Faerie Wars 01 - Faerie Wars Read Free

asked without looking at it.

    Henry felt his stomach tighten. 'I'm not hungry.'

    His father sighed. 'I'm going to have the lot -- I need it. You sure you don't want something? Scrambled egg? Toast? Cup of tea?'

    'Cup of tea,' said Henry, smiling weakly, just to shut him up. He wished he'd never asked about Anais. His father's sudden change was positively scary. Henry didn't want to know about Anais. He'd only asked so Dad could say, 'Anais? Of course not -- don't be silly.' Which was what Dad did say, more or less. Except Henry didn't want to hear his mum was having an affair either. His mum having an affair was just as bad, maybe worse. And who was she having it with} Henry had never seen his mother look twice at any man except his dad. Maybe Dad was just plain wrong. Maybe it would all turn out to be a misunderstanding.

    The swing door swung open and a young waitress hurried out carrying two plates of eggs. 'Hi, Tim,' she said as she walked past.

    'Morning, Ellen,' Tim said shortly.

    Henry blinked. Looked like his dad came here quite often. For some reason that felt just a little spooky. There seemed to be too much about his parents that Henry didn't know.

    The waitress Ellen came back, tugging a notepad out of her apron. She was a pretty brunette, maybe eight years older than Henry, wearing a tight black skirt, a white blouse and sensible shoes. The shoes reminded him of Charlie, who kept saying she preferred comfort to looks and always would, even when she grew up.

    'Usual, Tim?' she asked cheerfully. When he nodded she glanced at Henry and grinned. 'Who's the hunk?'

    Henry blushed. Tim said, 'My son Henry. Henry, this is Ellen.'

    'Hi, Henry, you want a heart attack as well?'

    'Just tea,' Henry murmured. He was aware he was blushing and that made him blush more.

    'Got some nice scones,' Ellen said. 'Fancy one?'

    'Yes, OK,' Henry said to get rid of her.

    It didn't work. 'Plain or raisin?'

    'Plain,' Henry said impatiently.

    'Butter or clotted cream?'

    'Butter.'

    'Strawberry jam or marmalade?'

    'Strawberry.'

    'Gotcha,' Ellen said. She closed her notebook and went off at last.

    'Nice kid,' Tim remarked.

    'You come to this place often, Dad?'

    Tim shrugged. 'You know ...' he said vaguely.

    Henry looked out through the window. 'You want to tell me about Mum, Dad?'

    The bacon, eggs and sausages must have been waiting in a bain-marie because Ellen carried them right back through the swing door. She had a teapot in her other hand. She set the plate in front of Tim. 'Your scone's coming,' she told Henry.

    They waited in silence as she bustled away and returned immediately with a scone that shared its plate with a pat of butter and a tiny plastic tub of strawberry jam. Henry stared at his father's breakfast, thanking heaven he hadn't ordered the same. The bacon was fat and the eggs were hard. With absolute revulsion he noticed there was a kidney lurking behind the fried tomato. This was his father's usual?

    Ellen gave him his scone and laid out cups and saucers. 'Milk's on the table,' she told them as she left.

    Tim glanced at his plate, then at Henry. 'You sure you don't want some of this?'

    Henry shuddered and reached for a knife to cut his scone. The sooner it was started, the sooner it would be over. 'I want you to talk to me, Dad.'

    'Yes,' his father said, 'I expect you do.'

    Tim Atherton so didn't want to tell his son anything. But he talked. He poked at his breakfast and talked and once he started, he couldn't seem to stop.

    'You know your mum and I have been having ... problems ... don't you, Henry?' Henry didn't. At least not before this morning. He opened his mouth to say so as his father said, 'Of course you do, you're not stupid. And you're not a child any more. You must have seen the signs -- God knows they're obvious enough.'

    They hadn't been obvious to Henry. To his profound embarrassment, a tear oozed out of his father's eye and rolled down his right cheek. The worst of it was Dad