what

the Marais might have awaiting them in the twilight. From then on, the rest of the night was a

blur as they wandered, stopping for drinks on nameless streets, following the music wherever

it led. It was quite late when they returned to their flat and they went right to bed as Felicity

had plans for them in the morning.

Les Puces de Saint-Ouen was a wonderland of oddities, antiques, and junk, the largest

of the Paris flea markets, and their morning destination. They took the metro to Porte de

Clignancourt and made their way through the underwhelming section of tourist t-shirts and

souvenirs to get to the good stuff. There wasn’t much you could not find in this ancient part

of Paris if you looked hard enough and asked the right questions, but today Felicity had no

agenda except to wander. There were stalls full of old buttons, pins, keys, and other random

junk. The range went from the small and odd to the large and exotic. They marvelled at the

available selection of taxidermy. A standing zebra and skinned orang-utan, displaying

preserved muscle and vein, were the highlights. They vowed to come back and outfit any

future mansions with every unique item that caught their eyes. Felicity was drawn to the book

stalls, as usual, keen to find a leather-bound set of Jules Verne books that she could afford.

While browsing through the oldest section of books she could find, her gaze settled on

an ornate, leather-bound volume entitled Japanese Fairy Tales. The cover was embossed

with a fox, multiple tales swirling around it in orange and silver. She smiled in delight as she

ran her finger over the fox’s form, picking it up to thumb through the pages. Leanna walked

over to see what she had found and laughed.

“I take it we’ll definitely be going home with that?”

“Sure, if it’s not too expensive.” Felicity looked around for the shop owner and

motioned him over to ask the price. They haggled for a bit and agreed on a perfectly

reasonable 20 euros, considering the age and condition. Felicity tucked the book into her bag,

eager to read through it on the train home. She felt as if she’d accomplished something with

the purchase and spent the next day and a half enjoying the city and the company.

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* * * * *

On the train home, Felicity’s fingers were itching to open the book, but she was

instead pulled into a lively discussion about the differences in accents in the UK. With

Patrick staying the night before returning to Dublin, there would be no time to read before

work the next day. She felt refreshed, as if every scattered part of her had been reassembled.

She had missed Reggie while she was away, missed him with an inner ache that she had not

expected. Was it just Reggie she missed or both halves? She couldn’t tell. There was only the

uncomfortable feeling that no matter how real the other world felt, it seemed dream-like and

temporary. Maybe it didn’t have to be, she mused, maybe she could stay there with Reggie

who loved her wholly. Even if she could, would she?

She put her thoughts aside as she walked through the back door of the pub. She was

accosted by staff, welcoming her back, and asking how the time away had been. Poking her

head into the kitchen to see who would be with her for the night, she was surprised to see it

was Malin. He came around from the stoves to give her a hug.

“How was the trip?” he asked, when he let go.

“It was great, thanks! Went very quickly though.”

“Still, I’m sure it was nice to get out of this place for a while.” He seemed more open

and gave her a smile while rubbing her shoulders.

“It was.”

“So, uh, meet any people while you were there? Any French boys?” He looked away,

shuffling his feet.

She rolled her eyes, “Yes, tons of them, I had at least a half a dozen romances in two

days.”

He smiled awkwardly and went back to work. She smiled to herself and walked out to

the bar.

* * * * *

The week went smoothly at Felicity’s pub, while preparations were being made for

the official opening of the Vintage Sofa. She wiped her hands from the wet chalk she was

using to write a short advertisement for the new pub on the chalkboard doors of the closed-up

dart board hanging on the left-hand side of the bar. She admired her handy work and stepped

off the chair. The Ponce and Nero had not been around often, thankfully. Sometimes in high

spirits, sometimes cranky, Felicity never knew which to expect. The minute she saw the

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white truck round the corner she flew through the known pet peeves to make sure nothing

was awry. The night before last had been so busy they had arrived before she remembered to

turn on the outside lights. It had been the closest she had come to being at the bad end of

Nero’s temper. Luckily, he had just stormed to the light panel, turned them on, and reminded

her of how important it was to get them on before dark.

The Ponce was less than impressed with the staff Maree had hired for the VS, so he

had asked her and Deb to work the official opening night at the end of this week. Felicity

liked the new place but it wasn’t home. She had completed an uncomfortable few hours of

training over there and wasn’t looking forward to working the opening. But she would do it,

because she had been asked to, and she would do anything for them. Besides, Wolfy had been

asked to run the deli and Deb would be with her, so how bad could it be? Losing Wolfy was

not making her very happy; she’d probably have to find two people to take his place. The

constant hiring was tedious, but they were always hiring it seemed.

They had a framed sign at the bar that said, ‘Friendly bar staff required,’ like the one

she had seen when she had first visited the pub. It had gone through a few incarnations

because the smart-alec customers liked to make the joke while pointing to the sign that this

bar absolutely needed friendly bar staff, the current staff were pretty crap. They would all

give a ‘ha ha’ and think of how to say it better. Currently it said, ‘More friendly bar staff

required.’ Changing the wording hadn’t helped one bit. She considered how else to say it,

once more, while going around to each of the tables with a pitcher of water and some extra

flowers. The boys hated it if they looked even remotely parched or dead. Pet peeve number

852. Felicity was in the middle of writing a staff handbook to get every small detail into one

place. It was seven pages long with half of that a list of pub maintenance items for every area

of the pub. There was an incredible amount of detail expected and with only a few

established members of staff, it was up to her to catch things that might set off a tirade.

Inevitably, whatever she forgot would be the first thing Nero would pick up on when coming

back to the pub.

Leanna had come in with a friend that afternoon for the new two-course lunch special

the boys had come up with. As it was slow, she and Deb were hanging out with her in the

empty pub.

“How funny would it be to torture the kitchen staff a little?” Leanna said with a laugh.

“What did you have in mind?” Felicity was game.

“Well, it’s thirty minutes past lunch service, and I’m feeling like a little dessert.”

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Felicity and Deb laughed. The kitchen staff, including Malin, were deep in the middle

of cleaning and prepping menus for the new place. However, if a lunch customer ordered

dessert, they had to make it, no matter how long after lunch service it was. Felicity strolled

over to the till and punched in the most annoying dessert she could think of – the lava cake.

Malin hated serving it. If you over-baked it, it was no longer a lava cake but a chocolate

brick. She walked back over to the table trying not to laugh, guessing it would be about two

minutes before someone would come out of the kitchen angry. Her estimate was way off as

Malin strode out to the bar fifteen seconds later, looking around to find the offending

customer. The girls stifled giggles at the look on his face. He came over to the table

sputtering.

“Who ordered the dessert?” he finally got out.

Leanna boldly took the blame.

“Look, mate, it’s past lunchtime and everything is shut down.”

Felicity stepped in, trying to carry on the joke, “But she was a lunch customer, Malin.

You know the rule.”

“Seriously? You couldn’t have ordered it thirty minutes ago? We have a ton of stuff

going on and I don’t have time.”

Sensing their prank had not been found funny, Felicity said, “Hey! It’s fine. It was

only a joke, calm down.”

Instead of this calming him down he got even more upset. He started in with a lecture

about how much needed to be done and how she and Deb shouldn’t be loafing around, and if

they were so bored they could try being helpful.

Felicity could take no more, “Look, I’m sorry. It was meant to be funny. Clearly you

don’t think so, so just go get what you need to do done and stop wasting your time out here.”

He stalked back to the kitchen, leaving the girls to a moments worth of silence.

“Well,” Leanna started, “someone needs to pull the stick out of his ass!”

They laughed but the mood was a bit soured. He wasn’t wrong, there was a lot to do,

but it was hot and they were unmotivated in the summer heat.

* * * * *

Felicity strolled from her pub, through the park, back to the VS. It was opening night

and she had taken extra care with her appearance, a bit nervous to not know the bar as well as

her own. She walked in to find the pub in a relative state of calm, considering the importance

of the day. She had been expecting chaos. She strolled to the staff area to find Maree, halfway

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between the kitchen and the bar, yelling orders to staff in both directions. Apparently, the

chaos was contained in one tiny Australian. Maree looked lovely in a flowing dress with

flowers in her hair. She also looked tired.

Maree took one look at Felicity and Deb, who had walked in seconds after her, and

said, “Oh thank God you’re both here. I’m about to lose my mind. Nero and the Ponce have

both left to go shower and change, and no one here has a clue.”

“What can we do?”

Felicity almost regretted asking, when Maree rattled off a list of a dozen things that

needed tending to in the dining area and bar. However, it was what they were used to and

they set to work with an hour to go before opening.

By the time the boys came back, dressed in uncharacteristic suit jackets and button-

down shirts, she was serenely wiping down the bar as if that is what she had been doing all

afternoon. Everything that could be done had been done, and the pub looked beautiful in the

candle light. Felicity looked around and admired the hard work that had been put into the

place. The walls and bar had been painted in light and neutral colours. Old-fashioned, fringed

lampshades covered most of the light fixtures, with candles in glass jars on the rest of the

tables. Four leather couches had been placed over by the patio doors to create separate seating

areas with coffee tables between each set.

The deli was the most beautifully transformed area. The display case was full of

gourmet cheeses, meats, sandwiches, and salads. The shelves behind the counter were lined

with china plates, teacups, and jars full of sweets. There were antique clocks, scales, and

other items that gave the place the feel of an old-timey store. Malin was manning the deli and

had been busy with a steady stream of customers since the doors had opened twenty minutes

before. Lucky for him, the kitchen wasn’t set to open for another two days. The place was

filling up as Maree had spread the word through her extensive network. The bar was even

busier than the deli, but Felicity and Deb were flying effortlessly around the new staff, even

in an unfamiliar bar.

The Ponce wandered over to get a drink. Felicity looked up and smirked, “What can I

get for you, sir?”

He placed both hands wide apart on the bar and leaned forward, “Peroni, please!”

Felicity mused that from his slightly red cheeks he’d had a few already. She jumped

while getting a Peroni glass, when he slapped his hand on the bar and said, “Now this is what

this place needs, you and Deb behind the bar. It’s pure class and professionalism, beautiful to

watch.”

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“Sorry, I’ve got another pub to run. You’ll have to make do with the new staff.”

He winked at her, “We’ll see about that, you could always manage more than one!”

She gave him her most winning smile, “Enjoy your drink, mister, I have other

customers,” and shooed him away with her hand. She did have a multitude of other customers

to serve. Many were regulars at her pub, come to see the new venture. Everyone was very

complimentary of how they’d changed the interior, with the only consensus being that it was

a large space, maybe too large. Felicity listened carefully as the boys were eager for

feedback. One of the oldest regulars, Ewan, and a mate of his, had come in for a quick pint.

When Felicity had a minute, she grabbed a glass of water and stood chatting to them for a bit.

Ewan asked, “Do you know the history of this place?”

“No, I certainly don’t, anything interesting?”

“Well,” he said conspiratorially, lowering his voice and leaning in, “we locals believe

this place is cursed.”

“Cursed! Why?” Felicity was intrigued.

“It was originally used as a temperance hall, dedicated to fighting the consumption of

the demon alcohol,” he laughed and clinked his glass with Felicity’s, as if cheering their

obvious failure. “Thus far, every pub that has existed on this site, and there has been a fair

few, have failed. Gone belly up.”

“Let’s hope we can prove the superstitions wrong, eh?”

“We wish them luck.”

Felicity excused herself, amused at the little tidbit.

Finally, at 10 p.m. it had slowed enough that Maree sent Deb and Felicity away with a

drink in hand. She assured the girls that the new staff could handle the lower volume. Nero

and the Ponce were standing at the bar talking to a small group of people and motioned the

two girls over. They requested tequila shots and Felicity was still shaking her head no as they

placed one in her hand.

“You have to drink, it’s a toast to you. We leave our first love in your capable hands

as we move forward with the new. To Felicity and Deb!” Nero raised his shot glass, and they

downed them, grimacing. Felicity was glowing from the praise. She was happy, settled, and

looking forward to the future. For the first time in her life, she was the one who would be

staying while she watched everyone else go. It was the nature of the work. Short-term staff

would eventually move on to other pursuits. She was sad that things would change and

people would come and go, but she was ready. She was home.

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More shots were poured, Felicity’s iPod came out of her bag, and she had one of the

new guys plug it in to the sound system. She had yet to create a playlist for the VS like the

Ponce had asked her to do, but scrolled to the big band music. There was nothing but open

space in the large front room as the tables had been cleared away to the sides. The Ponce

came up to her and bowed, offering his hand. Felicity took it and they twirled around and

around the pillars, feet pounding the wood floor. The walls rushed around her and her face

hurt from smiling. She misstepped and tripped them up. The Ponce grabbed his foot in mock

agony, winking at Felicity as Deb cut in. Felicity took the opportunity to go find some water.

She wandered over to the bar, watching as Deborah and the Ponce flew across the

floor in peals of laughter. Malin had come over from the deli with a beer in hand to watch the

antics. Suddenly he set it down, turned to Felicity and said, “Shall we give it a go?”

Felicity nodded and off they went. They managed fine for a while. She was getting

dizzy from the spinning as she and Malin whirled across the room, only occasionally stepping

on each other’s feet. The people, the candlelight, all faded into the background as they looked

into each other’s eyes. He leaned in and whispered, slightly out of breath, “To be honest, I

have no idea what I’m doing.”

She whispered back, “That’s okay, neither do I.”

It was only a moment, the kind that could have lasted seconds or days, and when it

was just the two of them time ceased to exist. It was her instinct that there was something

deeper and greater that kept her mesmerised. She knew it made no sense to anyone but her.

Then again, did it need to? Someone changed the music and the spell was broken.

Felicity leaned over the bar to set her shot glass down on the counter and caught Nero

staring at her chest. She wasn’t the only one to see it and Malin commented.

“So? She has great tits, nothing wrong with admiring them,” he said to the observers,

unapologetically.

There was only awkward silence that Felicity broke trying to laugh it off. Even if he

was her boss, she worked in a pub after all, and had her fair share of over-attentive male

customers. That said, she would have preferred her boss not being one of them.

It was getting into the early hours of the morning and she moved behind the bar to

tidy up as most of the staff had already been sent home. It had only been Nero, the Ponce, and

a small collection of staff and friends for some time. It was Felicity’s turn to send an

exhausted Maree up to bed with a promise to look after the stragglers. One by one everyone

left until it was only Felicity and Malin shutting off lights and locking doors. She was coming

out of the bathroom on the resident level to head out the only door that would lock behind

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her, when Malin popped his head over the railing and motioned her up a floor. She went up

the stairs and he pulled her into his room.

* * * * *

Right as she was about to fall asleep, he pulled the duvet over to his side of the bed.

Felicity was exhausted and was in no mood to walk home yet. She pulled at the duvet and she

heard him mutter, “Go away. This is MY bed space.”

She had to give it to him, there was no one like him for ruining a perfectly lovely

evening. She stood her ground; feeling pieces of her self-respect drift away, and tugged the

cover back over to her side, throwing a few choice words in his direction. She woke up early

enough to get home before anyone else in the pub would be up and around to see her. She

paused before walking out of his door, looked at his peaceful sleeping self, and walked back

over to kiss him on the cheek. Dick.

Chapter 21

Desperate for some time with the nice version, who made it clear that she was adored,

Felicity did not go straight home. She snuck through the backdoor of her pub, arriving before

any of the morning deliveries. No one would be around for hours so she slipped through her

mysterious door and found Reggie up the stairs, sleeping in his neat little room. A drastic

difference from Malin’s, as she’d had to make her way around piles of DVDs, empty cans,

and dirty dishes the night before.

“Hey,” he whispered sleepily, as he saw her standing over him. “Leaving me

already?”

Felicity was confused. She was coming, not going. She ignored him, put her finger

over his lips, and motioned for him to get dressed.

They snuck down the stairs and out the back door into the lane, this time heading off

to the right towards the pear, apple, walnut, and plum orchards she loved to walk through

with him. She knew that historic Fulham had been full of orchards and market gardens that

supplied much of London. Beneath the taller fruit trees, Reggie had explained that under-

crops such as cranberries had been planted, making quite a delicious maze for them to wander

through without another person in sight for hours. Felicity was happy to be in a peaceful

place, holding his familiar hand. This and her previous trips here, a refuge from a hectic life.

Reggie broke the silence, “Is everything alright? You don’t usually wake up before I

do.”

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“Yes.” It was all Felicity could manage to say, because nothing felt quite right inside

of her. Why couldn’t Malin be this nice, at least some of the time? The rhetorical question

was pointless. She knew why. The thought angered her because she was unwilling to do

whatever it was that needed to be done. She wanted to spill out her worries and fears to him

but something stopped her. Would he even understand? He couldn’t seem to see past the

charade his mother put on. She turned and looked at him, forcing a smile, breathing away the

tears she knew would come if she let them.

“Catch me!” she said suddenly, and took off at a run, ducking through trees, avoiding

bushes.

It was always a short game because of his long legs, her long skirts always catching

and tripping her up. She turned around expecting him to be right behind her, ready to concede

defeat, but he wasn’t there.

“Reggie?” she called. She stopped for a moment and listened for him. “Are you

there?”

She had a small heart attack as he came roaring out of a bush right behind her,

tackling her onto the ground. She punched him in the shoulder.

“Not at all funny!”

“Oh I highly disagree.” He was still chuckling.

Without warning his laughter turned to choking, and his face went a dozen shades

more pale than usual. Felicity was not convinced this wasn’t another joke, and told him he

was far from funny…until he went limp next to her. She shook him a few times hoping he’d

laugh at her distress and call an end to the act. He didn’t move. She tried not to panic,

listening for a heartbeat. She tapped his face with her palm and yelled his name. She looked

around frantically for help, but of course, there was likely no one within earshot. The sky

crackled, dark clouds rolling in faster than any natural storm would bring. Oh, not now! The

rain began falling in sheets. She felt the ring press into her finger and she was just about to

call on it for help when she saw the form of a person walking swiftly through the onslaught.

Jimmy’s face came into view and she started crying. Right then the colour all around her

faded out to black and white like an old movie. A gust of wind pushed through the orchard,

tearing every leaf off every tree as if the seasons had changed instantaneously. The ground

shook and rolled. She motioned him to hurry and tried to explain what had happened. Jimmy

cut her off.

“Get out of here, lass. Back to your world. Now!”

“I don’t understand what’s happening! Can you help him?”

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“Aye. I may not be at full strength, but I’m not out of the game yet. You’ve got to go,

though. I told you time was running short.”

“But…”

“Go! This world only exists when you’re in it. With her limited power, she had

enough to set the spell in motion but not to keep it going indefinitely. It’s like a count-down

clock, running down. I wouldn’t come back here until you’re ready to do what needs to be

done or I’m afraid all will be lost.”

He looked at her with the eyes of Friend Fox and she knew not to question further.

Sobbing, she ran all the way back to the pub and flew through the door back to her own

world. She took deep quiet breathes on her side of the door to calm down. She hadn’t been

there very long at all and the sun was just now coming up. Felicity rubbed her hands together

and tried to steady herself to leave quietly. She slipped out and sped-walked home, worrying

for Reggie, and wondering the whole way what would be lost if she never again went through

the door.

There was no chance of her sleeping when she got home, so she tried to calm herself

down in the quiet house by pulling out the book of Japanese fairy tales she had purchased in

Paris. Curling up on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, she read. Story after story about the

kitsune had her mesmerised. It was the first time she had heard the name, but it described

Friend Fox perfectly. The chapters were full of fox myth and lore. Her eyes swept over one

section of the book that nearly leapt out at her. She felt coldness creep back through her

insides as she read.

The kitsune are especially talented in illusion. They have the ability to create small

pockets of reality; space and time bend at their whim. A cupboard might be turned

into a palace, or a field an entire country full of people, animals, and seasons created

by the kitsune - as real to the viewer as if they truly existed. Alternatively, with

swishing tails and a steady gaze with their intended victim, the kitsune can create

entire worlds that only exist inside the mind of the enchanted.

She set the book down, processing the incredible information. Anger came first that it might

be an illusion. Then that seemed silly, because she had experienced it, so illusion or not it was

very real. Friend Fox was as real to her as the couch she was sitting on, and he was here in

her reality. She often wondered what ‘reality’ was anyway. On more than one occasion, she

had dreamed about having a dream, convinced that each had been real…until she had woken

up. At the time, though, if she had stayed forever, her mind would not have known the

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difference. She needed to shut her mind off and go to sleep if her huge yawn was any

indicator. Unwilling to move, she slid down right there, setting the book gently on the floor.

* * * * *

“Hellllooooooo, Felicity. Earth to Felicity!” Kit waved her hand in front of Felicity’s

blank face. Felicity had been polishing the same glass for about five minutes until Kit got her

attention.

“Sorry! I’m not really here today I guess.”

“Where are you then?” Kit smiled and carried on polishing her own set of glasses.

That’s the question of the year, isn’t it?

Instead she said, “Oh, thinking is all. Lot’s on my mind.”

It had only been a day since the incident with Reggie and Felicity had not thought of

much else in the meantime. However, today she was meant to see Malin, and now had

another problem on her mind. She understood that everyone had issues and that Malin

especially, blew hot and cold when it came to her, but his behaviour the other night had been

unacceptable. She finally saw him pedal up the side alley of the pub on his bike.

She waited until he had a few minutes to get into the kitchen and get settled. George

had been appalled on hearing what had happened after the opening party, and on Felicity’s

cue, managed to make herself scarce. George whispered into her ear on the way by, “Punch

him. I totally would. I’ll pretend he ran into one of the pans.” Felicity snickered and turned to

look through the pass at Malin.

Her voice was quiet but resolute, “I have something I need to say to you about the

other night.”

Malin put down the knife he’d been holding and looked at her, “Okay.”

“I know things between us aren’t always clear, but you have been to my house quite a

few times and never once have I made you feel unwelcome. This is in spite of the fact that

anytime we are on the sofa bed it’s a major inconvenience to my sister.”

“No,” he admitted, “you haven’t.”

“Right. Well, it was hurtful and humiliating that someone I am close with would be so

incredibly cold and disrespectful and…and that’s all I had to say.”

Malin sighed and looked as apologetic as she had ever seen him be, “I am truly sorry.

I don’t know what else to say.”

“That’s enough I guess, I had to say something or hate myself forever.”

“Fe, I AM very sorry.”

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Felicity was a little disconcerted that there wasn’t one ounce of sarcasm or

defensiveness in his tone, so all she simply said was, “Thank you.” She walked out of the

room to find George who had been ready to punch him herself if Felicity couldn’t manage it.

She was outside by the back shed sitting on a tree stump from the wood pile having a

smoke. She wordlessly gave one to Felicity and waited for her to light it.

“He apologised.”

George harrumphed in disapproval.

Felicity was ashamed of herself and she knew she should be. Giving herself so much

to someone who treated her poorly defied every bit of the good sense she prided herself on

having. The fact that she loved him didn’t make any sense. All she knew was that she did and

couldn’t stop no matter how much she might want to. She said as much to George, feeling the

need to defend herself.

“I do understand that we don’t choose who we love, necessarily. But he can’t treat

you like that, so I’m glad that you at least stood up for yourself.”

“I am too.”

Malin popped his head out the door, “Hey, I’m heading out for a few minutes. Got an

errand to run.”

George and Felicity both protested at the same time, “But you just got here!”

“Looks like you have things covered. Back in a bit.”

George rolled her eyes, “Unbelievable.”

The girls walked back into the pub as he left. There was no one around, so George

took a seat on a bar stool, and Felicity polished glasses while they talked. Malin returned

within the hour, strolling through the front door with a liquorice hanging out of his mouth and

a bag full of candy in his hand.

“Sweets? That’s the ‘errand’ you had to run?” George said with disgust.

“I’m a growing boy, I need my sugar.”

Felicity grabbed at the bag to look inside. “You have red liquorice, my favourite! Can

I have one please?”

“Nope, not a chance.”

She pouted a bit, “Thanks for nothing.”

He took the bag back and sauntered to the kitchen.

George shook her head, “I’m not sure I’m going to miss him when he’s gone.”

Felicity laughed, “Probably not.” She knew she would, though.

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* * * * *

The day was dragging and with Gio and Malin holed up in the kitchen, George and

Felicity were content to sit outside the back-door sipping coffees and smoking. Suddenly,

there was a knock on the door from the inside which made them both jump. All Felicity could

see was a hand come through the open mail slot. The hand was holding one of the coveted

red liquorices. She took it with a big smile at George and the hand disappeared.

She yelled “Thank you!” through the slot.

“I hate you!” was the distant reply.

Chapter 22

Felicity had left work early to spend some time with some of her uni friends, which

served as a sobering reminder that she was woefully behind on starting her final research

project. They were playing pool and having drinks at the Southern Belle, when Wolfy and

Mass messaged that there was a party going on after closing. Felicity let the guilt slide away

as it appeared that a rare lock-in was happening. The concept of a lock-in had been explained

to Felicity during her early days at the pub as a private party that sometimes occurred once

the doors of the pub were locked. No drinks were ‘sold,’ but money was put behind the bar as

a credit so the drinking could continue after the legal licensing time.

Felicity said goodbye to her friends, who decided not to accompany her, and made her

way the short distance back to her pub. She used her key and walked into the bar to see Mass

smoking a cigarette, the curtains pulled tightly closed, and a group of staff and patrons at the

big table by the door. The strangers were attractive females chatting to Malin and Nero.

Felicity could see why they’d been allowed to stay and rolled her eyes. Boys!

Felicity gave Mass a hug and asked her what on earth she was thinking with the lit

cigarette. Nero, as an ex-smoker, hated the smell, but there he was chatting away and not

giving a damn.

“Nero brought me the ashtray,” she answered, “he doesn’t care.”

Felicity raised her eyebrows and noticed that Wolfy was still manning the bar. She

walked over to him while he was writing something down on receipt tape.

“What’s going on here?” she said with a laugh.

He held up the tape with a long list of drinks on it in answer.

“Holy Crap!”

“Yeah, and they’re still going strong.”

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“Have people been paying or is this all going on the boys’ tab?”

“Malin put in forty and those girls twenty each some time ago, but I think they’re all

way past that now.”

He gave her a wicked smile, “And now that you’re here, I’m off duty.” He grabbed an

already filled pint and went to sit down with the girls.

“Thanks a lot!”

Felicity got herself a drink and sat with Mass at the corner of the bar so she could hop

up if anyone needed anything. She lit a cigarette with Mass and felt brazen smoking inside.

They’d have to air it out tomorrow before service. Reprimanding herself for the overly-

responsible thought, she glanced over at the table where Malin was sitting between two of the

girls and saw him staring steadily in her direction. She looked away, refusing to go anywhere

near the table of shameless flirting.

Felicity was enjoying lively conversation but was interrupted as Nero motioned to her

for a new bottle of wine and a vodka soda lime. Felicity excused herself, made the drinks, and

then got caught in a conversation from behind the bar with Nero, Wolfy, and the girls. They

seemed nice enough, and Felicity was her normal chatty self, but was wishing terrible things

on the girl sitting closest to Malin. She could feel his eyes on her and it was only making her

more annoyed. He could come to talk to her if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Everyone else in

the room had gathered in the vicinity to join in the banter, but ever on-task Felicity decided

there were way too many empty glasses on the table. She checked out of the conversation and

walked around to clear them.

She was tired, but with so many people still around and the pub in a disastrous state,

there was no way she was leaving. She decided it was time for a bathroom break, and was

about to turn the toilet light on when she heard Malin and Mass’s voices outside. The one

thing you learned very quickly was to watch what you said and where you said it.

Conversations in the alley could be heard, clear as a bell, from the ladies’ toilets and the

office. Felicity leaned against the wall and listened after hearing her name.

“I don’t think you realise that it might be upsetting or disrespectful for her to watch

you fawn all over some other girl right in front of her.” Mass’s voice drifted through the wall.

“I was simply having a conversation; I don’t see what the problem is. Sometimes it’s

nice to talk to someone outside of this place; something I don’t do very often.”

“I think it was a bit more than just a friendly conversation, Malin, and you haven’t

spoken to Felicity all night. Considering what’s happened between you guys, you don’t think

that’s at all hurtful?”

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“I appreciate your concern for your friend, but she’s a big girl and she can take care of

herself. Besides, there’s nothing going on between us really, and it’s not going any further.”

Felicity felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She had hoped that his behaviour had

been an indicator that he was finding his footing with whatever their relationship was turning

into. Apparently not. She heard one of them come back in, so she quickly finished what she’d

originally gone in there to do. Shoving her feelings as far away as they would go she went

back out to clean up. It was after 4 a.m., the list of drinks to put through the till tomorrow was

a mile long. Thankfully, people were leaving. Nero stumbled upstairs, the Ponce and Wolfy

left separately with one girl each. Mass stayed to help her clean and together they finished in

about thirty minutes. The sun was well on its way to being up.

Malin had curled up on the long church bench and fallen fast asleep with his mouth

open and one foot over the end. Felicity walked over and looked at him, considering whether

she should wake him and send him home. She decided to leave him be. Surely Nero would

wake him before opening time tomorrow.

* * * * *

Felicity heeded Friend Fox’s warning and did not venture back through the door, but

it took everything she had not to do so. She had faith that he had taken care of Reggie as

promised but she missed him desperately and spent every spare brain cell on trying to figure

out what to do. She was enjoying that everything had settled into a nice rhythm at the pub.

With the boys gone to the VS, the day shifts were quiet with only George and Gio for

company. The nights were slow with the Olympics going on and the whole city avoiding

public transport. The routine was only making things worse because it gave her far too much

time to think.

Deb was working the night shift with her that night and Felicity was excited to see

her. Deb had been around less with auditions and shows taking her away more and more.

“Hey, can we have a quick chat outside?” Deb walked into the bar, giving Felicity a

hug.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to see if George minds covering the busy bar.”

Felicity motioned to a very empty pub and they both laughed. They took a seat at the

little table Nero had set outside for them last week.

“What’s up?” Felicity asked.

Deb took a deep breath and Felicity felt her stomach drop, suddenly afraid of what she

had to say.

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“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I want for the future and I’ve made a few

decisions.”

Felicity felt sick now.

Deb continued, “I went to acting school and while working here I stopped focusing on

that like I should be. I have decided it would be best for me to give my notice so I can pursue

things related to my future. I’ll be leaving at the end of the month.”

Felicity had a hard and fast rule about crying at work, but that was out the window.

The tears came whether she wanted them to or not.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” she sobbed. “I’m so happy for you to do what

you want to do and I always knew that eventually each and every single one of you would

move on. I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

Deb got out of her chair to hug her crying friend, which only made Felicity cry even

more. She had finally gotten things settled down at the pub and now she would be losing the

only other person who worked as often and as hard as she did. She wasn’t sure why the news

had hit her so hard but Deb felt as much like a piece of the pub as any of the fixtures. It

would be like a big portion of it was being torn away.

Felicity wiped her face and apologised. “I’m sorry, I’m just so sad about you going.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I certainly wouldn’t want you to be happy to see the back of me, but

you’re going to be fine. This place is so you, and I’ll be back in to visit often enough.”

“I know, but it’s not the same, and now I have to find someone good enough to

replace you.”

Deb smirked, “Well that’s not going to happen, is it?”

Felicity laughed through her tears, trying to pull it together. They lit cigarettes and

chatted about Deb’s ideas for her future. Felicity truly was happy for her to be moving

forward. George wandered outside and Felicity looked up askingly.

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s still no one. It’s a ghost town in there.”

George sat down with them. “So what’s the news?”

Deb told her what she’d told Felicity and that set Felicity off again into a new round

of tears. She excused herself to fix her face in the bathroom, unwilling to think about Deb

leaving anymore. They still had a couple of weeks and she needed to focus on finding new

staff, again.

* * * * *

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She knew her response to Deb leaving was more intense than it should have been.

How did she explain it was more than Deb quitting? Her leaving marked a change that

Felicity wasn’t ready for. It meant, too, that as much as she wanted to ignore moving forward

that it was going to happen whether she liked it or not. She knew by choosing the pub that

people would go and her life there would reinvent itself over and over but she wasn’t ready

for it to happen so quickly. The only positive was that she and Kimmy would be vacating the

Doll’s House that Nero owned. Felicity wondered if Nero needed a new renter, as she and

Leanna would be perfectly happy to volunteer. She broached the topic with him when she

stopped by the VS on her way to work a few days later. He had intended to fix it up a bit and

rent it for market rent but told her that he would think about it. She and Leanna were quickly

running out of time before the end of their current lease.

Nero took advantage of the fact that she was available to give her the daily deposit to

take into the bank in Hammersmith. She didn’t mind, she had to take her deposit in anyway.

She knew there were plans to open new pubs after the VS, and she wanted to be as involved

their businesses as she much as she could be. She wasn’t officially working that day, so she

got a little shopping time in after the bank stop. She had plans to meet up with Wolfy and

Malin later at the Southern Belle. She found a very flattering black maxi dress that she

changed into right in the store, some other odds and ends, and made her way back to the pub

to drop off the deposit slip and money bag.

She walked up to find Maddy, Gio, and Malin all sitting at one of the front patio

tables having drinks.

“I’m glad to see everyone hard at work on this lovely day,” she said wryly. She gave

Maddy a quick hug hello.

“Don’t you look stunning!” Maddy said, motioning to the new dress.

“Yes, you look particularly lovely today,” Gio added.

“Aw, thanks! It was time for a new dress. I think I’ve worn everything else I own

about fifty times here.”

Malin, who had been silent up to this point, looked over and said, “I don’t know about

all of that. I’d more like to know what cauldron you’ve been stirring today?”

Maddy gasped, Gio laughed and reprimanded him. “Wow, Malin, haven’t you ever

heard ‘if you can’t say anything nice’…?”

Felicity was unfazed by his witch reference. She knew it was a nice dress.

She politely excused herself and walked in to drop off the bag and check on the day

staff. It happened to be Wolfy, who was currently shirtless.

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“Oh Lordy, what is going on in here?!” Felicity didn’t know whether to laugh or be

cross.

“Hey boss! What do you think of the new uniform?” Wolfy grinned.

“I definitely won’t be trying it out,” Felicity smirked, “I think it’ll probably help with

tips, but you might be out of a job if Nero or the Ponce catches you like that behind the bar.

Put your shirt on!”

“But it’s so hot!”

“Then prop the doors open and you’ll have some air in here.”

He wasn’t wrong, it was abnormally hot for a British summer and the pub was

miserable to be in during the day.

“Are we still on for tonight?” Felicity asked.

“Yes, meet us here at 9 p.m.”

“Cool, I’m going home to take a quick nap.”

* * * * *

Felicity yawned as she walked back up to the pub later that night. She refused to go in

for fear she’d get roped into working. She had come in for dinner a couple of nights before

and the kitchen had been overrun with an unusually large number of diners for a Tuesday.

She had simply gone back to check on her table’s food and was stuck at the ticket board for

over an hour trying to direct food leaving the kitchen. She had seen the Ponce do it a few

times before, but fully understood how needed it was to have someone managing the tickets

and the food when it was busy. Somehow, her forty hours a week never ended up being forty.

Many hours were never put on her timecard as she felt it was her job to take care of things

whether on the rota or not. She really didn’t mind, when she was committed she gave

everything she had.

Not tonight, though! She waited for Malin and Wolfy to come out and they headed

over to get a pool table. Despite Malin’s rude comment earlier, they were having a glorious

time not being at work and Felicity chose not to hold it against him.

Wolfy made the breaking shot on their third game, “I hear Deb is leaving.”

Felicity sighed internally, she still didn’t want to think about it. “Yes, at the end of the

month.”

“So this would be a bad time to mention I’ve been thinking I might need to give my

notice as well?”

Felicity was horrified and stared him down, trying to see if he was serious or not.

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He saw the look on her face, “Okay okay, not funny.”

“No not AT ALL funny.” She was relieved that he appeared to be kidding.

“In all seriousness though, Nero and the Ponce have asked if I might be interested in

being the deli manager over at the VS when it picks up a bit more.”

“I’ll not have it!”

“I’d be glad to have you around!”

Malin and Felicity spoke at the same time. She glared at him.

“No poaching my staff!” she said with a fake pout.

“If the offer is good enough, I could quit my other job and only work one, though,

which would be a nice change.”

Felicity understood that part and at least he’d be right around the corner, available for

shift coverage if necessary and breakfasts at his flat as they normally did.

After the last game, with Wolfy the clear winner, they headed back toward the pub.

When they got to the park entrance they said their goodbyes. Wolfy lived past the pub and

Malin and Felicity were going through the park.

Wolfy looked at Malin, “Make sure she gets home okay.”

Felicity snorted, “I’ll get myself home. He couldn’t care less. Goodnight, mister!”

“I will. Night, mate,” Malin said, ignoring Felicity’s comment.

They were in the middle of talking about Will’s offer and halfway through the park

when Malin grabbed Felicity’s hand and pulled her towards him.

“Come home with me,” he breathed out between kisses.

Her eyes flew open and she gently pushed him away. Why are you such an idiot? She

wasn’t sure whether she meant him or herself with that thought.

“Why? So you can find some other way to be rude or humiliate me?”

“No! I said I was sorry about that and I meant it.”

“Didn’t you tell Mass that nothing else was going to happen between us?”

“I only said that because it isn’t any of her business.”

They started walking again without saying anything. It wasn’t far to the VS and when

they got to the door she let him kiss her again. She pulled away so he could unlock the door

and her good sense took hold.

“I should just go.” She started to turn away towards home when he grabbed her arm.

She looked at him questioningly.

“Please? Don’t go,” he said with a pleading look. He sighed and released her. “Ok,

well go if you want to I guess,” he looked dejectedly down at his feet.

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Felicity saw Reggie in him then, which shouldn’t have been a surprise. She grabbed

his hand and looked into his eyes, “I DON’T want to.”

“Okay then.”

They snuck quietly up the stairs by the toilets. Felicity scrunched her eyebrows to ask

him where they were going.

“I moved rooms so they could rent out the other one.”

She looked around when they got through the door. This one was nicer at any rate.

* * * * *

Felicity had gone home a little after midday to change and head straight back to the

VS to speak with Nero. He had called her asking for a chat about something. She walked

through the front doors to see a few lunch diners and Maree behind the bar. Maree saw

Felicity and motioned her over.

“Good morning,” Maree said with a sly smile. “Did you have a good night last

night?”

“Yeah sure, it was good. Had fun with Wolfy and Malin playing pool.”

“Aaaaaand?”

Felicity was confused to what else Maree might be referring.

“And what?” Felicity asked nervously.

“Where’d you spend the night?”

“Oh, geez. How could you possibly know that?”

Maree laughed and clapped her hands.

“Did you hear us come in?”

“No. I should probably tell you before you hear it elsewhere.”

“Tell me what?!”

“You know we’ve installed the security cameras now.”

Felicity nodded.

“Well, this morning the Ponce had to deal with a bit of unpleasantness in the

alleyway. Someone decided to do their business right outside of the side door.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, I had a good long laugh that the Ponce had to go out and clean up human shit

first thing this morning. It was hilarious.”

Felicity doubled over in hysterics.

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“The Ponce was understandably angry and on a mission to find the jerk that had done

it, so he reviewed the alley tapes this morning.”

Maree waited for the ramifications of this to sink in. It took Felicity a few seconds to

figure out what he would have seen happen on that tape.

“Oh, damn! Damn, damn, damn. What exactly did he see?”

“It was cute, really. We saw you guys walk up to the door, kiss, and then go in. I think

the Ponce’s words were, ‘Busted! Now we have them on camera.’”

Felicity’s heart sank. There was an unspoken agreement between her and Malin that

they’d rather not have the bosses know there was anything going on between two of their

staff members.

She put her head in her hands, “Anything else I should know?”

“Not really. He was being really obnoxious about it and tried fast-forwarding to find

out when you left but I stopped him around the 11a.m. mark and told him to knock it off.”

“Humiliating. Is he here now?”

“Nah, he left a while ago.”

“Great, but I’m sure Nero knows now, too.”

“Who cares, you’re both grown, and besides you don’t work in the same place

anymore.”

“Thanks for letting me know at any rate. Now I’ve got to go face the music.”

She walked to the garden where Nero was doing some work. He seemed perfectly

normal, not even the hint of a smirk. It was a short conversation anyway. Felicity walked

back out the front doors ten minutes later and rang Leanna immediately. He’d wanted to tell

her that he’d decided to let the Doll’s House to her and her sister at a reasonable rent. She

relayed the good news to Leanna on her way to her own pub.

Felicity walked through the back door and ran right into George who was on her way

out.

“Hi! Did you hear what happened at the VS?” Felicity said with a smirk.

“What? The fact that someone took a crap in the alley or that you and Malin were

caught making out?” George was also smirking.

Felicity’s face fell and she rolled her eyes, “Word travels fast ‘round these parts. I

meant the sheer hilarity of the Ponce having to clean up that kind of mess.”

“Yeah, well, pub walls hear everything. That, and the staff are very gossipy.” George

saw Felicity’s look of dismay. “Ah, who cares?! It’s not like Nero and the Ponce each haven’t

had their share of dalliances.”

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“You’re right. Still, embarrassing, though.”

“Only because it’s Malin.”

Felicity stuck her tongue out at George like a child, “Yeah, yeah.”

Chapter 23

Felicity had the morning off, but instead of doing something adventurous, she and

Leanna decided to sit out the rain in the pub and work on uni papers. Felicity’s dissertation

was due in a month’s time but she had been far too focused on other matters to fit in the

work. The same questions kept rolling around in her mind. It had only been a week since she

had last seen Reggie, but it felt like a lifetime. The question that plagued her, no matter what

she might be doing, was, “What was going to happen if Reggie and Malin were merged back

together?” She didn’t know and she was afraid to find out.

She and Leanna set up a work station at one of the tables and kept Kit company as she

worked. Felicity managed to get in a few solid hours of work and was about to get up for a

coffee, when she heard a yell come from the cellar. She set her mug down and hurried

through the bar to the top of the cellar stairs. George was coming back up the steps in a panic.

“Look, Felicity! The cellar’s flooding!”

Felicity was concerned to see four inches of water on the cellar floor that appeared to

be rising. “Oh, God! I’ll call Nero and the Ponce.”

Gio came running up the cellar stairs behind them, with soaked pants and feet. “I got

most of the fresh goods onto higher shelves so we don’t lose everything but I’m not sure how

high it’s going to go.”

Felicity nodded at him with her phone to her ear. She quickly let the Ponce know

what was going on and went to find some extra pink tubs per his instructions. She sat them at

the top of the stairs and then went to pace the front of the pub, waiting for the boys to arrive.

It only took ten minutes before their white truck came flying up the road and into the alley

parking space. She met them at the back door.

“How bad is it?” Nero asked on his way in.

“It’s risen a little, to about six inches.”

“It’s not the first time it’s happened, but last time we lost everything. It’s not the rain

exactly, it’s the drains. The water is backing up through them.”

“Great plumbing system! Gio moved as much as he could.”

Nero nodded and went down with the Ponce to see what was happening. The rain was

only getting heavier to make matters worse. The water level had risen visibly; the boys were

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wet up to their knees. Felicity rolled up her pant legs and decided to help, no matter how

disgusting the water looked. She, Gio, George, Ponce, and Nero formed an assembly line

through the cellar and up the stairs. Malin had cycled over to help and grabbed a full tub of

water from Felicity. It was tiring work for the next thirty minutes as they tried to keep the

water level under the second set of shelves. Everyone was in good spirits, however, finding

the situation comical…and disgusting. Felicity mentally said goodbye to her favourite pair of

flats as she knew they were destined for the rubbish bin after this.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, horrified at the yells and groans coming

from the Ponce and Nero. Felicity couldn’t see what was happening. She looked at George

and Gio, questioningly. They both shrugged.

“Ahhhhhhh, human feces! I picked up an actual turd.” Nero was heard bellowing

through the cellar.

The Ponce appeared through the doorway at the bottom of the stairs with a satisfied

grin on his face. “That’s what he gets for laughing at me yesterday,” he winked. “That’s also

what happens when the sewer system backs up.” He took a tub and sloshed back through the

water to continue with the bailing.

Felicity, Gio, and George couldn’t compose themselves, and were hardly able to lift

the tubs of water as they came by. Felicity couldn’t help but muse if the two events weren’t

karma or a metaphor of some kind. The giggles subsided as it sank in that the water she was

now soaked in was not just muddy.

The rain had let up and they managed to keep the water level below anything that

would have been ruined. Nero finally appeared at the bottom of the stairs and announced that

the danger had passed. He gave everyone permission to use the shower upstairs and Felicity

took him up on his offer. Luckily, she had a change of clothing with her for her shift. She was

scrubbed clean and descended the stairs, ready to sit back down and get more work done on

her paper. Nero met her at the bottom of the stairs. He was barking orders at everyone when

his attention turned to her.

“Come here,” he barked. He led her to the linens shelf outside the kitchen door and

started to pull aprons, tablecloths, and towels off the shelves, throwing them onto the floor in

a heap.

“This is absolutely unacceptable. Look at how these are thrown onto the shelves,

barely folded, not in any order whatsoever. You’re not doing your job or these would be in

better order.”

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He left the linens on the floor and told her to fix them while moving over to the

cutlery station. He started pulling the cutlery out one by one, identifying pieces that weren’t

where they should have been. He stormed through the rest of the prep area, ripping things

apart and yelling instructions at Felicity to get it in shape, or else. She didn’t dare cry, but she

wanted to, as she hurriedly folded and tidied in his wake.

He stopped for a second to look at her, “Why wasn’t this all done? You’re casually

sitting out there doing nothing while my pub is in shambles.”

“I wasn’t due on for two more hours and you’ve made it clear you don’t want me

working over 50 hours a week. I can’t cover the service shifts needed and do the behind-the-

scenes work that needs to be done. As it is, I barely put the hours I work on my time sheet.

With Deb leaving and Wolfy cutting his hours it’s only gotten harder.”

The look on her face seemed to mildly soften Nero’s rage. He rubbed his head with

his hand.

“Look, what do you need to make sure all of this is done?”

“I need another full-time person, preferably one that cares about this place as much as

I do.”

“I’m sorry but we don’t have the budget for that. I know this place is a lot of work and

we’ve been far too focused on the VS. It was supposed to be an opportunity for the Ponce to

get out on his own. I think I’ll be coming back here more often to make sure you have the

support you need and he can man that ship with Maree.”

Felicity brightened, thinking that it would be incredibly helpful to have him around.

The Ponce had been her go-to person; she hadn’t had much to do with Nero outside of pub

social events.

“I think that would be really helpful, thank you!”

“Alright, get this place cleaned up before dinner service. I need to go speak with the

Ponce and Maree.”

Felicity nodded, not trusting herself to say anything. After he left, she went out to

explain to Leanna what had happened and to pack up her computer. Leanna was less than

pleased that, once again, the boys demanded and Felicity complied.

“You need to stand up to him, Felicity!”

“What good is that going to do? It’s not usually this bad, I’m not sure what the

problem has been lately.”

“Fine, I just don’t like it.”

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“Honestly, if I didn’t have this project to do, I’d be a lot better off. I’m not getting to

it anyway, and I’m not getting things done well enough around here.”

“What are you saying?”

Felicity huffed, “I’m saying that I’m thinking about not finishing my degree. I’ve got

sponsorship and a job, and that was the point anyway, wasn’t it?”

Leanna’s face showed at least five different emotions, one after the other, until she

settled on livid.

“Have you lost your mind? Listen to me, sister dear, you did not spend $50,000 on an

education to throw it away right before the end. I’ll not allow it. I don’t care if I have to lock

you in a room, or half write it myself, you WILL finish.”

Felicity had forgotten how scary her mild-mannered sibling could be when she was

provoked. She wasn’t sure, between Leanna and Nero, which was the safer option right then.

She relented, “Okay, okay! I promise I will get it done, I need to work harder I

guess.”

Leanna still looked rather menacing, so Felicity told her she’d see her later and went

back to clean up the mess.

* * * * *

Later that night after dinner service, Nero arrived back at the pub and took a seat on

one of the bar stools. Felicity got him a Peroni and sat down next to him at his request with a

glass of wine.

“Look around,” he said, “The place looks stunning. You do a great job, but you can’t

let it slip, not for one minute. I built this place up from nothing and sure, I have high

standards. I may even be a bit of a tyrant.”

Felicity dared a laugh. Fortunately, he laughed with her.

“But I think that my methods work, and I’ll expect you to have the same standards.”

Felicity nodded, “I love this place. It’s my goal to learn how to maintain it perfectly

and to make sure the business grows. I hope you know that.”

Nero raised his glass to hers and they toasted to the future. “Right, I’m going to bed.

Hopefully together we’ll be able to run this place to perfection.”

Felicity bid him goodnight, hoping that this was the last she’d see of his temper.

* * * * *

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It was moving day for Leanna and Felicity. They crawled over and through boxes,

putting things away in their new little house. Deb and Kimmy had left the sweetest note on

the stove, wishing the new occupants as much happiness in the house as they had found. Nero

had promised to fix the mouldy shower tiles and repair a few other broken items, but he had

yet to do it. The girls didn’t mind, and knowing how busy he was, they didn’t expect him to

anytime soon.

When Felicity got to work that night, she thanked Nero again.

“Now you’re not allowed to fire me, because I am never moving again!”

Nero chortled as he sat down at the table he had reserved for the match. The rugby

was on and the pub was packed. It was a rare occasion when the TV screen was lowered for a

sporting event. The Ponce and Nero were camped out at a table full of friends and in good

spirits. Felicity was making sure everyone was well attended to and was laughing along with

the shenanigans going on when the phone rang.

“Hey, it’s Maree!”

“Hey! What’s going on?” Felicity could hear Maree sniffling and trying to keep it

together.

“Are the boys there?”

“Yes,” she said hesitantly.

“And they’re drinking? Again?”

“Yes, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that I’m the only one ever here! One of my staff didn’t show up for

their last three shifts. The Ponce said he’d cover, but I haven’t seen him. I haven’t eaten since

yesterday. I haven’t slept more than four hours at a time for the last three weeks. This is

supposed to be his responsibility, not just mine, but whenever I need him he’s off mucking

around with Nero.”

“I’m sorry, doll. Should I go get him? Is there anything I can do to help? I’ve got an

extra person here now. Should I send Mass over so you can at least have a break?”

Maree sighed, “That would be amazing. Don’t bother them, he can do what he likes.

But when this place tanks, it’s not going to be my fault.”

“Oh, honey. I thought everything was going great over there.”

“It’s not as busy as they hoped and I think they’re getting some pressure from the

brewery.”

Felicity now understood why Nero’s temper had a hair-trigger these days.

“Okay, well I’ll send her over. Let me know if you need anything else.”

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Felicity hung up the phone and looked over at her bosses, getting increasingly

intoxicated. She decided the Ponce should probably know that he was needed. When she

walked over to relay what was happening at the VS, the response was lacklustre. He shrugged

and said that Maree needed to learn to sort things out on her own. Felicity knew the weight of

trying to run an establishment all on your own and felt bad for Maree. There had been

nothing wrong with the shelf. She tried her best to keep everything in order but it was too

much for one person to handle. It had been easy to focus on detail when Deb, Maree, Nero,

and the Ponce had been committed to one pub, but they had left and she was alone, managing

it all herself with only a skeleton crew of part-timers. She also knew better than to push the

issue so she left it alone and went back to work. If they’d rather party than attend to business,

who was she to argue?

* * * * *

True to his word, Nero had started spending most days at the pub attending to the

garden, the laundry, and many of the details Felicity struggled to keep up with while

managing the busy night shifts. He also decided to close the pub for lunch during the week

until further notice. Business wasn’t booming enough to warrant being open before 5 p.m.

While this worked well for George, Gio, and the rest of the kitchen staff, it wasn’t ideal for

Felicity who would have to work doubles on both weekend days to keep up with the hours

she could put on her time card. She was only allowed to pay herself for service shifts, rarely

putting any extra hours on for prep time. During the slow mornings, she could get most things

done. Now she wasn’t sure how she would accomplish anything.

She and Nero had been getting along fine so she relaxed a bit, confident she was a

satisfactory job. Malin had dropped by on the Sunday morning to have a chat with Felicity

about the new pub and general business talk. They were sitting in the garden snug having a

cigarette. It was one of the best features of the garden. The three-sided room had a curtain to

close for privacy. Inside there was a cosy mattress to lounge on, an old piano, and a metal

trunk that served as a coffee table. Felicity was about to get up when Nero burst into the

garden.

“What in the hell are you two doing?”

“Having a chat,” Felicity answered calmly.

“I can’t believe you. I’ve told you a hundred times how disgusting it is when you

smoke in the snug. There are old cigarette butts all over. Who was supposed to clean the

garden last night? Did anyone teach them how to sweep properly?”

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“I’m, I’m not sure,” Felicity stuttered.

“I thought that you were going to keep up my standards, but this clearly isn’t working.

You’re doing my head in!”

Felicity felt panicky at his tone, “What do you mean ‘this isn’t working?’ Me as

manager?”

“Exactly. Get to work, see if you can manage that.”

Felicity walked into the pub to find the broom and ran into Malin. The confrontation

with Nero had left her shaken.

“What if they fire me, Malin?”

He seemed unperturbed. “They’re not going to fire you!”

“They could. What if they decide not to sponsor me? I haven’t been able to get them

to do anything towards the application and I’m running out of time!”

“They can’t not sponsor you, seriously. He’s just in one of his moods. I’ve been at the

receiving end loads of times.”

Felicity was not reassured. It felt like something had shifted and she didn’t like it one

bit.

The night shift did not improve Felicity’s feelings on the matter, as Nero only

managed to speak to her when he was yelling at her about something. Every time she left the

bar area for the back hallway he berated her for the flowers being wilted, the office being

disorganized, the printer not working. He was loud and Felicity struggled to cement a smile

on her face and serve customers as if nothing was wrong. She was exhausted and called last

orders early. If business was slow she had been told to go ahead and close early to cut down

on staff hours. There were only two tables in the room: one couple, and a larger table that had

stopped drinking some time ago.

She was going around clearing tables and doing closing duties with Kit when Nero re-

appeared at the door into the bar from his apartment upstairs.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Felicity was beaten down and answered meekly, “I called last orders since we’re not

that busy.”

“What in the hell is wrong with you?” he seethed.

“I’m sorry?”

“We have customers; why would we close early?”

Felicity tried to explain that they weren’t selling any drinks and she had made a

business decision based on his instructions to keep staff hours as low as possible.

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“You should be offering them coffees or after-dinner drinks and upselling. What’s

really going on here? Are you trying to run out of here to get over to the VS again?”

Felicity’s sense of injustice took over and she got angry herself. How he could think

she’d be irresponsible enough to lose out on business for any reason?

He was having none of her excuses, however, “Since it’s clear you’d rather be

somewhere else, just get out.”

“But…”

“GET OUT! I’ll close the bar myself. Get the hell out of here.”

Felicity tried to pull together a little dignity. She walked by him, got her things, and

left.

She immediately called George who was off that night but in the area. She rushed

over to meet Felicity at the park between the pubs. They sat down on the grass and George

pulled out a bottle of wine. They didn’t have any glasses so they took turns swigging from the

bottle. Pure class…oh how the mighty have fallen. Felicity was feeling sick to her stomach,

still angry, and very sorry for herself as she relayed the day’s events to George.

“I don’t understand what changed. I’m still working exactly as I was during my trial

and I could do no wrong then.”

“I wish I knew what to tell you. All I can say is to keep your head down, focus on the

job, and hope for the best.”

“It’s almost August. I have to be sponsored by November or that’s it for me anyway.”

“I think you should talk to Nero. Explain the situation and see what he has to say

about it.”

Felicity considered this and decided to write Nero an email before she went to bed. At

least he’d have it then and she was much more articulate when writing than when put on the

spot. Felicity wasn’t quite ready to leave after they finished the wine, so she hugged George

goodbye and sat in the empty park for a while longer. It wasn’t the wisest choice to be there

by herself, but she needed some time to think. Reasoning that from where she was sitting, she

could see anyone approaching through either entrance so she wasn’t too worried about being

assaulted in the dark. Because of this, she was not expecting the voice she heard behind her.

She jumped and quickly turned around to see that Friend Fox had snuck up on her.

“Did you have to scare the life out of me?” she harrumphed. When he didn’t say

anything, she continued, “How is Reggie, is he okay?”

“What does it matter to you? You’ve not rushed back to check on him.”

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The fox’s admonishment stung because there hadn’t been a moment she wasn’t

thinking about him.

“I don’t know what to do! You said not to go back until I was willing to do what

needed to be done and I don’t know what that is.”

“How is sticking your head in the sand working out for you?”

Felicity’s world seemed to be disintegrating as much as the world through the door,

with no real explanation.

“Not the best, I suppose.”

“Did you ever consider that the worlds are tied? What happens in one affects the

other.”

Felicity was about to lose her composure between the horrible day and another cryptic

conversation with an infuriating fox.

“I don’t know what that means and today is really not the day for this nonsense.”

“Oh, it’s nonsense, is it? You’re the one sitting by yourself in a park having a

conversation with a fox. It seems perfectly sensical to me.”

Sensical?

“If you do not act in your own life, if you do not do the things you know you must,

fate will take over and remove your choice.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know what to do?”

“Stop lying to yourself! You do know; you always have.”

“I’m not ready.” Felicity put her head through her bent knees, hating that he was right

and wishing he would leave her alone in her misery.

“Then watch your worlds collapse. Your indecision will lose you everything.”

When Felicity finally looked up, the fox was gone, her face wet with tears of

frustration.

Chapter 24

The next morning Felicity was awoken by a call from Nero asking her to come in for

a talk. She sent an email the night before apologising for what, to her, was a

misunderstanding. She reiterated her commitment to the pub, explained the short timeline she

was on for sponsorship, and asked for a concrete answer about her future. She all nerves

walking through the front door of the empty pub, but was resigned and ready to hear

whatever Nero had to say. She found him behind the bar making his own coffee. They went

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out to the back garden, taking opposite seats. Felicity sat with her hands in her lap and waited

for him to speak.

“I got your email last night and it’s clear we need to have a chat.”

Felicity nodded, fidgeting with her skirt.

“I was on the phone with immigration this morning and it doesn’t appear that we

could sponsor you even if we wanted to. Was there something I was missing?”

“Well, I told you both when I started that I would have to go in under a more

administrative title. I thought with how well the business seems to be expanding that would

not be an issue.”

“That’s the thing, business isn’t going that well. I’m going to tell you something that

no one else knows except for Maree and the Ponce. After reading your email, it seems only

fair that you should know too. We’ll be speaking with Malin later, so I’d appreciate it if you

wouldn’t say anything until we do.”

“Of course. I won’t say anything to anyone.”

“The VS is really struggling and the brewery has decided to sell off the building

instead of giving us more time to turn a profit.”

She was shocked, unsure of what to say. Felicity knew that business had not been as

good as they’d hoped, but she assumed that it would pick up eventually once they had

worked out the kinks.

“What’s the timeline for closing it down?”

“Six weeks, about. Now this means that I’m going to have to bring the Ponce back

over here and are shifting Maree to a role more suited to her interests. She’ll be taking care of

marketing and events here. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Not exactly. You’ll still need a manager, won’t you? You had one before when you

were all here.” Felicity’s stomach was churning.

“No, I need a place for the Ponce as he is co-owner.”

None of this was making sense to Felicity. Nero and the Ponce did not work service

shifts, therefore at least one or two full-time staff would be needed.

“Alright, I understand about the sponsorship and the management roll, but I can still

stay on until the end of my visa while I look for something else?”

“Of course, we’ll still need the hours covered. Frankly, we’re too different and at this

point, I’d much rather take care of the management of this place myself.”

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“I’m not sure how we’re different. I’ve managed this place exactly as you and the

Ponce trained me to run it. I’m sorry, but I thought I was doing a great job per your own

words. I’m not sure what changed.”

Nero put his head down as if he were embarrassed to give her an honest answer, “I

left the day-to-day up to the Ponce in the past. Now that we’re working more closely

together, it doesn’t fit.”

Felicity was offended and angry, but couldn’t disagree. She couldn’t stand his volatile

nature. She couldn’t win at a game where he was constantly changing the rules depending on

his mood and it was insanity to try. She held it in, however, and simply said, “Well, I am

happy to stay here and help you out through the holiday season until my visa is up. I’ll let you

know if I find anything else but I do appreciate you finally being honest with me. I have only

ever wanted the best for this place.”

“Hey, maybe we can get Malin to marry you and then problem solved,” Nero laughed.

Felicity’s face turned red and said sarcastically, “Yes, I can see that happening. Um…

one final thing though…you were paying me less all summer to save towards the sponsorship

costs. I hate to ask, but I’m really going to need the money.”

Nero looked clueless, “Oh, we were supposed to pay for that?”

Unbelievable!

“Yes, you and the Ponce said you’d take care of it by deducting little bits out of my

salary.”

“The best I can do is give you a few hundred extra, here and there over the next

month or so. Would that be okay?”

Felicity was grateful, “Yes, I’d really appreciate it.”

They stiffly continued discussing who would be doing the ordering, scheduling, and

her other normal duties. Nero was taking back the responsibility of Monday beer line

cleanings, the stock take, etc. Felicity was to still act as a senior member of staff, but was no

longer the manager per say. She was stunned, but kept it together as she walked back inside.

The face of her whole world changed in a matter of days. She ran into Malin in the hallway

unexpectedly. She couldn’t help herself, blurting, “They’re not going to sponsor me and I’m

not the manager anymore either.”

He set down the paperwork he was carrying, “I’m sorry what? You’ve got to be

joking. They have to sponsor you.”

He pulled her outside to the street, seeing that she was struggling to maintain her

composure. The curb was their new smoking area as Nero had thrown a fit last week and

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banned them being outside the backdoor anymore. He offered her a cigarette and they both

took a seat. Felicity relayed most of the conversation.

“I can’t fucking believe it!” Malin finally said in a quiet rage. “After running you to

death all summer, now they’re just taking it all away? Who’s going to run the place then?”

Felicity was hesitant to say anything about the closure of the VS since she had said

she wouldn’t. She looked at him earnestly and shook her head, “That’s all I can say.”

“Oh, come on, you can tell me anything.”

“I said I wouldn’t.”

“Then I’ll guess, and you can nod. Hmm. The VS is closing.”

“So you know already.”

“I’ve had a suspicion since we haven’t been very busy. We’ve lost our suppliers

because Nero and the Ponce refuse to pay any of the bills. The Ponce has cut the menu down

and they’re bringing in Tesco and Waitrose bags every single day.”

Felicity was stunned, “You’re joking. Tesco? People are paying for Tesco meals?”

“Yes, it’s awful. You know the new soup at the VS? It’s not fresh, we open up a

ready-made Waitrose soup and heat it up.”

She laughed, “This must be killing you.”

“You have no idea. It’s appalling that we’re charging people £24.95 for low-grade

fillet. I need to get out of this place.”

Drama aside, Felicity was enjoying the perfectly casual moment between them as they

lit yet another cigarette and ran through the logistics of the other pub closing.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, taking another long drag.

“I don’t know. Look for something else, I guess. They haven’t left me a lot of time. I

stopped looking when I was promoted, now most of the deadlines for graduate jobs that

sponsor have passed.”

“You’ll find something. You have to.”

Felicity was less than confident.

* * * * *

She spent the next two hours calling Leanna and her other friends to fill them in on

the news. It didn’t get any easier to process the finality of the conversation even with

repetition. She had gone home to accomplish a few tasks and a quick job search before

returning to the pub later that night for work. Nero was on his way to the VS when she

walked in. He handed her the new staff schedule, the stock numbers with order lists, and

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instructed her to place the orders for him. She took one look at the lists and was dismayed to

see that they were insufficient for what normal volume required. They were not to the

standard that the Ponce had trained her to ensure was on hand. I guess that’s no longer my

concern. He also showed her the new credit card machine that had come as they were

switching banks. It had been there for a couple of weeks already, but every time she

requested that he or the Ponce set it up, they had something more important to be doing.

“Should I be installing this?” she asked, unsure of his purpose in calling her attention

to the unopened box.

“No, we’ll get around to it later. I simply wanted you to be aware it will be changing.”

“Good, because the other one has been on the fritz lately.”

“There are also two new staff members coming in for the shift tonight. One has

already done their trial at the VS, but the other will be doing theirs tonight. I sent Wolfy over

to the VS since they will be here.”

Anxiety set it, Fridays were their busiest night and she had already whittled the

coverage down to a skeleton crew per instructions to cut staff costs. She could have done it

with Wolfy and Kit who were seasoned workers, but Kit and two new people…there was no

way this wasn’t going to be a disaster. She was now just a regular member of staff like

everyone else though, so she gritted her teeth, determined to make the best of it.

The night started out manageable, with the majority of the work falling to Kit as

Felicity was trying to serve tables while barking instructions and answering questions for the

two new people. There had been a steady stream of customers coming through the door and

by the start of dinner service at 7 p.m. the pub and garden were packed. Felicity couldn’t even

think straight as she tried to gracefully race around the pub clearing plates, getting food out of

the kitchen, and fixing little mistakes the new people were making. Mistakes were typical

when neither of them had worked even one shift in this pub. It took time to get used to the

specifics of ringing things onto the till, how to place orders, and where everything was

located. They would have made it through the night relatively intact if disaster hadn’t struck

at 9 p.m. when most of the diners were finished and waiting to pay for their meal.

The credit card machine ceased to respond to the external bank connection. Usually,

pulling the battery and rebooting the machine fixed the problem immediately, but not this

time. Felicity sat it down and apologised to the customer waiting. They happened to have the

largest tab in the house, and there was nothing she could do but smile apologetically in their

direction every few seconds while serving other impatient customers. After a second attempt

to reboot the machine the customer got nasty with her and told her he would be leaving and

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not paying the bill. His rude manner pushed her over the edge and Felicity lost her cool. All

pretence of congeniality gone, she stared him down and inform him that he would be paying

and she would be keeping his credit card until he did.

She called over to the VS in desperation, finally getting the Ponce to answer. It was

pointless. He told her that it wasn’t his problem, and that he had enough to worry about at the

VS. Sure, because microwaving soup takes so much work! She shouted at him in her head

while dialling Nero’s number for the fourth time. He finally answered and she quickly

explained they were incredibly busy and without a working credit card machine. He was

nowhere near the pub and wouldn’t be any time soon, offering to send the Ponce instead.

Felicity calmly explained the Ponce had already told her he wouldn’t be coming. Nero huffily

told her to go get the paper credit card slips and take everyone’s details manually.

She did as instructed and walked each of the staff quickly through the information

they needed to have on each slip. She spent most of the evening apologising: to customers,

George and Gio, the new staff. It had been a train wreck, finally calming down right before

last orders. Felicity was starting to get a handle on things when Nero breezed through the

front door. He was in a temper which was like lighting a match in a room full of gasoline. He

immediately muttered that it didn’t look very busy to him while checking the sales amount on

the till. Felicity was livid. How did he not understand that a full pub was too much for two

people and two basically useless new staff to handle? They used to schedule five experienced

employees for a Friday night and would still have trouble keeping up with the volume. She’d

been asked to redo the schedules repeatedly if she scheduled too lightly or had someone on

who might be shaky.

Felicity excused herself after informing the other three that she was stepping away.

She hadn’t been able to use the restroom even once all evening. When she came back out

Nero was going through the written charge slips.

“Come here!” he snapped. Felicity took a deep breath and tried to make herself as

small as possible. “Can you explain to me why half of these don’t have the correct

information on them?”

He held up one after the other to show her. “This one is missing the expiration date.

This one is missing the security code. There are only a few that have everything we need on

them. I’m glad to see I’ve employed people who are so shit at their jobs they can’t even

follow simple instructions.”

“I’m sorry, I did explain what we needed to write down, but tonight was an absolute

nightmare.”

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“You’re sorry. I’ll tell you now that whatever bills we can’t get payment for are going

to be coming out of everyone’s pay for your incompetence.”

He started ripping open the box containing the new card machine to get it set up.

Felicity was humiliated as Nero had been loud enough for most of the close customers to hear

what was going on. He dismissed her like a peasant. Figuring she was already in trouble, she

snuck down the alley, past the side window. She smoked two to calm her nerves, sprayed

herself with perfume when she got back in, and avoided the bar like the plague. The trial guy

had to go so she released him as he was already well over the three hours allotted for a trial

shift. She, Kit, and the new girl worked around Nero in silence trying to get things in order

and ready for closing.

He got fed up with the machine and walked out of the bar after explaining

venomously that there were still ten tickets that had not been paid for. Felicity picked it up

and started trying different methods of entering the information. Kit understood her

predicament and left her to it. She’d been working there long enough to instruct the new girl

on closing duties. Felicity put five through successfully without an expiration date, although

felt a little concerned for the customer that she could do so, so easily. However, they had

signatures and card numbers as the written agreement on the bill. She was down to the last

three receipts after an hour’s worth of creative thinking. The largest of the bills tabs was her

biggest concern and nothing she tried was working. It was over £300. She decided to Google

the guy’s name, successfully finding a business phone number for him. She called and left a

message, hopeful that he would be honest enough to call back the next day with billing

information.

She relayed her success to Nero who was somewhat appeased. She was elated when

he went upstairs for the night and they could finish the closing duties in peace. Maree called

as they were ready to go and invited them all over to the VS for after work drinks. That

sounded like just the thing to cap off a terrible evening. She and Kit headed over through the

park and into the side door. Mass and Maree were grabbing bottles of wine and glasses as

they walked in. They helped transport everything out to one of the picnic tables in the garden.

Malin joined the group and with everyone in an exhausted, silly mood, there were plenty of

laughs to be had. Felicity felt significantly better with how indignant everyone was over her

sponsorship situation. Malin and Mass decided they were in sibling-love and were busy

creating a brother/sister walking handshake that seemed to involve a complicated series of

steps, turns, and hand-slapping when Felicity noticed the time. It was well after 1 a.m. and

being a residential area she and Maree shut the party down and sent everyone home.

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Exhaustion set in and Felicity wasn’t overjoyed at facing the longer walk up to

Shepherd’s Bush. She asked Malin if she could sleep on the floor in his room. He agreed so

they locked up the pub and went upstairs. Felicity’s true intentions were to sleep on the floor

with a blanket but he had other plans.

* * * * *

They stood at the window sharing a smoke later and as Felicity felt she already had

very little to lose she decided it was time to put all her cards on the table.

“Malin, can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Well…this keeps happening and we are obviously attracted to each other. I don’t

understand why we’re not dating. Are you interested in someone else?”

“No, I don’t have time for any of that.”

“Then, what?”

“I’ve thought about it a lot. I have. We do get on well. I think you’re pretty, funny,

and smart. It seems like it would be so natural and easy to just be together.” He paused,

exhaling a could into the cool, night air. “We’re the perfect couple on paper.”

“Okay…”

“I don’t know. There’s something in my head that won’t let me. I’ve tried to work it

out but I can’t get myself to jump into something with you.”

“It’s not your head that should be convinced, Malin, I want your heart.”

“Eh,” he grunted, flicking his cigarette out the window to the alley below, “The

heart’s just a muscle.”

Felicity laughed wryly, and felt a sob travel up from her chest, expanding in her

throat. If only he knew. The heart is actually a beautiful little bird and another incarnation of

you has yours.

She knew then that there was no ignoring the Princess, the fox, or any of what she’d

seen in the world behind the door. It was clear that whatever the consequences of reuniting

his two halves might be, she would have to try if either of them were ever going to be happy.

The certainty of what she must do took over and she quickly dressed.

“Are you leaving?” Malin asked with concern. “You don’t have to.”

“Thanks, but I need to. If we can’t be anything more than this, then this is going to

have to be the last time.”

Malin sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, “Alright, I can respect that.”

She walked over to him and ran her fingers through his curls.

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“Goodnight, Malin.”

Leaning down to kiss him, she felt her insides rip to pieces knowing it might be the

last time. Whatever the outcome, she knew she had to go through her door and face what was

waiting on the other side. She moved quietly down the stairs and slipped out, practically

running back to the other pub. Stopping to catch her breathe outside the back door, Felicity

tried to unlock it as quietly as possible. She moved through the dark, familiar enough with the

layout to make her way to the landing without any lights on. The door was already there as if

it had been waiting for her arrival.

Chapter 25

She stood on the landing in the quiet, dark of the old pub, her finger sliding over the

ring that had started to give off a tiny bit of light in the darkness. It only took a second for her

to think of what she wanted to do. She ran up the stairs to the locked study, tried the door,

and it gave way. She unleashed the rage and frustration of the last few months on the room.

She knocked books of off shelves, overturned chairs, and hurled each of the knick-knacks at

the table of plants. Spying the familiar eyes staring at her from the painting of Reggie’s

father, she pushed up on the heavy frame and toppled it to the floor. She grabbed the fire

poker and stomped over to it and took swing after swing, each time imagining Nero, the

Ponce, the Princess, and even Friend Fox’s face in alternating sequence.

“I hope you intend to pay for that out of your earnings.” Malin’s mother, in her old

woman form, was standing in the doorway with an amused look on her face.

“Put it on my tab,” Felicity bit back, “You and Nero can go…”

The old woman interrupted her, “Now, now. A lady minds her language.”

“I’m sorry, your majesty.” She made, what she hoped, was a sarcastic curtsey.

“You were trying to get my attention, and you have succeeded. Can I assume you

have decided to accept my offer?”

Fire flashed in Felicity’s eyes, “Yes, yes I have.”

“Excellent news, my dear. I am so very happy to hear it.”

“So how do we do this?”

“Please contain yourself for a moment, these things cannot be rushed.” With that, she

held out her hand and the sceptre appeared. The fox’s pearl flashed and immediately the pub

faded around them, replaced by four stone walls. They appeared to be in a dungeon, complete

with barred cells and sconces with drippy candles along the walls. Felicity felt nauseous.

“Where are we?”

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“Back at Brandenburgh house, in the lower floors. Quaint, isn’t it?”

Quaint it was not. There was a fire burning in the corner fireplace of the large room, a

stone table in the centre, and what looked like various ancient torture devices scattered

around. Creepy was the word that came to mind. The princess snapped her fingers and a

velvet pillow and blanket appeared on the table. She motioned for Felicity to lay down.

Felicity walked slowly over to it, and tried to strengthen her resolve with deep breaths. I can

do this. I HAVE to do this. She brought Malin’s image to mind. She willed herself to

remember the ache she felt when he spoke so coldly about his heart. One final exhale and she

climbed up onto the stone table, placing her head on the velvet cushion. This is the worst idea

I have ever had. Princess Elizabeth moved next to her and stroked her hair.

“Beautiful girl. I knew you would not decline my offer.”

“I’m doing this for your son. You promise you will make him whole again?”

“But of course! He will function much better that way. And now everyone wins.”

“Will it hurt?” Felicity, felt a sob bleed through the question.

“Not nearly as much as the alternative,” she said, her voice dripping with sugary

sweetness. “Now, relax, it will all be over soon.”

The princess held one hand, palm down, over Felicity’s chest, the sceptre in the other,

and chanted ancient words that Felicity could not understand. The chant was hypnotic and

Felicity felt strangely calm. The air started to turn around her like a whirlwind; the fire blazed

higher and hotter, filling the room with stifling heat. Blue electricity, like tiny bolts of

lightning, were dancing from the princess’s hand to Felicity’s upper body. It was like being

stuck with dozens of needles and involuntary tears streamed down Felicity’s face from the

pain. Her eyes flew open as the whole room flashed with white light and went still. Was it

over? Is it done? A piercing shriek assaulted Felicity’s ears. She turned her head to see the

princess in a rage. Her hair had gone from the beautiful shade of dark brown to completely

white, her face visibly aged with wrinkles and sun spots that had not been there before.

She grabbed at her own hair to inspect the colour change, and felt her face frantically

with her hands. Older than even her pub persona, she screamed and turned on Felicity. “What

have you done!?”

Felicity jumped off the table and ducked behind it to hide herself. “Nothing!” she

yelled back. “I don’t know what happened. Didn’t it work?”

The princess appeared in a flash, standing behind her crouched position. She grabbed

Felicity’s hair and pulled her to a standing position. “Obviously not, you fool!” She shoved

her with more strength than her frail looks suggested and Felicity fell forward, cracking her

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head on the side of the table. She cried out, and clutched at her skull and felt blood running

down her cheek.

“What have you done with it, you little witch? Have you managed some spell to hide

it from me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Felicity managed, while clenching her teeth

against the pain in her head and chest.

The princess was getting ready to unleash the rest of her rage on Felicity when she

suddenly stopped and started laughing hysterically. Felicity took the opportunity to run to the

end of the room, looking everywhere for a door. She located one around the corner from one

of the cells, pulled the handle, and ran through, not caring where it led. She found herself

right back in the same dungeon room on the opposite side of where she ran through, face to

face with the princess.

“Going somewhere, dear girl?”

“Yes, anywhere but here,” Felicity answered in defiance, running past her. She only

managed two steps before her feet refused to cooperate. They seemed to be stuck to the floor,

her whole body felt like concrete, too heavy to move.

“Unfortunately I can’t allow that.” With another snap of her fingers, Felicity was on

her back on the table again, frozen in place.

The princess has regained her composure and circled the table as she spoke. “I am

quite foolish, I must say, and not too proud to say it. I failed to understand that because you

have given my son your heart you have literally GIVEN him your heart.”

“I don’t understand, what you are talking about?”

“Don’t you see? Your heart is with him, it’s no longer yours to give away.” She was

jubilant and practically salivating. “This has worked out more perfectly than even I could

have planned. Two hearts, united and strong. It will be all I need to sustain myself for the rest

of time.”

Two hearts? The implications filled Felicity with horror. “You don’t mean…you

wouldn’t!”

The princess’s dead eyes returned her stare, “Oh, yes. I would. I must.”

“But you promised!”

“Did I? Well, yes, that is true, but you didn’t keep up your end of the bargain really.

And he’ll be so much better off in the long run anyway.” When she saw the look on Felicity’s

face, she tssked. “It’s not going to kill him.”

“No, only the part of him that matters.”

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Snap! The table expanded and Reggie appeared next to her on the slab. Mercifully, he

was unconscious. Felicity didn’t want him to have to witness his mother having a complete

psychotic breakdown. Princess Elizabeth positioned herself over Reggie like she had done

with Felicity and began the chant. Felicity struggled internally to move but she was as solid

as a statue. She had to watch as electricity crackled over Reggie’s chest. This time though, a

tune began to sing out from somewhere, crystalline and beautiful. As the melody progressed,

a mist formed in the midst of the small storm. It began to take the shape of two birds, long

tails intertwined. Only white smoke to begin with, but colour was beginning to appear in

flashes. Felicity knew there wasn’t much time left.

She frantically tried again to move any part of herself, and then she remembered, the

ring! She had controlled so much of what happened in this world by instinct so she let her

mind float while focusing on the red stone. She immediately felt tingling in her fingers like

when a body part has fallen asleep. Thank God! Her fingers were moving. As she felt pulses

of heat radiating from the ring and as they spread through her body so many moments from

the last few months flashed through her mind. She had had the most amazing time. She knew

it was going to be over soon, if she survived this, at any rate. But she closed her eyes and

focused on the beautiful minutes, her lovely friends, the love she had for the strange little

pub, the laughter, and Malin…oh how she loved them.

Her whole arm moved, and then the rest of her. The birdsong filled the room, almost

as if it there were tangible musical notes floating by. The two birds over Reggie were nearly

solid. Felicity knew it was now or never and launched herself over his prone body. She

grabbed the sceptre out of the princess’s hand mid-air, landing hard on her knees. Felicity

heard a scream, a crack, and she knew she only had seconds before the princess regained her

wits. She stumbled to her feet, looking behind her. The birds had disappeared when the mini

fireworks show had been interrupted, and the princess had stumbled backwards but was

quickly recovering. Felicity didn’t have time to think. She swung the sceptre with all her

might against the stone wall. It shattered, releasing the pearl from captivity. Felicity

scrambled after it as it bounced like a child’s ball across the floor, coming to rest in the far

corner. She heard another bellow of rage behind her as she ran, reaching down to grasp the

pearl.

Before she could get her fingers around it, she was sent flying as the old woman

tackled her. She had the wind knocked out of her for a second, but she had to get to it first.

She pushed herself up and stumbled after the princess. She shoved the old woman away and

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dove wildly towards the glowing ball, closing her fist around it in triumph. When she looked

behind her the Princess had vanished.

She laid there on the cold stone floor, clutching the pearl to her chest. The power of it

coursed through her, healing her cuts and bruises and deeper wounds she hadn’t even been

aware of having. She felt everything and nothing all at the same time. Every emotion she’d

been trying to contain flowed through her. Instead of trying to cut it off or direct the flow,

like people do, she found herself able to let it be. Happiness, sadness, embarrassment,

disappointment, joy… because she was releasing them as they came, it was as though there

was nothing left. Nothing of her own to keep, but they were all hers; she was feeling only her

truest self. It felt like heaven and Felicity wished it would never end.

Someone was shaking her though, shaking her quite savagely. She opened her eyes

reluctantly to see Reggie standing over her with fear in his eyes. He hugged her ferociously,

nearly crushing her ribcage.

“I thought you were dead.”

“Same here,” she managed to squeak out.

He released her from the death grip and kissed her face over and over.

She laughed and pushed him back. “Don’t smother me, I’ve only just survived a near

death experience.”

He wasn’t laughing as he motioned to the still body of the princess. “Where are we?”

“Oh Reggie,” Felicity didn’t know how she was going to explain this. It occurred to

her that since she had the pearl, maybe she could fix it. If the two boys were put back

together, then she might not have to explain anything. “Hold my hand,” she urged and Reggie

complied, not understanding why. She closed her eyes and concentrated like she did to get

the door in the pub to appear. Nothing happened. Maybe it’s because I don’t know what

exactly I’m wishing for. Would it be so bad to stay here? Reggie and I could run the pub of

old, get married, have children. It would be a lovely little life.

The possibilities ran through her mind and with the fox’s pearl she might be able to have it

all. Of course, she’d give it back, but surely she’d earned a favour or two in nearly dying to

retrieve it.

She had nearly sold herself on the idea when Leanna’s face popped into her mind. Her

sister! How could she ever leave her best friend? Her life? Admittedly it wasn’t going that

well now, but who would she be here? Where was here anyway? A temporary illusion, or

something more? She considered Reggie’s beautiful brown eyes and knew she couldn’t leave

him. She was positive that when the two halves were put back together that it would be like

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bringing Reggie into her world. She needed to get the pearl back to Friend Fox first, and the

rest would take care of itself. As if sensing her certainty, the dungeon started to fade away

and the death grip she had on Reggie’s hand weakened. Felicity screamed in protest but no

sound came. All she could hear was Reggie calling her name over and over. Why hadn’t he

come with her?

The world shimmered around her and the stone walls turned into sky and trees. She

was now in the park between pubs where she had first met Friend Fox. She felt stone under

her and behind her back. She turned her head to see a mountainous fountain behind her, the

bench she sat on was part of the design.

The fountain was not the only change. The park looked very similar but instead of

council houses and iron fencing surrounding it, there were lovely, ivy-covered brick walls,

and big trees where houses should have been. The sky wasn’t only blue, it changed colours

every few second as if the aurora borealis had taken over the whole of the atmosphere.

Felicity watched it change from purple, to pink, then green, and every other colour on the

spectrum. There was a peculiar, sweet scent to the air and Felicity breathed in deeply. With

every inhale, she felt relaxed, more relaxed than she could ever remember feeling. It was such

a deeply pleasant sensation and she felt perfectly content to sit in that spot for the remainder

of her days, watching fluffy cotton morph through the prism above.

She had forgotten how she had gotten there or why she had come by the time Friend

Fox appeared as a small dot of orange in the corner of the park. He trotted towards Felicity,

the dot growing until he appeared hazily in front of her and sat on his haunches an arms-

length away.

“Do you have something for me?”

Felicity stared at him, unable to recall who he was or what he wanted from her. The

air in that particular space was having a strong effect on her ability to focus on anything

besides how wonderful she felt. She was very far away inside her own head when the fox

spoke again.

“Pardon?” she said, dreamily, only slightly aware that he had been addressing her.

Friend Fox sniffed indignantly, took a deep breath, and blew onto Felicity’s face.

When it breezed her direction, she reacted as if doused in icy water. She gasped and choked

as the effects dissipated. Her mind felt clearer, but still…

“Where are we? I feel very strange.”

“It’s the air. It has an anaesthetic effect on humans.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

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“This particular world is the one I call home. I find the effects quite pleasant.”

“This is where you live when you’re not busy drafting young women to undertake

dangerous tasks?”

“Yes, well…desperate times and such…That being said, I assume you have

something for me?”

Felicity felt her fingers close around the pearl, reluctant to give it up. “How do you

know I didn’t fail?” She was stalling for time, unwilling to hand over the only reason Friend

Fox ever spoke to her in the first place. What happens to ME now?

“You would not be able to be in this place without it.”

 “Oh,” she relented. “If I give it to you, will I pop out of existence or will I go

somewhere else? What happens to Reggie? And the pub?” Felicity was desperate for answers

and a guarantee that everything in her life would go back together, instead of continuing to

fall apart.

“Everything will go back to how it should be. You will go home, and you will get

everything you need. I promise.”

Felicity had never seen Friend Fox even attempt something that looked like a smile

but he appeared to have one on his face now, his eyes dancing with amusement. It was

unsettling.

 She sighed, “I’ll go back and everything will be as it should? And you promise I’ll

have everything exactly as I want it?” She extended her hand towards the fox, the pearl in her

closed fist.

 “I promise you shall have all that your heart desires. Consider it my gift. A thank

you.” He looked at her directly in the eyes as she slowly opened her hand. The minute the

pearl was visible there was an orange ‘swoosh’ across her palm, and it disappeared into the

folds of his many tails. Friend Fox glowed all over with the light of it. He shook out his coat,

stretched out his front paws, and arched his back. The scent of jasmine, the ocean, and

something sugary-sweet filled Felicity’s nostrils once again and she was immediately relaxed

and heavy. The fox leapt up from his crouched position and bounded around and away across

the park and out of view. The rainbow sky sped up its colour change, the wind picked up in

speed and density, swirling around her limbs, nearly viscous like liquefied gelatine. She tried

to lift her arms but it was an impossible task. She felt the thick winds lift her from the

fountain and carry her far away.

Chapter 26

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Felicity woke slowly, her body heavy from a deep and dreamless sleep, curious scents

still being breathed in and out of her lungs. She smiled to herself in the dark, filled with

satisfaction and accomplishment. She had done what she was supposed to do, of that she was

certain. Willing her arm to move, she reached for her phone to check the date and time. It was

only the next morning. She dropped the phone and pulled her hand close to her face when she

noticed the ring that had been previously adhered to her finger was now gone. She rubbed the

naked finger, missing the rings familiar weight, and wondered if it had somehow slipped off

during the fight for the pearl.

She sighed. Just another strange occurrence in a string of strange occurrences. It was

an odd feeling to know so much had happened in just one night, and yet here she was, back at

home in bed as if nothing had changed. But it had changed! The fox had promised. Going

about her normal morning routine, her mind was whirling with self-assurances. Friend Fox

had said she would have all she wanted and what she wanted was Malin and a life at the pub.

She imagined all that would be in the future, now that the destructive forces that were pulling

apart the other world would no longer influence this one. She would walk back into the pub

today and Nero would no longer be contemptuous, the rift between them healed. His

promises of sponsorship and that the pub would be hers and Malin’s to manage would be

renewed. He’d collect the profits and go off to America like he said he always wanted. They

would take over the wonderful flat upstairs and eventually have a family to be a part of the

little community that existed within the walls of the old building. She knew it was going to be

perfect because she’d followed her path. Closing the door to the Doll’s House, she set off to

work buoyant with positivity.

She was still deep into a series of daydreams when her phone rang, Kit’s name

flashing on the screen. Felicity chirped a hello as she answered.

“Hey, it’s Kit. I’m really sorry to do this to you but I wanted to let you know I won’t

be showing up today.”

Felicity’s joy balloon started to deflate. It was Sunday and she’d only been allowed to

schedule two people. She had Wolfy coming in before midday so maybe it wouldn’t be too

bad.

“Okay, did you call Nero, because I’m not the manager anymore?”

Kit let loose with a string of profane names directed at their boss and Felicity took

that as a no. Felicity understood her frustration as the pub had been struggling, not only with

vendors, but with a few exceptions, none of the staff had been paid for over four weeks.

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Everyone had been coming to Felicity as she had been responsible for writing payroll

cheques, but she had nothing to give them and no one wanted to confront Nero about it.

“I can’t pay rent this month and the other job is giving me more hours. I am truly

sorry because I know it’ll fall to you, but screw that guy. You shouldn’t go in either

considering how they’ve treated you.”

“I can’t say I’m not considering it. It would be quite funny if they had to get off their

asses and open the pub themselves on the busiest day of the week.” Felicity knew she

wouldn’t though, she couldn’t bear the idea of the place running anything but perfectly if she

could help it. Normally, she’d be irate at a staff member not showing up for a shift, but she

was indeed not the manager anymore, at least for now, and Kit was her friend. You can’t ask

people to work for free, she was the only crazy person who seemed okay with it.

Felicity thanked her for calling so she at least knew what she was walking into, hung

up, and immediately rang Wolfy. He didn’t answer so she left him a message about the

situation and asked if he could come in early. Oh well, she was an hour early and she’d

opened by herself before. She unlocked the back door and walked through to the bar to find

the place a disaster. Joy balloon, now completely deflated. What on earth had happened here

last night? There were dirty glasses all over the bar with chairs askew. The vases had been

collected and set on a table with half dead flowers drooping in and around them. Clean

laundry had been hung haphazardly on every available surface. She counted, and the only

acceptable table cloths were scattered around in this fashion, badly wrinkled, which meant

ironing each of them before she could set any tables. There was nothing to do but get started.

She had managed to get the bar area back to a glass-free state, and was busy filling

vases when the phone rang. It was Wolfy telling her he couldn’t be there any earlier as he’d

pulled an all-nighter at the other job. He was just getting home to shower, change, and eat.

Her final hopes of rescue dashed, she set the phone down and continued running around at a

ridiculous pace. She had just finished ironing her last table cloth when she heard Nero, the

Ponce, and the Irish guy Matt she had hired the week before, walk into the bar. They were

boisterous, talking and laughing loudly about the party they’d had in the pub the night before

after closing. Felicity greeted them cheerfully while she assembled the beer taps and stocked

the fridges.

“I think we need a little hair of the dog,” Nero said to the boys, “Ponce?”

The Ponce laughed and said in his fake posh accent, “No, sir, I couldn’t possibly…oh

alright, if you insist.”

“Felicity, three Amstel please.”

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Felicity rolled her eyes and got them their drinks. Matt looked to be in bad shape.

She directed her question to him only, “Are you okay?”

“Aye. I can’t remember much. My bag is missing and I woke up in the utility shed out

in the alley,” he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

With that statement the other two lost it, practically falling off their stools with

laughter. Felicity had a chuckle as well.

“Sounds like a good party,” was all she said, although her blood was starting to boil

with rage.

“Who else is working today?” Nero asked, recovering his composure.

“Kit was supposed open with me, but it doesn’t look like she’s coming in. Wolfy will

be here at midday.”

“Where is the bitch?” his smile disappeared and he pulled out his phone to call her.

Felicity bristled at the name-calling and certainly wasn’t going to rat her out, “I’m not

sure but she and a bunch of others were asking about pay cheques again yesterday.”

“Screw them. They’ll get paid when I say so.”

As he stepped out of the bar to make the call, Felicity said, “I’m not sure you can

blame people for not showing up to work when you’re now asking them to work for free.”

Felicity’s fury was growing and it was taking every ounce of self-control to keep her voice

even. “Not to mention you guys left this place a wreck and we open in thirty minutes.”

She expected that when pointing out the obvious fact that there were multiple tasks

left to do, someone would pitch in and help her set up. It was their pub after all, or so they

kept reminding her. Felicity looked at the sidewalk A-board and the menu boards that still

needed to be washed down and changed, the outdoor tables that needed to be unchained and

arranged, and the countless other tasks she had yet to finish and nearly walked out the door.

She took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself and managed not to yell Kit’s exact words

about Nero directly to his face.

“She didn’t answer. I let her have it on voicemail. As far as I’m concerned she’s

through here and she can forget about the back pay.”

Perfect, now I’ll be left with no one. Instead of getting up to help, Nero ordered

another pint and continued chatting with the boys. Looking at Felicity, pointedly, he turned to

the Ponce and said, “Say, Ponce, how nice is it to have dual passports, eh?”

The Ponce glanced up and quickly back down to hide a smirk, “Oh, it’s the best. I

have my Australian one when I want to use it, and an Irish one so I can be here if I want. It’s

the best. How about you, Matt? You’ve got an Irish passport too, right?”

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Matt looked up from his pint, half asleep, “Yes. Irishman here.”

“Shame you only have an American one, Felicity,” the Ponce said cruelly.

Nero piped up, “Oh, no mate, haven’t you heard? She’ll have a British one soon

enough when she and Malin get married.” Both laughed as if they’d told the funniest joke in

history.

She felt her blood pressure skyrocket, the base of her skull was tight, and her brain

felt like it was pushing out of her skull. Walk out the door, Felicity! Go! She was too

stubborn to give up and chose to ignore them, grateful when Matt and the Ponce left for home

and Nero went upstairs to sleep.

She managed to survive until Wolfy arrived and they had the place in order as the first

lunch customers arrived wanting Sunday roasts. Service was mercifully manageable but it

tapered off into a very slow evening service. Slow was not good for Felicity, the time was

dragging and she had the overwhelming feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

The shift switched at 5 p.m. with Wolfy leaving, replaced by a much soberer and awake Matt.

The Ponce and Nero settled back into the bar around 7 p.m. and while Matt served them,

Felicity tried her best to clean, stock, and keep her distance. She was cleaning the wax out of

candlesticks on the opposite side of the bar from where they were, but that didn’t stop her

from hearing everything being said.

She could see Nero looking at her with contempt out of the corner of her eye. He was

about four pints in and said to the general vicinity, motioning Felicity’s direction, “I can’t

even stand the sight of her. Even her breathing pisses me off.” She heard Matt say something

nicely in her defence but it hardly mattered. This time she couldn’t will away so she took the

opposite way around the bar to the ladies’ room. She carefully dabbed her eyes around her

mascara, filled with equal parts anger and sadness. She was angry at them for being so hateful

when she had done everything they had asked of her. She was equally angry at Friend Fox for

lying to her. Nothing was fixed, it was only getting worse. Mostly, she was sad that she no

longer felt at home in the one place she had committed her heart to. All she wanted to do was

get out of there to somewhere that felt safe. Forget walking on eggshells, she felt stuck right

in the middle of a minefield where it was only a matter of time before her luck ran out and

she would be blown to smithereens.

After one last look in the mirror to be sure no one could tell she’d been crying, she

walked back out to the far side of the bar. She heard a shriek and saw a bundle of energy and

brown hair come flying towards her. After she was released from a long hug, she saw it was

Deborah and nearly cried again. She had been so busy with other things; Deb had not been

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back into the pub for nearly two months. Felicity was not the only one happy to see her, the

Ponce and Nero were falling all over themselves to welcome her back. Felicity was simply

glad they were distracted and watched them have fun from a distance.

After quite a few drinks the boys became ridiculous as usual. They were spitting

crisps at each other, much to the disgust of the customers watching it happen. Felicity was

busy prepping for a quick exit. Deb motioned her to come over to where she was with the

boys, so she steeled herself, pasting on a smile. Deb was tipsy and put her arm around

Felicity’s neck, exclaiming to anyone within earshot, “This girl is the most amazing person

and the best thing to ever happen to this pub. She is caring, and wonderful. I hope you all

know what you have in her.”

Felicity sunk further into her pool of misery and tried not to look at Nero or the

Ponce. She smiled, thanked her, and quickly got away the minute Deb released her hold.

When the boys left, Felicity went into overdrive to finish the close. Some other staff had

shown up, including Malin, and they decided to head to the Doll’s House for poker and

drinks. Two cabs were summoned and eight of them piled in. Malin and his friend Nick

decided to make an alcohol run and would meet them there.

They stood outside smoking as the cabs drove away. Felicity was trying to explain her

bad feeling and the fights with Nero over the last two weeks to George, Kit who had been

waiting for them on the stoop, and the new kitchen hire, Jeff. They were all trying to reassure

her that it was a bad spell and would pass. George reminded her how often Malin was in

trouble and made the point that he was still employed. Felicity wanted desperately to believe

them, until Jeff piped up.

“I’m sorry, but I overheard something tonight that now makes sense. I guess I have to

tell you now that I’ve mentioned it, but I’d rather not.”

“Whatever it is, I’d rather know.”

Jeff looked uncomfortable and shuffled his feet a bit, lighting another smoke. “They

gave me a lift from the VS to the pub and were talking about you. Nero was laughing and

telling the Ponce that he was going to have to do the dirty work tonight because Nero was

going up to bed and couldn’t be bothered dealing with you. They made some other comments

about you not working out but I was only half listening.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Felicity sighed, “I’m not really surprised. I can’t believe that

he was going to make the Ponce do it. He’s the one with the problem. Coward!”

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George interrupted what might have turned into a longer rant, “Look, Malin and Nick

are back with the alcohol. Let’s go in and try to forget about it. We can’t be certain that’s

what they intended to do.”

Felicity gave her a sour look, but dropped the matter. Inside, the rest of the group was

setting up poker at the tiny round table, pulling up chairs opposite the couch, with others

pouring drinks. She quickly popped upstairs to check on a sleeping Leanna. Her sister had her

headphones in and promised she didn’t mind the party below. The poker game went late into

the night, people leaving one by one, until only Kit, Malin, Matt, and George were left.

George went down to Felicity’s room to lay down and after getting pizza delivered the game

was put on hold while Malin and Felicity stepped outside. They sat on the front steps, while

Felicity told him the quick version of events. They sat in silence for a second cigarette while

Malin processed the information. This was the first time Felicity had seen him since she

returned the pearl to Friend Fox. She mused that it had only been a day when it felt like

months ago.

“I can’t believe how horrible they’re being to you. I don’t understand it.”

“I don’t either. They’ve put up with a lot of bad behaviour from other people and

never fired them. I only have a few months left on my visa anyway. They could have simply

left it alone, used me for the work, and wished me goodbye when I failed to find a sponsor.”

“Stop. I’m sure you’ll find something. I’m going to speak with Nero, or I’m going to

hate them for this.” Malin flicked his cigarette across the street and shook his head. “I need to

get the hell out of that place, it’s poisonous.”

Despite her sad, tipsy state, Felicity couldn’t help but feel incredibly happy about

Malin’s reaction. She was used to him being blasé about everything. Matt came out the front

door as they were getting up to go back in. They said goodnight and went inside. George and

Kit were down in Felicity’s room and by the time she’d finished cleaning up, Malin was fast

asleep on the sofa. She went downstairs and crawled into bed around the other two, happy

that it was large enough for all three. It was only moments before she was fast asleep, grateful

to leave the awful day behind.

Chapter 27

There was no sign of Nero when she arrived at the pub the next day. Since she hadn’t

been let go, she decided to carry on as usual. She was certain, however, that if Deb had not

magically arrived the night before, things would have gone very differently. She also knew

that it had only been a temporary stay of execution. The time she used to love spending at the

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pub, would now only be hours of anxiety waiting for the inevitable. Nero had only scheduled

her for a short night shift and she was hoping to be out before he came home. Unfortunately,

that did not happen. The night had been steady with a few large parties that had stayed most

of the night. One table had ordered bottle after bottle of Rioja, which normally would have

been fine back when they had kept a stock to the Ponce’s specifications. Nero walked in as

she was explaining to the table that they had run out of that particular wine and was trying to

help them decide on an alternative. He heard the whole exchange and cornered her in the

hallway on her way back up from the cellar.

“How is it that we are out?”

“We only had six bottles and they ordered all six this evening.” Felicity tried to detach

herself and respond as directly as possible.

“Do you know how bad it looks to be out of something when a customer asks for it?

That’s not how we do things here.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not the one doing the ordering anymore.”

“It’s still your responsibility and any member of staff’s responsibility to let me know

when we’re low on things.”

“We weren’t low. We had what you ordered. I couldn’t possibly know that a table

would come in and blow through our entire stock.” This is what happens when you try to be a

cheap bastard. It’s not like bottles cost us money sitting on a shelf.

Instead of speaking her mind, Felicity kept her head lowered and waited for him to go away.

Which he did with a big ‘humphf’ and grumbling she was certain that she didn’t want to hear.

If she’d ordered more than what he told her to, he would have yelled. Now that they were out,

he yelled. There was no winning for her.

She hadn’t time to move before he came huffing back out of the kitchen. He ripped

the curtain open in front of the light panel and switched on the outside lights. “I’m really glad

you don’t listen to anything I say. These lights are meant to be on at dusk.”

Felicity looked outside and it was plenty light to her. “Look, I am TRYING. I don’t

think it’s dark enough yet. Why don’t you set a time and I’ll have them on at that time every

single day since we obviously can’t agree on what is dusk means. If I turn them on too early

you get upset about that too.”

“Like I said, this isn’t working.”

Felicity was over being kept in a constant state of dread by a madman, so she rolled

her eyes and walked away. Go ahead and fire me. Anything is better than dealing with your

nonsense.

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Felicity was busy telling him off in her head when she came back out to the bar. There was a

new girl behind the bar with Nero. Apparently, another new hire, Felicity was appalled at her

tatty clothes. She was in ripped up jeans, trainers, and an over-sized, torn, white t-shirt that

clearly showed her black bra underneath. When she had started at the pub, every single girl

dressed well and had an air of class. This girl had hair that hadn’t been washed in a week and

was chewing gum with her mouth open.

She was French and Nero was falling all over himself flirting with her. Felicity now

rolled her eyes internally as they were introduced. She was instructed to put her through

training until closing. Fantastic. Apparently, I’m too moronic to do anything right but you

want me to train new staff. Felicity did as she was told. Nero was heading upstairs but asked

to talk to Felicity before she left. Felicity wordlessly commended Nero on the plan to have

her train her replacement before she was given the boot. Ever the professional, Felicity put

the girl through the same training she’d done a dozen times before by now. It was good to

focus on something other than her own misery.

The tyrant came back down as they were finishing the close. She was mentally

prepared for whatever he had to say at this point. She was in the office finishing the till count

so she turned her chair to face him and waited for him to speak.

“I realise this has been difficult for both of us and I’m ready to draw a line under the

whole thing.”

“Alright,” she waited.

“I think we can both agree that this isn’t working between us, but after conversations

with a couple of people, I think you’ll find it fair if we taper off your hours over the next few

weeks.”

He outlined a plan to drop Felicity’s hours in half every week, so she’d at least have

some sort of pay cheque, and then she’d be done after week three. Considering how quickly

things had gone bad, she agreed to the arrangement, though her main concern was the Doll’s

House. Even if she did have to return to the States, she and Leanna needed a place to live

until mid-December. Finding anything else for such a short amount of time would be

virtually impossible.

“I’ll be happy for you to stay in the little house until you go. Rent is rent after all.”

Yes, and for anyone else you’d have to do the repairs you promised you’d do when we

moved in.

Felicity nodded to all that he had said and managed a thank you.

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He tried to be polite and mentioned needing to get to bed as he walked out of the

small office. She let out the air she’d been holding in. At least it was done and she knew how

it was going to go, and most importantly she had somewhere to live while she tried to make

alternate plans to stay. She finished up, sent Tatty Girl home, and called Maree. They had

both been drowning in their own separate misery and hadn’t had time to catch up. With the

VS closing and her being removed as manager to a ‘more administrative roll,’ the Ponce and

Nero had been almost as horrible to her as they were being to Felicity. They decided to meet

outside the park and go from there.

Maree was arriving from the VS just as Felicity rounded the corner.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” Maree gave her a lengthy hug.

“You too. Where should we go?”

“I’m starving, care for a kebab?”

“Fine by me, the place on the corner is usually open late.”

The girls walked to Fulham Palace Road and towards the neon-lit restaurant that had

some of the best wraps in London. They took a seat towards the back of the restaurant after

placing their order and began to swap stories. Maree was in a bit of a panic as they had told

her this morning that she needed to vacate her room at the VS to make way for other renters.

“They did say I could stay, but at a much higher rate. They were already charging me

market price because I know what the non-employees were paying. They’ve cut my pay to a

per-project rate…which means, no money.”

“I don’t get it, because the place is going to be sold in a month or two, who is going to

want to move in for a couple of months?”

“I saw the Ponce showing around a blonde girl who is apparently ready to move in.

She looks like an exact replica of his last three girlfriends.”

“At least he’s consistent.”

“Yes, consistently an asshole. Cheers!”

The two girls clinked their beer bottles.

Felicity had an idea and messaged Leanna to ask her permission…when the reply

came she broached the topic with Maree.

“I checked with Leanna, but if you’re interested, there’s room on the sofa at the Doll’s

House.”

Maree contemplated the offer for a few seconds and then broke into a smile. “That

would be A-mazing! Are you both sure? I’d pay for bills and things.”

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“Of course I’m sure, might as well have the rejects in one house. And I feel that in

some way I’m sticking it to Nero by having you there.”

“That’s such a weight off!”

“It’ll be fun, for as long as it lasts. When do you need to move?”

“By the end of the week.”

The girls toasted again and were contemplating another round when two of their

regulars walked through the door. Ewan and James greeted the girls and asked how the pubs

were going. Both girls looked at them sourly and admitted things were not good.

Ewan frowned, “Can’t say I’m surprised to hear it. The way those two go through

staff members… I’ve been going to that pub even before Nero got the place, back when it

was a spit and sawdust sort of establishment. The stories I could tell…”

“Tell!” both girls said at once.

The two men joined them and launched into story after gossipy story about the time

before either of them knew the pub existed. From what they said, Felicity and Maree were

only the latest casualties in a long line of managers and staff who had left after a falling out

with Nero. The most disgusting story involved Nero and one of the patrons coming out of the

toilets after engaging in indecent activity.

“Rumour is, that’s why his Mrs. left him,” James ended Ewan’s story, rubbing his

balding head as if to wipe away the mental image.

Felicity scoffed, “I can see why. Gross!”

Ewan nodded, “It’s always the same with them. They’ll go through a period of being

completely lovely to the flavour of the week, then they get a wild hair and start pulling it all

apart. One of the previous managers got so mad he charged up thousands of dollars of debt to

the business address. Debt collectors turned up to the place all the time questioning Nero.”

Felicity laughed, not that she condoned the behaviour, but at the thought of how

annoyed Nero and the Ponce must have been. It made her feel a tiny bit better to know that

she wouldn’t be the first manager they ended up hating. She was certain she wouldn’t be the

last either, and now fully understood why Deborah had stepped down from the roll. She

wished she had done the same. But it was a silly wish, because she couldn’t change it, and

wouldn’t have made any other choice. The evidence had been in front of her at the start but

she had ignored it. There was one thing Felicity had learned well. If someone can treat

another person in an inexcusable manner, it won’t be long before they do the same to you.

She knew she was naive to have watched Nero belittle and bully people around her and think

she would be immune.

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* * * * *

At the end of the week, Maree and a friend arrived at the Doll’s House in a taxi with a

small selection of her belongings. Despite the sadness Felicity and Maree felt, the four girls

popped open champagne before noon and attempted a ‘we’ve been sacked’ celebration. They

listed all the things they would be happy not to have to deal with anymore, and the little

house was full of camaraderie and laughter. Felicity only had one glass of champagne as she

was scheduled for the Saturday night shift. An excellent decision as the party was interrupted

at 2 p.m. by a frantic phone call from the French girl, asking if she knew where Nero was.

Felicity did not know, but asked if she could help.

“I don’t know. We’re having a busy lunch and there are people sending food back,

nobody here knows what to do. I don’t know how to do a refund, or if I should, and I’m at my

wits end.”

Felicity sighed, “Alright, well don’t panic. I’m twenty minutes away and I only need

to throw my shoes on.”

She explained the situation to the other three, who were less than impressed that she

was going in three hours early. She looked at their reproving faces, “I know, I know. But the

only people suffering here are the other staff, most of whom I hired.”

She grabbed her umbrella and set of, arriving soaking wet anyway. She found a full

pub, dishes of half-eaten food all over the shelf in the hallway, and frazzled Tatty Girl

rubbing her temples by the office.

“You didn’t have to come in, but thank you for showing up anyway.”

“It’s alright, what can I do to help?”

“We’ve had three burgers sent back saying the meat doesn’t taste right. Two more

were sent back because they were falling apart,” she pointed to the dish on the counter.

“They’ve already left and I didn’t know what to do so I took them off their bills.”

“That’s okay. First, that’s happened because they’re buying low quality meat from a

grocery store. And second, someone should have been here who’s been at this longer than

two weeks. For next time, offer them a replacement dish and if that’s not good enough and no

one is here and you can’t get Nero on the phone, make a judgement call. Which you did.”

Felicity was annoyed that, once again, the only one looking after HIS pub was her. The extra

pair of hands was all that was needed and they set everything back in order with plenty of

time to spare before dinner service. Felicity sent Matt and Tatty Girl on a much-needed break

215

and manned the fort by herself until they came back. When they did, Felicity sent herself on a

break to dry off her soggy shoes and fix her bedraggled hair.

Malin was on his way out the kitchen door as Felicity was coming out of the

bathroom, moderately less wet.

“Can you chat for a second?” he asked when he saw her.

Felicity looked at the time and towards the bar that seemed to be under control, “Sure,

I have about five minutes.”

They went out to the curb and sat.

“So what’s up?” Felicity asked, anxious not to be late.

“I had a chat with Nero about you. I couldn’t stand for how they’ve treated you.”

“And?”

“I told him that I felt he was being massively unfair and asked him to consider all

your hard work.”

“We had a chat last week and I’m on my final few weeks. The hours are meant to

taper off and then that’s it.”

“Oh, alright. Apparently, he wants to draw a line under all of it.”

“Nero said that, but…British term I don’t understand. Draw a line under what?”

“They were eager to get rid of you because with Kit and a few others quitting, they’ve

assumed you and Maree are poisoning people and they wanted to cut the head off the snake.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous. I don’t need to do anything to make them look bad, they

do that well enough on their own. Besides, they’re MY staff, not his. They stayed working

here because of me, not him.”

“Yes, but they obviously don’t see it that way. They think when you’re both gone that

everyone else will fall in line. Anyway, I’m glad to hear he’s gone with a compromise.”

“I appreciate you talking to him. Obviously, that wasn’t an easy thing to do

considering how tenuous your position is here half the time.”

“Tenuous, an American word I don’t understand,” he said with a smirk.

Felicity rolled her eyes and smiled.

“I need to get back inside. Is Nero around tonight?”

“Not yet, but he will be eventually. I need to get over to the VS, it’s our last weekend

for food service.”

“Then what? For you.”

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“I want to get out of here, but since they don’t pay me an actual salary I have no

money saved for a deposit somewhere. I’m going to bide my time and try to save as much

money as I can from the bit they give me from the till.”

“Are you coming back over here?”

“Yes, they’re going to give George and Gio some vacation time.”

“Alright, talk to you later, Malin.”

He gave her a long hug and picked his bicycle up off the sidewalk. He turned back a

few seconds later. “Hey, maybe we should open our own place. What do you think? We’d

make a good team.”

She felt her heart lift and could think of nothing better, “I think that sounds like an

excellent idea. If you can prove to me that you can show up for work on time.”

Malin laughed, nodded, and pedalled away.

* * * * *

Halfway through dinner service, Kit came into the pub with her girlfriend. Felicity

was surprised but pleased to see her and gave her a quick hug in greeting.

“Is Nero here?” Kit asked, looking around.

“No, not yet. What’s up?”

“I messaged and called him earlier about a dozen times about getting the money he

owes me. My rent is due.”

“Did you get him finally?”

“Yes, he said to be here around now and he’d give me cash.”

“Okay, good. Well, would you like something to drink while you’re waiting?”

“Sure, two Foster’s please.”

The two girls took a seat at one of the tables by the bar after saying hello to Leanna

who was sitting at the bar with a friend. She started a tab and carried on as they were barely

keeping up with the volume of people and orders. Two and a half hours went quickly and

there was always a feeling of relief when dinner service wound down. Only serving drinks

was so much easier to keep up with than responding to the demanding ding of the kitchen bell

as well. Matt was a good worker but he also tended to do his own thing without listening to

anything Felicity would ask him to do. After the third time of asking him to stock the fridges,

Felicity gave up and ran down to the cellar herself. She filled a packing crate with the juices,

sparkling waters, and other items she needed and hauled it upstairs, dodging people and

trying not to drop it.

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She was crouched down to fill the empty spaces, glancing up briefly to see Nero walk

around the bar with Kit close behind. Her stomach clenched. Asking Nero for money was

hard enough, asking him for money when he feels you screwed him over was impossible. She

gave Kit credit for her bravery. She had no interest in passing by the office, but the crate was

in the way anywhere she tried to set it out front. She slipped by Kit and Nero who were

clearly at odds. He was counting out cash with a furious look on his face. Kit looked serene.

Felicity could only hear snippets of what they were saying. Something from Kit about suing

for vacation pay, something from Nero about job abandonment and her lucky she was getting

anything at all.

Felicity took as much time as she dared in the cellar but it still wasn’t enough. Nero

stopped her on her way by the office.

“Why the hell did you let her in here?”

“I’m sorry. She said you had told her to come in. I had no reason not to believe her.”

“Next time when someone walks out on the job they’re automatically barred, got it?”

“Alright.” Felicity didn’t have much to say considering she was neither in charge

anymore, nor was she actually a permanent or full-time employee. She wanted to laugh in his

face. You demoted, belittled, and basically fired me. Are you really asking me to care?

Felicity wanted to set the heavy crate down. She turned her back on him and made it

to the bar before her fingers gave out. She noticed Kit behind the bar doing something on the

till but she was too busy with everything else to give it much thought. She was about to cash

out when Leanna called her over.

“I’m pretty sure I saw Kit grab a couple of bottles of wine out of the fridge before she

left.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“And you waited until now to tell me?”

“Well, I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on or if she had paid for them or what.”

“I’ll check her tab.”

Felicity walked over to the till and tried to bring up the tab number she had put Kit

and her girlfriend onto but it had been closed. She walked back over to Leanna.

“Okay well I don’t see anything weird. And considering we don’t audit our stock I

have no way of knowing if anything is missing. I saw her use the card machine.”

“Cool. Well I just thought I’d let you know.”

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“I’m seeing her and Wolfy tomorrow so I’ll ask her about it then. Let me close and

then let’s get out of here.”

Leanna was waiting in the alley and they hurried away from the pub, slowing their

pace when they reached the corner.

“I’m not ready to go home yet,” Felicity said, sadly, “Care for a walk on the river?”

“Sure, let’s stop at Tesco on the way. I’m hungry.”

The girls made a quick stop for snacks and drinks and then crossed Fulham Palace

Road to wind their way to the Thames River Walk. In the time before Felicity started at the

pub and in snatches of free time after, the two girls had come to the river at all hours of the

day and night for a walk and a chat about anything on their minds. Leanna had been away on

various trips for the last month and Felicity had no time to catch her up on all that had

happened. They shared a bag of crisps in silence until they hit the water.

Felicity breathed in the smell of the river, admiring the dim city lights and

Hammersmith Bridge shining off in the distance. This place felt so much like home to her,

almost like a second skin. Everything seemed to be shifting and she couldn’t help but be

afraid. Leanna had not found sponsorship yet either, and although they both had multiple

applications in, time was running short. It was September already, and Felicity’s visa was due

to expire in December. She only had income until the end of the month and with the

reduction in hours, she wasn’t sure how she was going to pay her rent and bills for the final

two months. All of this was descending into her mind like a leaden fog, heavy and obscuring

everything else.

When they reached the lone bench that looked out on the bridge, Felicity told her

story. They sat in silence for a while as Leanna took it all in.

“Did you think about staying there at all?” Leanna finally asked.

“Sure, I thought about it, but it never truly felt like a possibility.”

“Why not?”

“Because it all just happened, as if it had a momentum of its own. Almost like I was

an actor following a script or someone reading a book. You can only take it in page by page,

discovering what the author has written, without the option to choose for the characters to do

something else.” Felicity paused.

“But it seems like you did have a choice when you met with the fox. You could have

asked for anything.”

“I only said what came to me in that moment…to have everything that I wanted…for

things to be what they were supposed to be.”

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“That’s the catch though, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” Felicity was puzzled.

“Sometimes what we want and what is supposed to be, aren’t the same thing.”

Felicity registered with a sinking feeling that Leanna was right, “Friend Fox only

promised that I would get what I needed. I didn’t notice that he wasn’t agreeing to give me

what I asked for…Tricky bastard.”

Leanna laughed and took a swig from the bottle. Felicity glanced at her, “Boy, we are

classy. Drinking wine from a bottle on a park bench in the middle of the night. Twice in a

month for me…I’m only three pay cheques and a paper bag away from being a hobo.”

Her sister choked and sputtered, “Thanks a lot!” She continued when she recovered,

“I think, although the specific wording is a bit tricky, that it all ends up to your benefit.”

Felicity considered the awfulness of the last month and couldn’t see how that was

possible. She gave Leanna a sceptical look.

“I’m serious. Sometimes things are only meant to last for a short time. They were

what we needed for that time and maybe what we wanted as well. But what we need changes,

and I believe things always go how they are supposed to, so in time, even though it didn’t go

how you wanted it to, the new thing you need will also be the thing that you want.”

“Okay, Yoda, I’m going to need a minute with that one.”

As much as she hated to admit it, although she had wanted to stay at the pub for the

rest of her life, it was always going to be Nero’s and she did not want to be subject to his

whims and bad temper. It was never going to work long-term. Her eyes were welling up as

she searched inside herself for the strength to let go.

“It hurts so much to think of not going in there every day. It’s been my only focus for

so long and I was never happier to be committed to something – to be putting down roots.”

Leanna held her hand as the tears finally spilled onto Felicity’s cheeks. “I know.”

“At the same time, I hate being afraid of him, and it’s been exponentially worse since

he came back from the VS. So, you’re right, I guess I don’t want it anymore, really.”

“You always know the truth of things if you sit still and listen long enough.”

Felicity nodded, “Besides, I am still hopeful that I’ll end up with Malin in the end. He

feels like an adventure to me. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, it does. The best relationships are the ones that feel like freedom, not

restriction.”

“He mentioned opening our own place you know.”

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“That would be awesome! Then you can be the tyrannical bosses and lose your mind

at staff over napkins being folded the wrong way.”

Felicity punched her in the shoulder.

“We’ll see. He’s coming over next week so we can talk about it. I still have to figure

out how to stay here first.”

“We both do.”

Chapter 28

The next night, Wolfy and Kit stood to greet Felicity as she walked in to The

Curtain’s Up pub a few minutes late. They got a bottle of wine to share and Felicity wasted

no time asking Kit what had happened the night before. With all three of them either done or

well on their way to no longer working there, no one was feeling overly loyal to the place, as

such Kit felt perfectly comfortable being blunt.

“I went in to get my pay cheque, as I said to you, Felicity. He owed me four weeks of

back pay and kept trying to cut that in half. I showed him the rotas with the hours added up

and he still deducted 100 quid. He said I’d get the rest when I turned in my keys.”

Felicity interjected, “You gave me your keys and I gave them to him the next

morning.”

“I told him that and he ignored it, so he can go jump. I paid for the first two drinks

that my girlfriend and I had and zeroed out the rest off the till. I also grabbed a bottle of the

Pol Roger and the Sancerre on my way out. I think that makes us just about even.”

“Oh, Kit!” Felicity was struggling between her old manager mind-set with

unquestionable loyalty and her new role as a barely employed bar worker who completely

understood what an asshole Nero was to deal with. He was lucky that every employee he

owed a month’s pay to didn’t take it out of the place in stock. George and Gio were the only

full-time members of staff left and felt the lack of income worst.

“I honestly understand why you did it, not that I actually saw anything. My sister was

the only one who caught it.”

“No she wasn’t, Matt saw it too and didn’t say a word.”

Wolfy shrugged at the whole affair, “They can’t screw over people who make

minimum wage and expect anything else.”

“I wish I didn’t know about it. I’m certainly not going to be the one to tell them.

They’re too disorganised to know its missing anyway. They’ll assume they drank it on one of

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their many binges. I think, at cost, it’s about 35 quid total,” Felicity tried to justify it for

herself and almost succeeded.

“I don’t care. They treat everyone like crap and don’t seem to care how the place runs

anymore. They deserve worse.”

No one there could find it in themselves to disagree.

* * * * *

Felicity did not feel sorry that Kit had done what she did, but she still felt that it

wasn’t right to know and not say anything at all about it. She used to talk to the Ponce about

everything business-related and had felt comfortable being honest with him as he had been

fair, once upon a time. She called his phone, after some contemplation, deciding that she

wanted the opportunity to talk to him directly about everything that had been going on. He

was the one who was meant to fire her, after all. It wasn’t unexpected from the moody and

unpredictable Nero, but it had been a bit of a shock to think the Ponce was on board as well.

After a chat with the Ponce’s sister, Cara, who still had not been back to the pub since her

falling out with Nero, she was determined to give the Ponce one last chance. Cara had

convinced her that he would listen and be reasonable.

There was no answer on his end so she left him a voicemail. As a safeguard, she also

sent a text to let him know that what she wanted to talk about was important. She felt better

immediately but spent the whole day checking her phone, anticipating his call. It never came.

There was no call or text the next day either. Felicity was disappointed and hurt that he didn’t

even have the courtesy to get back to her. She only had two more shifts that week, Tuesday

and Wednesday, and then who knew how many the next. At the end of the Wednesday shift,

she stopped at the office door to ask Nero for her pay. She was only short by two weeks of

pay, but she needed it.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could get my cheque?”

Nero turned around from the bright computer screen, “Yeah it’s here, but I have to

ask. Do you not get a tax statement?”

Felicity was thrown from the unexpected question, “Yes. I mean I’ve gotten one while

I’ve worked here. Why?”

“I’m a little pissed off going through the books. It shows you as self-employed, which

is going to cost me more in taxes. Who set that up?”

She had no idea how the tax system worked in the UK. Everyone had told her not to

worry about it because she didn’t make enough for it to be an issue. “I don’t know what to

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tell you. All you and the Ponce said was that you were going to pay me less, but since I’d be

self-employed I’d get more money up front and you’d have to pay less tax. I’m sorry, but you

guys set it up, not me.”

Nero grunted and handed her a cheque, “Super,” he said, turning back to the screen.

She looked at the total and was disappointed. He had said she was going to get some

money back for the visa she had been supposedly saving towards.

“Uh, sorry again, but I wanted to check in with you about the visa money?”

He looked at her blankly.

“You said you’d be putting an extra bit in with my cheques?”

Nero shook his head and looked sheepish, “Sorry, I don’t have it. I’m not even caught

up with the payroll cheques and I don’t know when I’m going to be either.”

“Alright, well, thanks.” She tried to be as chipper as possible. “Goodnight.”

Underneath the nonchalance, Felicity was irate. She wasn’t going to tell them

anything about Kit. If one employee knew, everyone knew, and not one other person had

come forward. Why should she be the one to fall on her sword for two people who never kept

their word and couldn’t even fulfil the minimum requirement of paying people for their work.

She was no longer the manager, and was being let go for no justifiable reason; they were on

their own.

* * * * *

Felicity was enjoying her new-found free time. She went for walks with Leanna and

Maree, many days going from Shepherd’s Bush to Putney and back. The three girls took

turns cooking dinner at night, watched movies, and spent a lot of time talking. The kinship

was a good distraction from facing an uncertain future. On Sunday, Felicity had coffee with

George before she went to work in the afternoon, and then met up with Malin in

Hammersmith after he got off work to outline ideas for their own business. She was a regular

social butterfly these days.

She arrived at the pub on King’s Street before him and sat down with a notebook of

blank paper. He was late as usual, but Sunday’s were the earliest night for him so they still

had plenty of time when he arrived at 9 p.m. He stopped at the bar on the way in, got his

usual glass of Pinot Grigio, then sat down at Felicity’s table.

“How was work?” she asked.

“Eh, fine. Nero and I got into a little fight over some fish, but, as always, he doesn’t

listen to reason.”

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“Sounds…fun. Can’t say I’m going to miss that at all.”

“How much time do you have left?” he asked as he got out his own mangled set of

notes.

“At the pub? One more week I guess. He hasn’t done the schedule yet so I have no

idea when or if I’m working. If you’re referring to my visa, I have until December.”

“And then what?”

“I can come back on a visitor visa to see how things pan out with job opportunities –

that’s six months. I have a return ticket for February.”

“That’s not a long time at home then.”

“No, thankfully. But I need to sort a few things in order to come back, so there are

some ‘ifs’. If I can get this work-from-home position that my friend has recommended me. If

I can find someone to stay with. So, we’ll see.”

“It’ll be okay.”

“I hope so. Anyway, what’s our plan?”

They launched into a discussion about money, location, type of business, décor, and

music. They had very similar tastes in everything, so there were few compromises to be

made. In his free time, Malin had even put together a few sample menus of the type of food

he’d like to cook. Felicity had reservations about his management skills and responsibility,

but his talent as a chef had never been in question. When they used to get bored on the day

shift, the on-duty staff would play the ‘make-a-dish-out-of-this’ game, where they’d select

four or five random ingredients and Malin would have to come up with an edible dish. He

was ridiculously talented.

By the time they called last orders, they had made excellent progress. Felicity put on

her coat outside the front door, it was starting to feel like winter. She turned to say goodnight

to Malin, “That was productive! I’m looking forward to making it all happen.”

“Yeah, I know it’s going to be a few years, but it’s good to be thinking and planning

ahead.”

“Now I need to sort out staying. Alright, I’m heading home. What’s your plan? Do

you have to head back to work?”

He looked at her tentatively, “No, I was going wherever you were.”

Maybe this will actually turn out okay in the end.

Felicity tried not to be overly hopeful but replied, “Alright, I hope you don’t mind the

walk.”

“Not at all,” he said as he took her hand.

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They made their way through Lyric Square and up Hammersmith Grove. Felicity felt

like she’d time-warped back to that very first night after the Boat Races. Everything felt right

and easy. She was moving on from the pub, but the idea of opening her own place with Malin

was so much better than working for someone else.

“What would you think about maybe moving in together when you get back in

February?” he asked out of nowhere.

Felicity’s brain exploded and then snapped back together.

“And how would that work? One bedroom, two? The latter might be a bit awkward if

one of us starts dating.”

“You know how I am at relationships.”

“Yes, but I’m good at them. And obviously, there’s something more between us.”

Felicity stopped him walking right then, even though they were only around the corner from

the Doll’s House, “If you want nothing more between us then that’s it for us. I can’t do this

in-between nonsense again. You’ve known how I feel about you for some time now and it’s

not fair to use that.”

Malin looked down at his feet for what seemed like ages in the cold night air, “Let’s

give it a go…as long as we take it very slowly.”

Felicity wanted to point out that if they took it any slower they’d be moving

backwards, but instead she smiled, took his hand, and continued towards home.

* * * * *

Felicity sleepily reached for the covers in the dark, the coldness of the room must

have woken her. She couldn’t quite find the corner of the blanket and cracked her eyelids

open halfway to locate the missing duvet. Her heart skipped as she made out the outline of

someone in the doorway of her room. The black figure glided closer and she willed herself to

scream or move, but like dreams she’d had in childhood, she could not force herself to do

either. Her heart beat wildly as the figure moved over to her and she wished herself awake to

no avail. As it hovered within inches of her prone form, the blackness came into focus. The

princess in her aged form smiled sinisterly down at Felicity.

“Sweet child, did you think yourself rid of me?”

Felicity struggled and strained but could not get her throat to force a sound, horrible

fear shot through her body like lightning bolts.

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“There, there, don’t struggle. Regardless of what you might think, I am not here to

end your life. Although that would be fair, considering you all but ended mine.”

Her sickly-sweet smile diminished into a grimace, and Felicity wondered what awful

revenge she had planned. It was only for a moment and the faux smile returned, “No matter.

As you can see, I am not completely finished and wanted to leave you with a parting…gift…if

you will.”

The old woman raised her eyes upwards, hands with palms towards the ceiling,

chanting in the same unintelligible language as the spell in the dungeon. She clapped her

hands together and a cloud of sulphurous smoke burst forth covering Felicity and the still

sleeping Malin in a noxious cloud. Felicity choked, her eyes watering and stingy from the

stench. The princess smacked her hands together as if to dislodge some sort of residue, and

smiled down, once again, at Felicity, looking very pleased with herself. She leaned down and

whispered into Felicity’s hair. “You might have freed my son’s heart, but unfortunately, it

will never be you that it loves.” And with that, she was gone.

Halfway between midnight and sunrise, Felicity woke up struggling to breathe. With

the faint scent of sulphur still in her nostrils and the image of the old woman looming above

her, she forced her eyes open in a panic. Just a dream. Only a dream. She saw Malin’s face

directly in front of hers, their lips pressed together. She didn’t remember falling asleep that

way. Somehow in their deepest sleep, one had found the other. Felicity felt the gravity of the

moment, the weight and strength of the tie that bound her to him, and felt contentment for the

very first time. She swam around in the unfamiliar feeling until she drifted away once again.

Chapter 29

The sun was muted by the position of Felicity’s room below street level, but it was

still bright enough to make her wince as she woke to the sound of her phone ringing. She

answered with a sleepy hello, instantly alert when she heard Nero on the other end. These

days, when he called, it filled her with instant anxiety.

He started abruptly, “Is there anything that you would like to tell me?”

Felicity couldn’t imagine what he was talking about and quickly ran through the

possibilities. The till was off? No. The wine order wasn’t placed? Still no. I have no idea.

“Not that I can think of.”

“Interesting, because I have it on good authority that you had knowledge of a theft at

the pub and didn’t bother to tell anyone about it.”

Felicity’s heart dropped to her stomach. Shit!

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“I heard something like that, but I didn’t see it myself.”

“You have a responsibility to tell me or that makes you complicit in the theft. If you

didn’t want to tell me personally, the least you could have done was talk to the Ponce about

it.”

“I don’t see how I’m complicit in something I didn’t witness. It was just talk, and I

had no way to know what might be missing.” Which was not a lie, if she wasn’t friends with

Kit she wouldn’t have known anything and there was no way she was going to betray a

friendship for those two idiots. She managed not to say it exactly like that, fortunately. “And

frankly, if the Ponce will go back and check his phone, he’ll see that I called and texted him

the day after it supposedly happened and he didn’t have the decency to return either of them.”

“I’m letting you know that I’m going to pursue this matter with the authorities, so

don’t be surprised if the police show up on your doorstep. And I think it goes without saying

that you’re done here.”

“Fine. Do what you think is best. I’m not sure why you expect loyalty from people

and never show them any in return.”

“I expect them to do their jobs, which you never managed to do.”

“Goodbye, Nero.”

Felicity had been calm on the phone, but inside her nerves were shattered and she felt

like throwing up. The last thing she needed was any sort of drama over legal matters, even if

Nero was bluffing. She immediately called Kit to tell her about the phone call.

Kit was angry but not that bothered, “Who told him?”

“I’m not sure, but it could have been anyone. It’s not like it was a secret and every

single employee in that establishment knew about it and didn’t say anything. I’m not sure

why I’m the one being raked over the coals.”

As they were chatting, an email from Nero came through saying that they were both

barred from the pub pending ‘investigation’ into the matter, and if Kit would cover the cost of

what she took he’d let the matter drop.

“I’m not paying them anything,” she said vehemently.

“I’m not saying you should, but if he pursues this…well its fine for you, you’re not a

visitor here.”

“Honestly, I don’t have the money, Fe, even if I wanted to pay him. Not being paid

for a month over there killed me and I’m just now through training at my new job.”

“I understand. Don’t worry about it. It’s not like they have any way of proving it.”

She hung up the phone and went upstairs to talk it out with Maree and Leanna.

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After much discussion, Felicity decided she would pay the 80 quid he was asking for

to make it go away.

“If I’d still been the manager when it happened I would have told them about it and

offered to recoup the cost anyway, understanding Kit’s situation is a lot direr than mine.”

The other two girls agreed with her, and Felicity went back downstairs to email Nero

back. It took a couple of days to get it all sorted and for Felicity to return her pub keys. All

she could think when she dropped her keys off with George, was how stupid they were to fire

someone before removing their access to the premises. Just another good business practice

brought to you by Idiots #1 and #2. They were lucky two bottles of wine were the only things

to ever get taken. Considering how many people they fired for random reasons with no

documentation or evidence of wrong-doing, it was a miracle, really.

Felicity was infinitely sad that things had ended so badly that she wasn’t even allowed

to enter the pub as a customer. She knew that, theoretically, the ban was only put into place

until they got their money, but she would never feel comfortable walking through those doors

again. She tried consoling herself that Malin would be leaving soon. George and Gio also had

plans to get out as soon as they could afford to, and most of the staff she considered friends

had quit or been fired. Soon, the reasons she stayed through the worst of it, would all be

pursuing other things in life, and so would she. She and Malin were together and busy

making plans for a different and much brighter future, but even that only dulled the sharp

sting of such a uniquely beautiful time in her life coming to an end.

But, ever hopeful, Felicity held tightly to Friend Fox’s promise and her own belief

that her life would be exactly what it should be. It had been tumultuous at times, exhilarating

and painful, but the small moments, and there had been so many, made up for any of the

negative. Whatever came in her Ever After would be a surprise, a wild collection of little

coincidences, fate, and pure adventure, the same things that had led her to London and her

pub in the first place.

Epilogue

Things had been going well enough for the few months since she had last set foot in

the pub. Felicity had found a job at a nearby pub to get her through until December and she

spent her days seeing Malin and various friends she had made over the last year. Her degree

had come through and she was grateful to have passed. There had been some dark times for

her and Leanna on the days when one of them received yet another rejection letter to their

many job applications. But they spent the times it felt overwhelming, walking the river, or

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exploring the endlessness of London, constantly reminding each other that things would be

alright.

At first, they had considered throwing in the towel and heading home before their

visas expired, but Felicity refused to give up until the very last minute. She booked a flight

home, but scheduled it for the very last day her visa was valid.

Felicity, Maree, Leanna, Mass, and George were gathered for a pre-Christmas

celebration at the Crabtree pub, as in all likelihood Felicity would not be there to celebrate

with them. The girls raised their glasses in a toast.

“It’ll only be two short months,” George reminded her, taking a sip.

“Yes, not long at all,” Felicity said with more cheer than she felt.

She and Malin were still planning on finding a place together, and he’d been so

wonderful that it was almost like having Reggie back these days. He was going to stay put

until she returned and then would apply to his dream restaurants. With his natural talent, he

could do so much better than a small, badly-run pub. Felicity had been trying to feel relaxed

and confident in his feelings towards her, but worry dogged her steps, knowing that two

months apart would be hard to deal with. More than two months, she thought, as she

anxiously checked her phone. For the last two weeks, he had been too busy to see her much.

As if reading Felicity’s mind, George tentatively asked, “Have you been seeing much

of Malin lately?”

“No, actually,” Felicity answered grimly. “It’s been over two weeks.” Not liking the

concerned look on George’s face Felicity stammered on, “But it’s fine. I know that the

holidays are murder on him with all the menus and holiday parties to deal with, I’m sure he’ll

find a free minute soon.”

“That’s true, but there is something I need to tell you.”

George was interrupted by the sound of Felicity’s phone ringing. Like the Grinch or

the angel of death, Nero seemed to know precisely when to call to ruin the girls’ good mood

and holiday spirit. Felicity stared at the phone and then at the girls, as if it were a ticking time

bomb she wasn’t sure how to handle.

“It’s Nero, what could he possibly want?”

A mixed chorus of ‘Answer it!’ and ‘Don’t answer it’ came at her with full force.

“Thanks a lot guys, very helpful. Might as well face the music.”

She bit the bullet and answered. The other girls were deathly silent as they listened to

Felicity’s very short-answered side of the conversation. She managed to say less than a dozen

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words during the whole conversation, and hung up the phone. When she did, the others

pounced with myriad questions.

“Calm down! Sheesh!” Felicity rolled her eyes at them. “Well, it’s not like I haven’t

been expecting this call any day now, but now that it’s here…it’s time for us to move out it

seems. He needs the house for other staff.”

“By when?” Leanna asked, clearly worried.

“Oddly perfect timing, we can stay until the day I go home.”

Leanna had plans to move in with friends the week Felicity left anyway, and Maree

had planned the same.

“Well, let’s drink to timing then!” Leanna said, cheerily.

“And to being rid of Nero and the Ponce once and for all!” Maree took two big gulps

as if to make her point, and the girls laughed, lifting the slightly oppressive atmosphere

lingering from the call.

Mid-laugh, Felicity looked over to the front door of the pub to see Malin walk through

it as it opened. Her mood skyrocketed with the thought that he had come to surprise her. She

raised her hand to wave him over, but stopped short as she watched him hold the door open

for a small brunette to enter behind him. The girls were tucked into a corner and he didn’t

spot their group as he took the girl’s hand and led her over to a table across the room.

Felicity tried to quell the wave of nausea that was threatening to rid her of her lunch.

The others noticed her intent stare and followed her eyes to where the couple was sitting. A

collective gasp rose from the table; the gravity of the situation wasn’t lost on any of them.

They each turned to Felicity and tried to diffuse the situation by offering helpful suggestions

of, “Maybe she’s just a friend, cousin, etc.” The din of their voices drifted right past her,

every sound turned to dull background noise as she watched the scene in front of her.

It wasn’t until this moment that she realised how many differences there had been

between Reggie and Malin. This Malin had a glint in his eyes, his shoulders were relaxed and

open, his walk an easy saunter instead of taught, brisk strides - always in a hurry, and his

smile, that’s what differed the most. She recognised the look on his face because that’s how

Reggie had always looked at her, with a heart wide open. There was only one smile that

reflected that much emotion and she had never once seen it on Malin’s face when looking at

her. Yet, here it was, two personalities in one flesh, gazing at someone else. She watched as

their fingers intertwined and he pulled her hand over to kiss her palm. He hadn’t seen them,

because for him there was no one else in the room except this stranger that was inexplicably

sitting in the chair that should have been Felicity’s.

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It’s never going to be you.

The words from her dream drifted back to her in that moment and she felt a tiny prick

in her chest. The feeling multiplied until it felt like hundreds of knives stabbing her

simultaneously as it spread through her upper body. The sensation eventually left, replaced

by a vast emptiness as if the contents of her rib cage had been excised from within.

The cacophony of the pub burst inside her ears so loud she covered them from the

shock of it. She felt a tug on her arm, Leanna was looking at her with concern, “Are you

okay?”

“Yeah, can we get out of here?”

“Of course,” she reached for her bag, “Let’s go, ladies.”

“No way! I’m going to go over there and punch him in the face,” Maree declared,

indignantly.

Felicity laughed emptily at her friend’s bravado, “No! I’ll talk to him later. I want to

go for now.”

As they left, Felicity walked briskly until they were at a safe distance from where her

world had just ended.

George caught up with her, “I’m so sorry, Fe. I was trying to tell you when Nero

called.”

“Tell me what?”

“That girl he was with has been coming into work for the last couple of weeks now. I

wasn’t worried at first, since he was the one who had been so pleased to tell me when you

guys made it official. But the more she came in…I decided to ask him about her last night.”

“And?”

George paused, the words not coming so easily. Felicity braced herself for what she

already knew to be the truth.

“They met a couple of months after you got together. At first they were simply

chatting but two weeks ago it turned into something more.”

“What does that mean, ‘something more’? I don’t understand.”

“They’re dating. He said he was going to talk to you about it today.” George cleared

her throat and looked away, clearly withholding more information.

“You might as well get it all out, surely it can’t make anything worse than it already

is.”

Unwilling to say anything to hurt her friend further, George shook her head.

“Seriously! I’d rather hear it from you.”

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“Okay, well, I asked him about you and he said that he really likes this girl and that

you guys were never really serious anyway, that your time together was mostly about the

business you both want in the future. He said that you’ve been frustrating him a bit, acting

like it’s some epic love story.”

The empty space in Felicity’s chest suddenly filled with iron and she was seeing stars

as little bits of her brain set off fireworks behind her eyes. She bent over quickly as the

nausea had returned, gagging, struggling not to throw up. Her face felt like it was on fire and

she knew she needed to walk.

“I’ll meet you guys back at the Doll’s House later; I need some time by myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I need to process and think. Please let the others know.”

* * * * *

Felicity walked the river for a long time, lost inside her own head. It started to rain so

she climbed down the bank and huddled under her umbrella on the wet grass. She felt like she

was back inside the labyrinth, every attempt at reasoning out how this had happened only

leading to dead ends or around in a circle until she was back to where she had started. The

way out was accepting the truth, but how does the mind convince the heart of something

unfathomable. And what was the truth? She went dizzy even thinking it, but it was the

figurative punch to the face she needed repeatedly to someday understand…Malin had never

loved her. Was he attracted to her, sure, curious about her, sure, but that was the start and end

of it. He had made it abundantly clear in a hundred different ways that she refused to

acknowledge, making excuses for the behaviour that was never quite right, the words that she

imagined he wanted to say but never did. Maybe it had been a spectacular sham, Friend Fox

playing on her obvious emotions, she knew she could puzzle it all out for a hundred years and

never find an answer that would make any of this make sense.

She had spent her life wandering, never truly feeling at home, never finding any place

she wanted to stay. The pub, Malin, London – these things had called to her, convinced her to

put away her wings and land, and she hadn’t asked for any of it. It was as if the universe had

conspired to set it all in motion. Now, one by one, each had been ripped away. She had

always relied on her gut to tell her where to go or what to do but this time it had failed her.

Every signpost in her heart still pointed in the same direction but clearly she was wrong as

232

not only the pub, but now Malin and their future had disintegrated in front of her. Very

shortly she would be on a plane, and the last of it would fall way underneath her.

She had thought she needed to wait, wait until he was ready to love her, until the

‘spell’ was broken. She had seen right through to his soul that very first night and fallen in

love with all that was hidden, just waiting for time and circumstance to bring him to life. It

never occurred to her that when it happened she wouldn’t be the one he chose. She had

believed so strongly, so certainly in her instincts, that the most devastating loss of all was the

faith and confidence she had in herself. She was the one not to be trusted any further. That

thought set her adrift and Felicity questioned everything she had once thought concrete. She

thought about the promises broken, the false words thrown her way by Nero, the Ponce,

Malin: she had eagerly grasped each one and carelessly built herself a rickety tower of

dreams that had collapsed. But the decisive blow, the one that would finish off what was left

of her heart, was her own betrayal – for the biggest liar of them all had been she to herself.

* * * * *

Felicity made her way up the winding stone stairs, cautiously one by one, hand on the

wall to steady herself. She had been climbing for what seemed like hours and she was tiring

but couldn’t seem to stop putting one foot in front of the other. When she thought she could

absolutely go no further, the stairs stopped and a doorway opened ahead of her. She allowed

herself to stop for a moment to catch her breath, her legs shaking and heavy from the climb.

Using the last of her energy, she pulled herself through the opening.

The room was circular, with stained-glass windows evenly spaced along the stone

walls. Felicity wiped the sweat from her forehead, and moved into the large space towards

the long glass box that rested on a chiselled stone pedestal in the centre. The frosted panels

were held together with ornate, silver filigree, like a giant version of the antique jewellery

caskets she’d seen in a museum once. The air, which had been heavy and still on the way up,

was cool and so fresh and pure, there was a pleasant scent to it. She shivered, the skin on her

bare arms prickling from the chill. Felicity stepped up onto the ledge surrounding the frosty

casket, and peered into the clear cover. Unable to process what she was seeing; she froze in

place while trying to understand. The box was indeed a casket, and she was inside.

At least, it looked like her, the girl sleeping serenely on a silk-lined bed. Dark curls

carefully arranged across the pillow supporting her head, her doppelganger was dressed in the

same white, shimmery material the princess had worn. Paired with overly white skin, the

sleeping figure nearly glowed. There was only a dark patch in the middle, near her stomach,

233

and Felicity strained to make out the shape of whatever she had grasped in her hand. Rivulets

of red liquid trickled through her fingers and down, staining the material, and she could see a

tiny flutter of movement under her palm. Her twin’s finger wore the missing ring! What was

happening here?

She looked closely at the stirrings beneath the ring and finally made out the figure of a

bird, feathers so battered and torn, it was hard to see its original shape. But then she saw just

a hint of the rainbow colours underneath the blackish clots…blood. Her own blood rushed

down from her head far too quickly, and her chest heaved with sobs that wouldn’t quite come

up, stymied somehow, allowing no release. Her hand reached up to where she knew her heart

should be and desperately felt for the beat of it while she stared at the tragic little being. The

bird, once brightly plumed, delicate, and alive, now lay mangled, bleeding, and half-dead in

her own protective grasp. She breathed deeply but could not find her own pulse.

What have I done?

234

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