Faerie Wars

Thirteen

It had clouded over and begun to rain by the time Henry reached his road. He plodded miserably towards his house. Mr Fogarty's voice sounded like a refrain in his head. Your mother. She wants you to get home. At once. Home at once. Home at once. At once, At once. He'd a pretty good idea why his mother wanted him home at once.

Despite the cool touch of the rain, Henry's face was burning. He simply couldn't believe what he'd done. Stood in the street in front of Anais and cried like a baby. Huge, racking, incoherent sobs with blubbering attempts to apologise without knowing what he was apologising for.

She came over to him. That was the worst bit. She came over and put her arm around his shoulders and cuddled him as if she was his mum or something. 'Oh, Henry, what is it? What's wrong?' He'd let her hold him. She smelled nice and she was soft and warm. But now he felt guilty, as if he'd betrayed his dad. 'Do you want to talk about it?'

He didn't want to talk about it. How could he talk about it behind his father's back? Besides, he couldn't speak for sobbing. He just stood there, his head pressed to her breast, and cried. Then, to finish him completely, a stream of snot poured from his nose all down her crisp, white blouse. It went on and on and he couldn't stop it. The awful thing was she didn't make a fuss. She didn't even move, just kept holding him and stroking his hair and asking what was wrong, as if she didn't know already.

His house came into view and he noticed at once his dad's car was in the driveway.

His mother must have seen him through the window because she met him at the front door. She managed to look anxious, furious and guilty all at once. 'Where on earth have you been, Henry? Didn't Mr Fogarty tell you to come straight home?'

Been blubbing at your girlfriend, Mum. But instead of answering, Henry pushed past her, head down, dripping water on the Welcome mat. He wouldn't bet on getting much of a welcome today. His dad emerged from the kitchen and grinned at him weakly. 'Your mother's a bit upset,' he said.

Henry shrugged out of his coat and hung it to drip from the hallstand. 'You're soaked,' his mother said. 'Go up and change your clothes before you catch your death.'

'I think I'll take a bath,' he said, just to be bolshie. He knew they wanted a family conference.

He stood there dumbly, watching the conflicting emotions cross his mother's face, and felt a tiny twinge of guilt, a tiny twinge of satisfaction. Eventually she said, 'Yes, all right, but don't be long.'

The bath was a bad idea. He lay in the warm, soapy water, looking up at the light fitting and feeling afraid. Whatever happened next wouldn't be good and he wished now he hadn't put it off. They might get divorced. They might ask him and Aisling to go into a home. He couldn't see how to work out anything that wasn't a disaster. AOS. All Options Stink. He closed his eyes and wished there was somewhere he could go to hide.

He put on clean jeans, but the only shirt he could find was that stupid lumberjack thing Aunt Millie had bought him for his birthday. He stared at it blankly, then pulled it on. What the hell, he wasn't making a fashion statement.

They must have been listening out for him because they both shot out of the kitchen while he was on the stairs. 'We're in here, Henry,' his dad said. 'Can you come in a minute?' He hesitated, then added briskly, 'Things to discuss.'

Henry tramped into the kitchen without a word.

His dad tried to take charge. 'This would be better if your sister was here, but we thought it best to have a talk as soon as possible. We can fill in Aisling when she gets back at the weekend.'

Welcome home, Aisling. Your mother's run off with my secretary and I've booked my passage to Australia. They really should change the wording on the mat.

'Do you want to sit down, Henry? Will I get you tea or something?'

His mother cut in tiredly, 'Don't waffle, Tim.' To Henry she said, 'I understand you've been talking to your father?'

Henry nodded and walked over to the fridge. There was half an apple inside, neatly sliced on a small plate. He bit into it and it tasted like sawdust. He went to the table and sat down, staring at them both with large eyes. At least he didn't think he'd blubber now. He was all cried out.

'I suppose the first thing I want to say is this has got nothing to do with you or Aisling, Henry,' his mother said. 'I mean, it obviously concerns you, but I want you to know you're not…' She gave a stiff little shake of her head. '… you know, to blame or anything like that.' She actually tried to smile.

She'd been reading her psychology books. Parents divorce, children get it in their head they're somehow to blame. Years later they're spilling it all out to some shrink. Henry said, 'I don't think anybody's to blame.' And surprised himself. It sounded far more grown-up than he felt.

His mother blinked. 'Well, no. No, of course not. I just wanted to make sure you…' She let it trail.

Poor old Dad stuck his oar in again. He wasn't really a match for Mum, but he was a fairly big deal executive after all, so he wasn't exactly a wimp. He said, 'The thing is, Henry, something like this changes things. That's inevitable, whatever people want – '

Henry's mother said quietly, 'You agreed to let me handle this.'

With just a flash of anger, Henry's dad said, 'I was only trying to reassure him – ' But he let it go.

Henry's mother said, 'Your father told me about his conversation with you this morning and we've been discussing the situation. Trying to decide what to do, really. He's been – ' She looked embarrassed and a little green. 'He's been very understanding.' She dropped her eyes. 'Probably more than I deserve.' After a moment she looked up at Henry and said in an explosive breath, 'We've been talking most of the day and we realise we're not the only ones involved in this. There's Aisling. And there's you. I mentioned Aisling first because she's younger and less likely to understand. You're older, so… Anyway, the point is that neither your father nor I can just think of ourselves and what we want. We, ah, have to consider what's best for Aisling and you. And ourselves too, of course.'

Henry's mind wouldn't function. He could usually second-guess his parents by a mile. Now he'd no idea whether his mother was trying to prepare him for the divorce court or the firing squad.

'What I want to tell you,' his mother said. 'What I want to tell you is that we've talked this through from every viewpoint and I suppose the first thing to say is that we're not going to get a divorce. We don't think that would be fair on either of you.' She licked her lips. 'But we are going to separate.' She stared at Henry, obviously trying to gauge his reaction. After a moment she said, 'You needn't worry – nothing's going to happen right away. It'll take several weeks, maybe a month or so, to get everything organised. And we won't be separating completely. We'll get together from time to time, like family, so it'll seem more like, you know, long holidays, trips abroad, that sort of thing.' She wound to a halt, still staring at him.

'Who gets the house?' Henry asked dully.

Henry's mother glanced across at his father, who said nothing. His mother said, 'We thought it would be easier if your father moved out.' She waited for Henry to react and when he didn't she said almost eagerly, 'It's logical really. He can find somewhere nearer his work.' She forced a smile. 'You know how often he has to sleep at the office – it'll really be much easier for him.'

Henry stared at her. She actually believed it.

His mother said, 'This house is nearer the school.' She meant her school, where she taught.

'Who gets the kids?' Henry asked.

'Don't put it like that!' his mother pleaded. 'It's not like we're splitting up the family.'

'How else should I put it?' He felt numb inside, as if he didn't really care any more. He just wanted to know what was going to happen.

His mother sighed. 'We thought it would be less of a disruption if you and Aisling stayed here. With me. You wouldn't have to relocate, or make new friends or change schools or anything. Everything would just… you know, go on as before. Your father would visit -visit often.' She forced the smile again. 'You might even see him more often than you do now, with everything that's been going on at the office.'

Bad choice of phrase, Mum, Henry thought. Aloud he said, 'Will Anais be coming here?'

His mother hesitated and looked at his father again. She licked her lips nervously. 'Eventually… and obviously only if it's all right with you and Aisling… I would, ah, hope Anais might… visit, maybe even stay over sometimes. Just to see how we all get along.' Since she couldn't look him in the eye, she looked out through the window and added, 'Long term, who knows.'

'So long term Anais might move in?' Henry said.

'It's possible,' his mother admitted. 'But only if you and Aisling were happy about it.' She was watching him again, still hoping for a reaction. After a moment she said, 'Might be fun, Henry. Sort of like having two mothers.' She blinked. 'You like Anais.'

Sure he liked Anais. What wasn't there to like? But two mums? No thank you. He was having enough problems with one. To his father he said, 'All this OK with you, Dad?'

'I don't like it,' his father said, 'but it seems the fairest way.'

Fairest? His mum has the affair so she takes the house and the kids and kicks Dad out to find another place. Then she moves her lover in. If she'd convinced Dad that was fair, she should be selling used cars.

'How do you feel about it, darling?' his mother asked.

Henry shrugged. She didn't care what he was feeling. Why should he get into it? 'It's what you and Dad have agreed.' He stood up.

'Where are you going?' his mother asked at once.

Henry stared at her numbly. 'To see Charlie,' he said. 'Mrs Severs is expecting me for tea.'

His parents looked at one another as he headed for the door. 'You won't discuss any of this with Charlie, will you?' his mother called after him.

'She's what? asked Charlie when he discussed it with her.

'Dad has this secretary called Anais. Mum's having an affair with her.'

'Your mum's, like, gay?'

Henry nodded.

'Wow!' said Charlie. 'Cool!'

The rain had proved to be a passing shower, so they were together in the Severs's garden. Mrs Severs, who had the idea children never grew up, served them a tea of sausages, crisps, popcorn, jelly and a garishly pink cake, then left them to their own devices. The remnants were scattered across the garden table, along with two empty lemonade bottles. Henry had been surprised by the extent of his appetite. He hated what was happening, but now he knew the worst, he had the weirdest feeling of relief.

'You think it's cool my mum's a lesbian?'

'Sure. Don't you?'

'Never really thought about it like that.'

'I have,' Charlie said. The gay thing, I mean – not your mum. The girls talk about it a lot at school.'

'Do they?' Henry asked, surprised.

'Yes, of course.' She cast an overtly innocent glance towards the sky. 'Some have even… dabbled.'

'The girls at your school?'

'Yes.'

'With each other?'

'Of course with each other – that's the whole point! It's supposed to be a phase you go through.'

'Have yow?' She couldn't have. But then this morning he'd believed his mum couldn't have either.

Charlie laughed. 'Not my thing.' She tossed her hair. 'You're not upset, are you?'

'About Mum? Yes, I am.'

'That's terribly old fashioned, Henry.'

'I don't care,' Henry said. 'It hurts my dad.'

Charlie looked thoughtful. 'I suppose it does.' She was a short girl with fair hair and blue eyes. Outside school he'd never seen her wear anything but jeans and a boy's shirt. Sometimes he thought she was nuts, but the thing about Charlie was you could talk to her. About anything. The other thing about Charlie was she never told. She said, 'What are you going to do?'

'Me? What can I do?'

'Dunno,' Charlie admitted. 'They going to divorce?'

'They say they're not,' Henry said, 'but it's bound to come.'

'What are they doing now? Staying together for the sake of the children? ^ 1 She rolled her eyes.

Henry nodded. 'Something like that.'

Charlie put her hand on his arm. 'I'm sorry, Henry, this is really upsetting you, isn't it?'

Henry bit his lip and nodded again. 'Yes. Yes, it is.'

Charlie said, 'My mum and dad divorced.'

Henry frowned. 'What – they got back together again?' Mr and Mrs Severs had always struck him as an easy-going couple without a care in the world.

Charlie gave a little smile. 'Peter's not my real dad, Henry.'

'He isn't?'

Charlie shook her head. 'Mum divorced my real dad when I was three. Or four. He used to come home drunk and beat her up. She stayed with him for the sake of the kids – well, this kid really. One night he broke her arm and knocked me out of bed on to the floor. I got bruised and cried a lot. Mum decided enough was enough. Walked out with me under her good arm and hired a solicitor. She met Peter eighteen months later and it was a lot better second time around.'

Henry was staring at her open-mouthed. 'I didn't know any of this.'

'No,' Charlie said, 'nobody does. When Mum remarried, Peter formally adopted me so I got his name as well as Mum. Peter's all right.'

'But what about your real dad?'

'What about him?'

'You ever see him?'

Charlie shook her head. 'Nope.'

'Not ever?'

'Nope.'

'Where's he living now?'

'Don't know.'

'Don't you want to see him?' Henry asked.

Charlie shook her head again. 'I don't even know what he looks like,' she said as if it were some sort of a triumph. 'I can't remember and Mum burned all his pictures. She says he's a turd.'

'Sounds right,' said Henry seriously.

Charlie suddenly grinned brightly. 'Anyway, the whole point is you're not the only one with a delinquent parent. Just that mine disappeared a long time ago. Thing is, Henry, it worked out well. Peter's as good a dad as anybody. Better than my real dad. They're happy together, more or less. You never know, this thing between your parents might be good in the long run.'

'Doesn't feel like a good thing now,' Henry said. To his horror he felt his eyes begin to fill again. He tried to turn away, but Charlie spotted it.

She did exactly what Anais had done. She came across to his plastic garden chair and put her arm around his shoulders and cradled his head to her chest. She was only really starting to grow breasts, so it didn't feel the same and somehow he managed to stop himself from crying.

Still holding him, Charlie said, 'Must have been a heck of a day.'

A butterfly fluttered past on an erratic course towards the hedge. Henry started, then relaxed. You don't know the half of it, he thought.