The Fairy Lantern and the Fox Doll

The Midwinter Islands

Sam wandered Grandma Lacy's house listlessly. After the excitement of the beach and the sunset coast, exploring the old three storey house was draining. Sam searched the house that echoed with silence, looking for pictures of dragons. There were strange holes in Sam's knowledge and Sam was convinced only a dragon could explain them. A sound caught Sam's ears, and pulled the teenager to the furthest room of the top floor. No one was in that part of the house that Sam knew. Sam's confusion only grew when Sam recognised the source. It was the sound of Alice crying.

"Mum?" Sam peaked through the not quite closed door. "Are you...umm."

Alice looked up from her hunched position on the large double bed covered in white lace. Her face was blotched, her eyes red. The room lay in darkness, only a single window given late afternoon light. "Oh darling, I'm sorry. Did you want something?"

Sam took a further step into the dim room. "No, mum. I heard you...and wanted to...um."

Alice wiped away her tears, and straightened her back, her blonde hair catching the glow. "Oh no, Sammy. I'm fine. I'll come and make a cup of tea -." A strangled sob broke out of her before the next set of tears streamed down her cheeks.

Without thinking Sam rushed to his mother's side and held her tight. He acutely aware that he was Alice's only son, her only supportive male presence. He didn't know why it mattered, but it did.

"Why are you crying alone, mum? Why don't you want to tell me what's wrong? We're family. Share with me, I reckon it'll help."

Alice laughed and wept at the same time into her son's shoulder, holding him as tight as she could. The low light pushing them closer. "Oh, Sammy. I've been in the same position as you with my mum, and she'd never tell me. It was always after Dad left and it made me feel so helpless to watch my usually strong mum cry in her room alone. And then when I'd offer help, she'd say she was fine and we'd make a cup of tea. The memories, they just..."

Sam kissed his mum's head gently. "It's ok to cry with me, mum. I can take it. Let's not have a cup of tea. Let's talk instead. I don't want you to repeat that pattern with me."

Alice cried out as if in pain, and then became calm, all her tears banished for now. "I didn't get to say goodbye to her, or Dad, or your father in some ways. He just...left us, me, you. It all keeps going around and around in my head. I thought packing this place up would be saying goodbye, but it's just brought back memories of all the unspoken secrets that went on around me. It's making me feel so lost. I don't know what to do. I don't want to sell, but why would we stay? And now you're being secretive with Ashley. It makes me happy to see you two getting along, but it brings up such memories. I didn't want to put this on you, love. I'm sorry."

Sam held his mum's head to his chest, his back straight as he could make it, and let guilt swallow him for a moment. She knew what was going on, and had put up with it for so long. Just like Lacy and Kirla, Ashley and Sean Maddoc. They'd both been left out, and it hurt. Reality came crystal clear while he held his mourning mother. Looking around, adjusting to the new perspective, Sam's eyes were caught by two pictures on the bed-side table. One was of the family when Alice was twelve. She looked exactly the same as Sam did in the fairy world. Young Alice stood next to Lacy who sat on a chair, Sean Maddoc standing behind with large yet gentle hands on their shoulders. In the shifting afternoon light, the eyes of Sean Maddoc flared green.

Beside the family portrait was the painting of an icy dragon in half light surrounded by water, it's spikes were icicles and it's eyes deep blue. The search suddenly over, Sam was jarred out of his soberness.

"You ok, Sammy?" Alice asked with a husky voice. She looked up at him with compassionate blue eyes still murky with tears.

Sam nodded, knowing he was keeping secrets from her, hoping it was the last time. If the dragon was who he thought, it would definitely be the last time.