As Hodge washed himself to regain his dignity, Henry cautiously opened his hands to take another peek. The creature looked dazed. Its head was twisted to one side, possibly as a result of being chewed by Hodge. There might have been blood on one shoulder, but it was difficult to tell.
Henry forced himself to consider what he was holding, even though he knew it was more or less impossible. It was a little winged man of sorts. Well, actually a little boy. Or not a little boy exactly – he looked somewhere around Henry's own age – more of a young man, but tiny. He was wearing clothes: a jacket and breeches that might be dark green – the actual colour was difficult to tell. The wings were dun, marked like a grizzled skipper butterfly.
Henry swallowed. 'Who are you?'
The fairy – it had to be a fairy – clapped his hands to his ears and tried to launch himself out of Henry's grasp. Henry slid his thumbs across quickly to block the exit. He opened them again a slit and asked again more softly, 'Who are you?'
It occurred to him suddenly that he was assuming an awful lot. In all the storybooks, fairies could talk. But what happened in real life? What was a fairy anyway? It looked like a little person, but since it clearly wasn't human, maybe it was some sort of animal. It was weird thinking of fairies as animals – or insects, an errant thought intruded: they had wings like insects – but maybe that's what they were. Just poor dumb creatures. Very rare poor dumb creatures…
And if they weren't, who said they spoke English?
It was kind of dark inside his cupped hands, but he thought he saw the fairy's mouth move. No sound came out. Henry decided to assume it understood English and said very softly this time, 'I'm not going to hurt you. I rescued you from the cat.' He had a sudden inspiration and added, 'Nod your head if you understand me.'
The fairy's head poked out between Henry's hands and nodded.
'Will you promise me you won't try to fly away if I open my hands?'
The fairy's head nodded again enthusiastically. Henry started to open his hands and the fairy tried to launch himself out again. Henry snapped them shut. 'Oh no you don't!' He carried the fairy into the shed and looked around until he found an empty jamjar. Carefully he dropped the creature inside and covered the mouth with one hand while he manoeuvred the lid. He screwed it tight and held the jar up for inspection. The fairy was gripping his throat and writhing in a pantomime of suffocation. 'Oh, all right,' Henry said. 'You keep well clear.' There was no way he was going to loosen the lid, but he did punch a few air-holes in it with his penknife. The fairy watched and kept well clear. Obviously he was no dumb animal.
What now? What did you do when you caught a fairy?
A thought occurred to him. He pushed it away, but it came right back. After a moment, feeling really stupid, he asked softly, 'Do you grant three wishes?'
The fairy cupped his hand around his ear.
Henry licked his lips. 'Do you grant three wishes?' he asked again, more loudly this time.
The fairy nodded vigorously, then pantomimed unscrewing a lid.
'Oh, no,' Henry said firmly. He had the feeling he was being got at. Only little kids believed in three wishes. But then only little kids believed in fairies. He scratched his head. What was he going to do?
Maybe Mr Fogarty would know. Mr Fogarty had one big advantage over Henry: he actually thought fairies existed. That probably meant he'd studied them. Maybe he'd never seen any, but if you read enough books, one of them usually told you what to do. The more Henry thought about it, the more it seemed sensible to show the fairy to Mr Fogarty. Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed the jamjar and dropped it into the pocket of his jacket.
He found Mr Fogarty in the kitchen, making a mug of instant coffee. 'You finished?'
Henry shook his head. -'Haven't really started yet.'
'You want coffee?'
'No. I – '
'Good,' Fogarty said, 'because this is the last. Goes on the supermarket list tomorrow. Instant Crap with Toxic Additives, one jar, large. Food stores? Should close those places down.'
Henry didn't want to get into that. He said, 'Can I show you something, Mr Fogarty?'
For some reason Fogarty became instantly alert. 'Did you find it in the shed?'
'No, not in the shed exactly. Outside actually.' The jar caught in his pocket as he tried to drag it out, but he freed it eventually.
Fogarty bent over, frowning, to look through the speckled glass. 'Some sort of kid's toy?' The fairy moved. 'Good God!' Fogarty exclaimed and jumped. Then he grinned. 'That's good. That really got me going for a minute. What is it – radio control?'
'It's a fairy,' Henry said.
They sat facing each other, the jarred fairy on the kitchen table between them.
'You think it can talk?'
'The lips move, but I can't hear anything,' Henry told him.
'Could be pitch,' Fogarty said. 'That thing's vocal cords must be really short. Any sound he makes has to be in the high register, like a bat. Can you still hear bats?'
'Squeaking?' Henry asked. 'Yes, I can.'
'You lose it when you get older. Something happens to your ears. I haven't been able to hear a bat in fifty years.' He looked back at the fairy. 'Or it could be volume, of course. Not much lung capacity there either.'
'He can hear me,' Henry volunteered. 'And understand.'
'Oh, he'll understand all right. They're intelligent little scrotes, by all accounts. Dangerous too.'
Henry frowned. 'How can something that size be dangerous?'
Fogarty looked at him soberly. 'Animal cunning,' he said. 'They lure you into Fairyland and then they have you.'
He couldn't mean what Henry thought he meant. 'Like… magic or something?'
'Weight of numbers,' Fogarty snorted. 'Some of them have poisoned stings, like African bees.'
'You really think there's such a place as Fairyland?' Henry asked. 'A sort of… magic place?'
'Why do you keep going on about magic?' Fogarty asked him sourly. 'I'm talking about another reality. Don't they teach you physics at school?'
'Actually – '
But Fogarty wasn't listening. 'Einstein – you know who Einstein was?' Henry nodded. 'Einstein figured there were about a billion universes next door to this one. Quantum boys say the same thing, some of them. You never hear Hoyle's Different Spouse Theory? Every morning you wake up beside a different spouse because you've moved into a whole new universe, only you don't know it because now you've got a whole new set of memories.' He caught Henry's expression and added, 'Never mind that. I'd say that thing's from a parallel universe. Any sign of UFOs?'
Bewildered, Henry shook his head.
The fairy was sitting cross-legged in the jamjar, staring out at them. If he could hear their conversation, he gave no sign.
Fogarty said, 'Take the top off.'
'What? What happens if he flies away?'
'Where's he going to go? The windows are shut and the back door's closed. Besides, if he tries that I'll get my fly swatter.' Fogarty grinned suddenly. 'Heard that, didn't he? Sneaky little scrote's listening to every word. Look at his expression. Fly swatter for you, my lad, if you try anything stupid. Got that? Comprendez?'
Inside the jar, the fairy nodded.
'Told you,' Fogarty said to Henry. 'Take the top off.'
Henry reluctantly unscrewed the lid and set it on the table beside the jamjar. After a moment, the fairy reached up to the rim of the jar and pulled himself out. Henry noticed he didn't use his wings much. He dropped down on to the table, watching Fogarty warily.
'Now, listen,' Fogarty said. 'I think you and me need a little talk, boyo. Trouble is, you can hear me but I can't hear you. But I can fix that. If it's pitch or volume I can rig something. Won't be pretty, but it'll do the job. Now you can do this the hard way or the easy way. You can try running off or flying off or whatever it is you do, but you aren't going to get far. I won't use a fly swatter. That was just a joke – you're far too valuable. But I can catch you, easy as pie, in a butterfly net and when I do, you're going back into that jar. So what's it to be? You going to be good?'