Page 62 of Short Stack 3

We stop talking as a hooded figure strolls past. It’s carrying a sack from which pancakes, rose petals, and popcorn fall, scattering over the path. Cosmo shakes his head. “I never realised what people dream about.”

I blink. “Do you not dream?”

“No, my love.” He purses his lips as a large butterfly flutters past, the breeze from its wings blowing our hair back. It’s carrying a big net, and we step into the shadow of the house. “And I am beginning to believe that humans are quitemad, Barnaby.”

“You’re not wrong.” I take his hand and squeeze it. “So, what do we do now? We really can’t live like this forever, and Mrs Cooper is going to go barmy when she sees the elephant shit in the hall.”

“Oh, my goodness,” he says, looking both alarmed and amused. Then he groans. “I am unsure what to do, Barnaby.”

“What?”

“This magic is beyond me. It seems to have taken light and grown in strength.”

“Ah, well, that’s wishing trees for you,” someone says from behind us.

We gasp and spin around. There, sitting on a bench, is the Holly King. He’s dressed in an old mackintosh with a pink jumper, stripy trousers, and boots with a hole through which I can see his toe. He’s also somewhat incongruously eating a bag of chips.

“My lord,” Cosmo says, inclining his head respectfully. He nudges me, and I jerk and do the same.

“Nice to see you again,” I mutter.

His lip twitches under his luxurious beard. “Wishing trees are old magic, Cosmo. I’m not surprised that it got away from you, my lad.”

“Old?” I say.

He nods, his eyes twinkling. “And very powerful. You see, wishes and dreams have an extraordinary power of their own to create havoc and chaos. A wishing tree is a wild thing.”

“Can you help?” Cosmo asks as he pulls me out of the way of a purple giraffe that races past us. He clutches me to him, his eyes protective.

The Holly King finishes the last chip and looks around helplessly. I sigh and step forward to take the bag from him.

“Thank you, my boy,” he says. He winks at me. “And are you still happy, Keeper?”

I meet his eyes with difficulty. His gaze is powerful and ancient. “Always,” I say softly.

He gives his smile that has a wild edge to it. “Ah, I like this little corner of my land. It is always filled with love and laughter.” He pauses and waves his hand in a languid gesture. I hear the ringing of a bell, and a silence descends that’s so absolute it makes my ears ring. Then, slowly, the sound seeps back in — the wind in the bare branches of the trees and the chuckling of the water in the fountain.

A robin lands on a branch near me, its breast cherry red. It trills something, and the Holly King nods. “Thank you, my little friend.” He looks over at us. “All is done.”

Cosmo beams. “Really? Oh, thank you, my lord.”

The Holly King looks at him affectionately. “Always such a big heart, my boy. You’ll never lose that.” That makes me smile, and the Holly King stands up, stretching. “Well, I must be off. There are many miles to travel before my power is at an end for the year.”

“Is everything okay here now?” I ask. “What about when people talk about what they saw?”

He runs a hand through his wild hair, and I inhale the sharp scent of pine. “Their memory of the magic has vanished. All they know is that they must come back next year.” He looks around with satisfaction. “I believe money always helps in the keeping of the King’s Wood, Barnaby.”

“You havenoidea,” I say fervently.

His chuckle is rich with that familiar dark and almost scary magic to it. “I was told that you have some elephant dung to clear away, Cosmo.”

Cosmo droops. “Yes, my lord.” He sighs, and I start to laugh.

Later that night, I stir at Cosmo’s side. We’re sitting in the gardens near our fountain. The water tinkles melodically, and lights dance in it — pink, green, red, blue, gold, and silver. I stretch, feeling Cosmo’s arm tighten over my shoulders. My body feels pleasantly sore. We’d made love in the fountain, and then afterwards, he’d wrapped us in warmed blankets that smelled of his magic. I watch my breath crystallise in the cold air.

In the distance, the woods rustle and move as if wishing us a merry Christmas, and the stars are big and bright.

“Look, my Barnaby,” Cosmo says, and I turn and look where he’s pointing. The fairies are out. I’ve seen them before with Cosmo but never fail to marvel at the magic that was right under my nose for all these years. They’re dancing in the wild garden, and they gleam and glow in the moonlight. I realise they’re all holding small orbs of white lights as they sway under the full moon.

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