Our Fairy Godmother

There was no denying that Aimee and I could use a helping hand, from whatever source!

THERE it goes again, Mummy!” Aimee grinned up from under her hood as the little pink sports car whizzed past us. It was like a streak of strawberry milkshake racing down the rainy street.

Aimee and I had decided only one person would drive a car like that – a Fairy Godmother. We only ever caught the briefest glimpses of her blonde bobbed hair and scarlet lipstick. Not your traditional Fairy Godmother, I admit, but they wear all sorts of disguises these days.

Every time we spotted that pink car, we made a wish.

“Quick, Aimee! Close your eyes.”

I smiled down at her innocent face, screwed tight with concentration. Then, in case the Fairy Godmother really was listening, I closed my own eyes.

Straight from my heart flew one simple wish.

“Please let me be able to protect my daughter for as long as she needs me.”

“All done, Mummy?” Aimee asked, her eyes snapping open.

“All done,” I agreed. The pink car rounded the corner by our bus stop and sailed out of sight.

“I didn’t wish for a kitten this time,” Aimee confided.

I tugged her out of the way of a stray black umbrella that was bowling along the pavement towards us in the gusty wind.

“I’m sure you’ll have a kitten one day, Aimee. But not while we’re in the flat. OK?”

She nodded, accepting the unwelcome limits of our lives without argument.

I tried hard to make things up to her.

For her father who promised to visit, then let her down.

For being stuck in a council block on the demolition list.

For my hotel receptionist job, which meant working shifts and weekends, but still not earning enough for Aimee to have the clothes, gadgets and holidays her friends enjoyed.

“Love is what matters,” my mum always said.

Luckily, we had plenty of that.

When we got to our block, the lift was out of order. Again.

“Should have mentioned that to the Fairy Godmother,” I muttered as we climbed the stairs.

Our windows hadn’t been updated in years either. By bedtime the wind was whistling through the gaps in the frames, blowing the curtains inwards as if ghosts hid behind them.

Stormy weather was nothing new, yet I felt scared for Aimee. I kept padding into her room to check on her as she slept peacefully under her favourite flowery duvet.

So why was my pulse galloping, on red alert? Was it the memory of that sad umbrella, lost and torn, hurtling in our direction?

It was a relief when the sky began to turn from inky black into bleak, grey morning. Looking at the streets below, I could see fallen branches and a scattering of litter.

I made some strong coffee. At least it wasn’t a day I was due to work. It meant I could take Aimee to school myself, instead of relying on my mum.

As we reached the school gates she ran into the playground to chatter with her friend Faye. A tall, dark-haired man turned towards me – Faye’s dad.

“I’m sure I was never so eager to get to school at their age,” he joked. “Nor me,” I replied.

All of us school-gate mums knew his wife had died when Faye and her brother were tiny. Like me, he counted on family to help with the kids, so we weren’t often at the school at the same time.

When we were, it was ridiculous how I found myself stupidly tongue tied.

He moved a couple of steps nearer.

“Faye tells me your Aimee is mad on cats.”

“Just a bit.” I groaned. “She can’t pass by one without cooing over it. I don’t know where she gets it from.”

“Faye’s the same. The thing is, we’re looking after my sister’s Persian for a week. It’s spoilt rotten, but very pretty. Would Aimee like to come back with Faye after school to see it? You, too, of course.”

“Oh, Aimee would love to. Although –”

A sudden breeze sent a chill through my veins. Competing messages clashed in my mind. Here was this thoroughly nice man, who’d been through the most awful tragedy. He seemed genuine; caring. And I felt a thread of electricity between us that had nothing to do with children or cats.

“I can drop you both home afterwards,” he added.

“Well, thank you, then,” I said at last. “I’m Megan.”

He stuck out his hand and I shook it. “Gareth.”

All through the shopping, queueing at the bank and rattling home on the bus, I had the jitters. Lighten up, I scolded myself. This thing with Gareth was hardly a date. I’d only said yes for Aimee’s sake.

It was bad enough that she already missed out sometimes, with things costing so much. What harm could there be in a quick audience with a pampered Persian puss?

So there I was that afternoon, hanging around the school gates, slightly smarter than usual.

“Hi, there.”

Gareth was at my side. I saw his eyes were hazel. Irrational worries rippled through me again for a second. Then Aimee charged out of the gates.

“Mummy, Mummy! Can I go to see the cat? Faye said her dad was going to ask you. It’s called Princess Pudding and eats lots of sardines.”

“Yes, honey. We’ll both go. But we mustn’t stay long.”

The four of us piled into Gareth’s car, spun round to the secondary school to collect Faye’s brother, and headed off.

While the children bickered good-naturedly in the back, Gareth talked about his job at the gym.

I didn’t take much in. For some reason, the blood was pounding in my ears.

Nerves, I told myself. Since my divorce I’d lost confidence around rather delectable men.

A sudden sick feeling overwhelmed me. I yanked at the top buttons of my coat. It was no good. I had to get out of that car.

“Could we stop for a minute?” I gasped. “I need some air.”

Gareth pulled over and I stumbled out. I paced up and down the road, gripped by the same fear I’d experienced during the night. Was this a panic attack? I tried to calm myself, but I could neither describe nor control the dread in my stomach.

“Can I do anything?” Gareth called, concerned. “I can take you home if you prefer.”

As quickly as the terror had overwhelmed me, it left, the sense of danger passing.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling foolish. “I’d a lot of running around to do today, and I didn’t sleep well, what with the gale. I’ll be fine now.”

We resumed our journey, driving down a lovely avenue of detached houses. Gareth slowed to a halt. “What on earth?” There was a commotion on the pavement. I saw a huge tree had fallen across someone’s drive and demolished half the garage. Gareth was ashen. “Not yours?” I asked in horror.

He silenced the engine and got out.

“Stay in the car,” I told the children, sliding out to see if there was anything I could do.

A lady spotted us. “Gareth, thank goodness,” she said, bustling over. “There was a tremendous crash not ten minutes ago. We all ran from our houses to see what it was. The tree must have been damaged in the gale. If you’d been any earlier bringing the children back . . . Oh, best not to think about it!”

Open-mouthed, Gareth turned to me.

“Ten minutes ago,” he echoed.

Together we looked at the tree across the drive. Any car beneath it would have been flattened.

The police arrived, and a fire engine.

“Anyone inside the house?”

“The cat, Daddy,” Faye yelled from the car. “She’s in the conservatory.”

A fireman took Gareth’s keys and went in. Princess Pudding was collected, yowling at the indignity of being stuffed into a plastic cat carrier.

Gareth’s parents came to take him, his children and the cat to their house. His neighbour drove me and Aimee home.

Once more we wearily climbed our stairs, and moved the damp letters from the mat on to the kitchen worktop.

We spent the evening huddled on the sofa, eating pizza. I tried not to show Aimee how shaken I was.

Ten minutes, I kept thinking. Ten minutes which saved us all.

I didn’t know what had guided me to make Gareth stop the car. A mother’s intuition?

I phoned my own mum and shed a few tears. As usual she made me feel better about everything.

Coming off the phone, I saw the letters still on the worktop. I opened them.

One charity request. One reminder from Aimee’s dentist. And the third . . .

“Oh, Aimee!” I cried, reading the whole thing twice to make sure. “What, Mummy?”

“It’s from a housing association we applied to ages ago. They have a little house that might suit us. We can go and look at it.”

Aimee looked pleased with herself.

“I asked the Fairy Godmother to find us somewhere better to live.” “No!”

“Yes!”

Suddenly I remembered my own wish. I’d asked the Fairy Godmother to help me protect Aimee. And I’d done it.

But that wishing game was nothing but a bit of fun between the pair of us. Wasn’t it?

I called the hotel for a favour. They agreed to swap me on to the late shift next day so I could take Aimee to school. I thought the shock of our near miss might have unsettled her. Besides, I had to know how Gareth and the kids were.

“The garage took the worst of it,” Gareth told me when we’d left our girls at the school gates, with extra hugs. “The insurers are going round, and the house has to be inspected to make sure it’s safe. But hopefully we’ll be back there soon.”

“I’m so glad.”

He put a gentle hand on my arm.

“Megan, what happened yesterday? Did you have a premonition or something?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” It was easier to let him think that than start prattling about Fairy Godmothers. Perhaps I’d tell him one day, I thought. If we became better acquainted.

Ever since then I’ve been searching for the little pink sports car. I owe a huge debt to the driver. The odd thing is, Aimee and I have never seen it again. The Fairy Godmother must have moved on.

I guess there’s somebody else out there who’s in line for a wish to come true.

As for Gareth, after the rubble and the remains of the tree were cleared, we went for coffee.

The following week, we went to a Thai restaurant. And then, we took all the kids to a film.

So I may not see that little pink sports car any more, but I am seeing lots of Gareth. We’re both learning how to laugh again. And to count our blessings. n

I didn’t know what had guided me to make Gareth stop the car