by Helen Harper
A strange expression crossed his face. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘you’ll fit right in here.’ He looked me up and down. ‘I like your blouse,’ he said. ‘The bright colour suits you. Is it yellow because of your name?’
‘No.’ Truthfully, I’d only worn yellow because I knew it would make me stand out. I wanted to be both noticed and remembered and every other faery godmother I’d ever met only wore muted, dull colours. ‘This is dandelion yellow, not saffron yellow. And dandelions are my favourite flower.’
The Devil’s Advocate looked skeptical. ‘Dandelions are weeds.’
‘They’re the colour of sunshine. They’ll grow in the toughest of soils and they can incredibly difficult to get rid of. Even when you think you’ve eradicated them, dandelions will still come back. They don’t like to be beaten.’
‘Hmm.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘They’re edible as well, right?’
I grinned and waggled my eyebrows. ‘Indeed. And they’re very, very tasty.’
‘I’ll take your word for that,’ he murmured, as the Director strode into view and a tremor of excitement ran through me at the sight of the ultimate faery godmother herself. He nodded towards her and walked off in her direction. She glanced at me. A sweet, indulgent smile lit her face then she focused on the Devil’s Advocate.
I watched the pair of them as they walked off and thought about what the Devil’s Advocate had said about fitting in here because I liked cutting comments. What was that supposed to mean? He’d changed the subject quickly enough and I could hardly run after him and ask him to clarify himself. Not unless I wanted to make myself look completely crazy in front of the Director anyway. I might have already made myself look nuts as it was by flirting slightly with the Devil’s Advocate. Tasty dandelions? I sucked on my bottom lip. As if. I shrugged – anyway it didn’t matter. Nothing would dent my enthusiasm. Not him. Not my daft runaway mouth. Not even HR.
Chapter Four
The atmosphere in the Human Resources office was remarkably subdued. The dope faeries’ HR office was located in a temporary cabin in one of those building sites where no work was ever completed but which was permanently cordoned off. Despite its desolate air from the outside, once you were in, the team there always did their best to make you feel comfortable. Their fruit scones were legendary. By contrast, this HR office looked spick, span and stylish – and gave off the sort of vibe that could create severe depression in even the healthiest faery. Rupert’s comment about its soul sucking nature had been spot on.
I stood at the front, hoping that sooner or later someone would approach me. When no-one did, I shrugged to myself and made a beeline for the closest desk, occupied by a tired looking man whose skin didn’t seem to have seen the sun for at least the last decade.
‘No,’ he said, without looking up. ‘I haven’t heard anything new on any of the disappearances.’
I blinked. ‘Disappearances?’
He finally raised his head. Something indefinable flickered in his eyes. ‘You’re the new one.’
‘I am.’ I smiled prettily. ‘Bright-eyed, bushy tailed and ready to work.’
He snorted. Then he seemed to think better of it and looked around in case any one else other than me had heard his derision. ‘You need to go and see Angela,’ he told me. ‘She’s got all the paperwork you need to fill out. Once you’ve done all that, come back to me and I’ll sign you off. Then you’ll get your first list of assignments from Adeline.’
‘Where will I find Angela?’ I inquired.
He gazed me as if I had marshmallow for brains. ‘Third desk on the right.’
‘Thanks.’ I turned to go. A moment later, however, I glanced back. ‘Who’s been disappearing?’
The man didn’t answer. In fact, he was intent on pretending he hadn’t heard me. My eyes narrowed slightly. That was okay though. I’d find out what was really going on by other means.
Angela was clearly the sort of faery who couldn’t let a good – or bad – ornament pass her by. When I located her desk, I could barely see her behind her collection of fripperies. There was a snow globe of Disney’s Cinderella castle, which I supposed was some sort of ironic homage given where Angela actually worked; an impressive collection of fuzzy gonks with googly eyes that followed me around, even when I attempted to shift out of their gaze; several tiny glass figurines, and at least three Lucky Cats of varying sizes and colours. Angela herself was slumped over a sheet of paper, a stub of a pencil in her mouth.
‘No,’ she muttered. ‘No. Yes.’ She retrieved the pencil, ignoring the trail of saliva which dangled from its tip, and made a small mark. ‘No. No. No. Maybe.’
‘Hi. I’m Saffron!’
She peered up through her half moon glasses. ‘Ah, yes.’ She spoke with a vaguely Irish lilt. ‘We’ve been expecting you.’ She scrunched up her face and leaned to one side, opening up a drawer and heaving out a vast tome. It landed on her desk with a thud, causing the glass figures to judder in response. I squinted at the title. Rules and Regulations for Faery Godmothers and Fathers. Edition 119. It was a good five inches thick.
‘You need to read that by the end of the week,’ she said, her tone implying that if I didn’t then hellfire and brimstone would await me.
‘I love reading!’ I blurted out. My enthusiasm was still getting the better of me.
Angela stared at me. ‘Great,’ she said flatly. She pushed another piece of paper in my direction. This is your renumeration package. You will be paid monthly. There may be a raise once your probationary period is over but that will depend upon your performance.’
I looked at the figure. No, I wasn’t here for the money but this was less than half of what I earned as a dope faery. It was also below the normal starting salary for a faery godmother. For any faery godmother. I had rent. And bills. I swallowed. ‘And how long is the probationary period?’ I asked.
‘That is at our discretion.’ She gave me a steely eyed glare. ‘If it’s a problem, I’m sure your previous employer will be happy to have you back.’
I thought about the empty desks out in the main office space. And the other HR worker’s comment about disappearances. Not to mention the Devil’s Advocate. Did I dare? I’d probably work here for free if it came down to it. I suspected, however, that this was as much of a test about my future here as the interview had been.
‘Yeah,’ I said slowly. ‘I think you’re right. They will be happy to have me back.’ I lifted up my chin. ‘Thank the Director for the opportunity. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out. And if you happen to see the Devil’s Advocate again, do tell him that I’ll be more than happy to chat to him some more about his written reports.’ I nodded at Angela and started to move away.
My heart was hammering against my chest and my brain was screaming at me. What had I done? I was a bloody fool. I …
‘Very well, Ms Sawyer,’ Angela called out. ‘We can perhaps negotiate your salary somewhat.’
I breathed out. Then I straightened my shoulders and returned.
‘I don’t want to negotiate,’ I said, feeling somewhat emboldened. I grabbed a pen from Angela’s desk, bent over and scribbled out the derisory number on the original salary offer before writing down my own version. ‘That’s what I was earning as a dope faery less ten per cent because of my lack of faery godmother specific skills.’ I shrugged, pretending I didn’t care either way. ‘Either give me that or I walk.’ I paused deliberately. ‘If you require time to discuss it with the Director, I’m willing to wait.’
Fortunately for me, Angela knew when she was beaten. Her jaw tightened. ‘That won’t be necessary,’ she muttered. She signed at the bottom of the paper and passed it to me to do the same. So this had been a shake down then. Angela had no doubt reckoned that she could persuade me to take whatever I was given, regardless of whether the Director sanctioned it or not. If I’d been greeted with a friendlier atmosphere over the last hour or two, I might have accepted it. I allowed myself a congratulatory smile for not being a complete pushover. Then I signed on
the dotted line.
‘You still have to read the manual,’ Angela told me with a sniff.
I picked it up off her desk. It weighed a ton. ‘No problem.’ I gave her a nod. ‘Like I said, I enjoy reading.’ I hefted it under my arm before reaching my free hand down to lightly caress the head of one of the gonks. Angela bristled visibly. ‘Cute.’ I met her eyes. ‘Very cute.’ I smiled again. ‘Thanks for all your help. I’ll be sure to mention what a great asset you are when I speak to Adeline again later.’
Angela forced her own mouth to curve upwards. ‘How nice of you.’
I stayed where I was.
‘Is there something else?’ she asked, her voice sugar sweet.
‘Now you mention it, there is. I believe I have some equipment to collect as well.’
Angela twitched. ‘Go down the hall to your right. Billy will sort you out.’
‘Fabulous.’ I still didn’t move.
She sighed. ‘Go on. What else?’
‘There should also be some training,’ I prompted.
This time, Angela’s smile was genuine. ‘Oh yes. Once you’ve finished up with Billy, get him to direct you to the conference room. I’ll make sure everything you need is ready and meet you there.’ She picked up the snow globe and shook it. ‘Training.’ She smiled again. ‘Your wish is my command, Ms Sawyer.’
Uh oh. All of a sudden, I had a very bad feeling about this.
***
‘You have to sign for everything you take,’ Billy said. ‘If you lose anything, or it gets damaged, you have to replace it.’
I bobbed my head. ‘Fine. No problem.’
He handed me a pile of pink material. I stared down at it, then at him, then back at the material again. ‘What’s this?’
‘Your uniform. What else would it be?’
I shook the material out and gave it a dubious frown. I’d seen the odd faery godmother in action before. I’d never seen any of them wearing this shite. ‘I’m afraid I’m still unclear as to what it actually is.’
Billy took it from me. ‘I’ll show you.’ He snapped his wrists and, with a deft flourish, swung the material round him. This was obviously not his first time.
‘Oh, it’s a cloak! Now I see.’
He pulled up the hood and tied the ribbon at the neck into a perfect bow. ‘It needs to be freshly laundered every day. It’s best if you use a good fabric conditioner too.’
‘Pink is definitely your colour, Billy,’ I told him.
His cheeks went the same shade as the cloak. ‘I helped to choose it. It’s one of the new initiatives. You know, so that all the humans believe you’re a faery godmother.’ He lowered his voice and leaned towards me. ‘There are a lot of sceptics out there.’
‘Mmm.’ I gave him a serious nod. ‘I can see how the cloak will help then.’
He picked the hem up and thrust it in my face. ‘It has sparkly bits. See?’
‘I do see. Thank you for the demonstration.’
‘It’s waterproof,’ he said earnestly. ‘And fireproof.’
It didn’t matter what proof it was. I was still going to look like a pink blancmange. I couldn’t complain about it, however. Dope faeries tended to wear dirty jeans and holey t-shirts with the names of various grunge bands written across the front. They didn’t have real uniforms. Maybe the pink monstrosity would make me feel like I belonged here, especially if all the others wore them when they were out on the streets.
‘Everyone wears these?’ I asked, wanting to double check that this wasn’t some sort of hazing ritual.
Billy’s eyes went wide. ‘Oh yes. Miss Adeline said every godmother has to wear their pink cloak whenever they are with clients. The godfathers have to wear blue, of course.’
I grimaced. ‘Of course.’
He clocked my expression. ‘If you don’t identify as male or female,’ he said, his eyes dropping momentarily to my breasts in a manner which was less lascivious and more cursory, as if he had to double check my gender, ‘then you wear yellow. And we have to call you a godperson. There was an email about it,’ he added. ‘Equality in the workplace is important.’
Mmmhmm. There was nothing like forcing people into different colours to make them feel equal.
‘Rule number one,’ Billy told me, ‘the boss is always right. Rule number two, when the boss is wrong, see rule number one.’
I gave him a distracted nod. It stood to reason that the faery godmothers were old-fashioned. It was the longest standing faery job role, after all. It was steeped in tradition. And at least they were trying to join in with the times. ‘I was told that everyone pretty much used godmother, not matter what gender they identify with.’
Melodramatic alarm flitted across his face. ‘But they shouldn’t!’ he said in a shrill voice. ‘They really shouldn’t! It was in the email!’
I decided that I was beginning to understand him. ‘Rules are rules. I am a faery godmother and I will wear pink.’
He gave me a long look. ‘Well,’ he said finally, ‘that’s okay then.’ He undid the bow at this neck and handed the cloak back to me. I made a vague attempt at folding it up into a neat square again before deciding to drape it over my arm instead. Folding had never been my forte.
Billy turned away towards a battered steel cupboard, opening it up and pulling out a clunky looking laptop covered in brightly coloured stickers, no doubt from a previous owner. ‘The password is ‘faeriesdoitbetter’,’ he said. ‘No spaces or capital letters. You should change it first thing. You’re already configured for email and stuff. If you have any problems with it, contact IT support.’
‘Got it.’
He tapped the laptop sternly. ‘Check the calendar daily. You don’t want to miss any meetings. Sometimes they’re set without much notice and you’ll get into trouble if you’re late.’
There was something about the way he said that which gave me pause. ‘How many meetings are there usually?’
Billy’s face darkened. ‘Lots. Lots and lots and lots.’
I shrugged to myself. I wasn’t a fan of meetings. Who was? But this was the Office of Faery Godmothers. Meetings were a necessary evil. ‘Is that everything?’ I asked.
For the very first time, Billy smiled. It transformed his face, making him look both younger and more relaxed. He held up his index finger and shook his whole body. To begin with, I wondered if he was having some sort of mild seizure. Then I realised it was pure giddy delight. ‘There’s one more thing,’ he said. He waggled his eyebrows. ‘You know what it is.’
I placed my palms together as if in prayer. I didn’t want to get my hopes up unnecessarily but I was beginning to tremble myself. ‘Is it…’ I bit my lip, almost unwilling to say the word out loud, ‘Is it my new wand?’
He cocked his finger and thumb towards me. ‘You betcha.’
Chapter Five
I turned the wand over and over in my hands. It was far sparklier than the one I’d had in my previous job. When I swished it through the air there was also a pleasing whooshing sound. Of course, all faeries possessed inherent magic that could be done without the use of any such tools. Wands like this one enhanced our natural skills however. Not to mention that, given the nature of the job, using it added a certain flourish which helped clients believe that we were all above board. Or so I’d been told anyway. Naturally, it had come with all sorts of dire warnings about misuse and Billy had made sure that I signed in triplicate that I understood what would befall me if I were to lose it or damage it. It was a rather plain looking thing, made of dull, unvarnished wood. I made a mental note to customize it, possibly with a sparkly tassel, as soon as possible. I wouldn’t go too over the top, however. I wanted everyone to know I meant serious business.
Resisting the temptation to start waving it around like a complete numpty, in case anyone was watching me through the glass walls which separated the conference room along two sides from the rest of the office, I leaned back in my chair and gazed at the various posters which adorned the brick wall to
my left.
If You Are Not Willing To Learn, No-one Can Help You. A photo of a cute kitten was super imposed beneath the words but, rather unfortunately, the comic sans font somewhat distracted from the message.
You Are Not Here To Be Average. Hmmm. I scratched my head. Someone had to be average though. Someone had to be below average. Otherwise average didn’t exist.
Look In The Mirror – That’s Your Competition. Not going by the welcome I’d had from the other faery godmothers. I was already beginning to sense that this place was as cut-throat as you could get.
Craning my neck, I read the other posters dotted along the wall before allowing myself a small snort of disappointment. For some reason, I’d expected more from this office than trite phrases. Perhaps Billy had pinned them up when no-one was looking and leaving them in place was simply the path of least resistance. I stared at the smiling, heavily Photo-shopped picture of a young beaming faery holding up her wand and tried to wheel my chair out of her fixed line of sight. Alas, I could swear her eyes were following me around the room.
‘What are you doing?’
I jumped. Angela was standing in the doorway and frowning at me. Someone should put a bell around her damn neck.
‘Uh, I was just …’
‘Those chairs aren’t toys. They’re expensive, ergonomically designed pieces of architecture. Not racing machines.’
Ah. No doubt at some point that was indeed what they had been used for. I had sudden visions of various faeries scooting themselves from one end of the office to the other. My money was on Rupert as the instigator. He had that sort of air about him.
‘I was moving round so I could see the posters more clearly,’ I said, lying through my teeth.
Angela gave me a suspicious look. ‘I put those up. It’s important to keep up morale in order to boost productivity. There’s been a three percent increase in workflow since those posters were put on display.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ I grinned enthusiastically. ‘They’re fabulous.’