Emily & The Truth Fairy

Emily had made up her mind that she would not let it happen again.
And she had managed it for two whole days. Well, nearly two. The shrubbery where she hid was
warm with sunlight. The noise of her classmates at break was close, but they wouldn't
find her here. She felt horrible inside as she remembered the last lesson.

‘Where is your homework, Emily?’ Miss Wood had said.
Quick as a flash, Emily had replied ‘The dog ate it, Miss Wood’.
The whole class had laughed. Emily went hot at the memory.
‘Quiet, please, class. I didn't know you had a dog’
‘Oh, yes, Miss. He's a Rottweiler’.

Miss Wood was trying to imagine a Rottweiler handled by Emily's tiny mother, and
trying not to laugh.
‘You must stay after school, and write out a hundred times, 'I must hand in my
homework on time’. You should have written it again on a sheet of paper to show me
that you had made the effort, now sit down, and we can get on with the lesson.’

Emily felt like crying.
‘I'm a horrible liar’ she told herself miserably. ‘But it won't do any harm...’
‘That's not true, either’ said a voice.
Emily jumped. ‘Who said that?’ she demanded.
‘I did’
Emily couldn't see the owner of the voice anywhere.
‘Who are you?’ Emily was edging toward the way out of the shrubbery, in
case it was one of the school bullies, ready to pull her hair and chant ‘Liar, liar, your
pants are on fire.’
‘Wouldn't it be more honest to ask where are you since that is what you
wanted to know first, and then ask who?’
Emily snapped: ‘All right then, where are you?’
‘Temper, temper!’ mocked the voice.
Emily said a rude word under her breath.
‘Now, no need to swear’
‘I didn't’
‘Not true’ the voice retorted.
‘Oh, go away!’ said Emily.
‘You don't want me to do that, either’ said the voice. ‘You want a friend.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because it's true’
‘How do you know it's true? - I didn't tell you, so you can't possibly know
what I want.’
‘I know because I am who I am. Look up into the cherry tree, and you'll see
how I know.’

Emily looked, and her mouth dropped open in astonishment. Above her on the branch
sat a tiny figure, about six inches tall, with larger wings that looked like a dragonfly's,
with the sunlight chasing rainbow colours through them. Emily rubbed her eyes and
looked again. The figure was still there, so -

‘No, you're not dreaming,’ the figure floated down to a branch closer to Emily.
‘And don't sit there with your mouth wide open like that - it reminds me of a
boa constrictor I saw once’.
Emily closed her mouth, only to open it again
‘But you're not real’
‘Oh, don't give me all that. Honesty's the name; species: Fairy, smaller than
elves, pixies, gnomes and dwarves, habitat, where they choose to be, observed; only
when they want to be seen - ‘ The bell for the end of break interrupted her.
‘Bother!’ said Honesty ‘I'll be waiting here for you at afternoon break. I want
to talk to you,’ and she vanished.

For a moment Emily sat where she was, until the sound of the second bell rang. They
were going into class - and it was art first lesson. She hurried to the edge of the
building, peeped out to check whether anyone was looking, and scurried toward her
classroom.

‘Oh, no,’ she muttered, ‘they’ve gone in’ Taking a deep breath, she knocked
and went in.
Mrs. Sanger looked up ‘Where have you been Emily, you're late’
The excuse came to her head fully formed Sorry, Mrs Sanger - I had a bit of a tummy
upset ... But no, she mustn't do that.
‘I was talking to someone and it made me late’ she stammered’
‘That sounds like the truth’ Mrs Sanger remarked. ‘Sit yourself down and we'll
get on with the lesson, when you're quite ready.’
Emily sat.

‘Today, I want you to paint something with leaves - there are some on the
table, both dried and fresh. Look closely at them; notice the shape, and colour,
what they feel like. This lesson we'll think about painting what they really look like - next
week we'll play around with the idea of leaves.....’

Emily loved art lessons. She began to draw some leaves of the cherry tree, carefully
mixing the colours. As the leaves took shape, other leaves crept in among the cherry
tree ones, shaped like a skirt around tiny legs, tiny wings - very difficult to get them
right... Emily was lost in concentration, when Mrs. Sanger's voice made her jump;

‘That's very good, Emily. But I thought we were going to play around with the
idea of leaves next week’
‘I'm sorry, Mrs. Sanger - it just sort of happened...’
‘I can see that. I like the Honesty leaves she's wearing. You must have really
seen how their leaves are...
‘Honesty's her name’ said Emily, without thinking.
‘I like the idea ... but come up to the front a minute.’
What have I done wrong now wondered Emily, as, blushing crimson, she went up to
Mrs. Sanger’s desk. On the easel next to the desk, Mrs Sanger showed her how to
make the colours in the wings.

‘Have a go on a spare sheet of paper - don't make it too wet.’
Emily stumbled back to her desk in a daze. She tried several times to get the effect
she wanted, until the bell rang for break.

‘Do you want to finish that next week? Perhaps we could put it in the end of
term display’ ‘Yes, Mrs. Sanger, thank you’ was all the amazed Emily could manage before
she hurried back to the shrubbery.

There was no sign of the creature anywhere.
‘I must have been dreaming. Silly of me to think there are really such things’
‘Fairy’ said a familiar voice.
Emily spun round. Honesty was on a branch at eye level
‘I’m not a creature. I’m a fairy; found in Fairy Tales.’
‘But I've always been told that fairies aren’t real.’
‘The trouble with grown ups is that they tell you what they believe is the truth,
but they’re not always right’ Honesty was swinging to and fro on the branch.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Emily.
‘The sky is blue, right?’ replied Honesty.
‘Right’
‘Wrong. It's only blue sometimes - I'll show you’
Suddenly, Emily saw the sky dark grey with scudding clouds, purple with an
approaching storm, crimson with a sunset, and green with floaty bits on it.
‘That last one was lovely.’ Emily gasped.
‘Fish eye sky view’ answered Honesty ‘Now do you see what I mean?’
‘I think so’ Emily felt a bit dazed. It had been quite a day, and it wasn't over
yet. ‘Think about it. I can see you've' been having a lot of trouble with truth, and
all for the wrong reasons. It isn’t possible for you to tell the truth the whole time’
‘But I've got to tell the truth, it’s the right thing to do!’ protested Emily.
‘No, since you can only tell the truth as you see it, you can only be honest.’
‘But I know what’s true!’
‘All right, I'll try to show you again’ Honesty thought for a moment ‘Maths
lessons are horrible, aren't they?’
‘That's true!’ Emily agreed.
‘Not so!’ Honesty said, triumphantly. ‘Look!’
Emily found herself looking down at a page of maths. The numbers all made sense,
and she felt a sense of fun as they all slotted into place as her pencil worked at a
furious pace to keep up with her thoughts. She noticed the name at the top of the page,
and it was Tom Adams who always came top in maths.

‘I'd hate to be like that!’ Emily said with feeling ‘I love painting’
‘But do you see what I'm showing you?’
Emily tried to think clearly. I hate maths lessons. Tom loves them. I love art lessons.
Tom hates them.
‘So, it would be true to say that I find maths lessons horrible, but not
everybody does?’ ‘Quite right. It's not the lesson in itself that’s horrible- maths lessons can be
interesting, boring, too long, too short, difficult or easy. What you meant to say is that
you don't like maths lessons. That is the truth, isn't it?’
‘But that’d mean I'd have to think how I say anything’ ‘That’s why I said you can't tell the truth the whole time. It takes a lot of
thinking about. You can quite honestly believe something that is quite untrue. It’s
only dishonest when you know the truth and don't admit it. Then it’s a lie.’
‘I don't understand it all!’ complained Emily.
‘Nor do most grown-ups. Most of them don't even think about it; too
uncomfortable.’
‘How do you mean?’ Emily asked.
‘Take the slave trade. Slaves were thought worthless; bought and sold like
animals. When some people realised this was wrong, they tried to change the way
slaves were treated. But it caused a lot of trouble with the people who made money
by selling the slaves, and those who couldn't admit they'd been wrong.’
Emily said. ‘I remember doing that story in history.’
‘That wasn’t just a story, Emily, it really happened.’

‘Then how do I tell if it’s pretend, or if it’s real?’
‘By taking the trouble to think about it’ said Honesty
‘I can’t. Before I can think, out comes a whopper’
Honesty laughed ‘I know! It wasn't just a dog - it had to be a Rottweiler’
Emily found herself laughing too. ‘But it isn't funny!’
‘It's like the slave traders, Emily; they didn't want to admit they were wrong.
Lying to cover it up only makes it worse, doesn't it?’
‘Yes’, agreed Emily, somehow feeling a lot better about it.
‘And it makes you unhappy’
Emily sat looking at Honesty for a moment; ‘You're not very beautiful, for a
fairy.’ ‘Ever heard of the plain truth?’ Honesty sounded cross.
‘I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you’
‘See you later, then’ Honesty vanished abruptly, as the bell rang for the end of break.

Emily was just beginning her lines in detention when a movement on her desk caught
her eye. There was Honesty, in plain view, and the teacher couldn't see her. Suddenly
the lines Emily had written were repeated down the page.
‘It wasn't your fault you didn't get your homework done this time. If you'd
only told Miss Wood about Jason's accident last night, you wouldn't have got yourself
into such a fix’
Emily didn't dare reply as Mr Armstrong was looking at her;
‘Have you finished your lines?’
Emily frowned. She hadn't finished them. Honesty had.
‘My lines are finished, Mr Armstrong’, she replied
‘Good try’ said a voice in her ear Emily heard a tinkling laugh fade into the
distance.

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