The new Accounts Manager at the potions factory stared in horror at the columns of numbers in front of his eyes. A month had passed since the demise of the Fairy Godmother and already he had made a monumental cock-up of the balance sheets. Fairy Godmother, being rather good with profit margins and price-fixing, had ensured the factory always made a decent turnaround and was always in profit. Despite her huge salary in comparison to the workers in the factory, her personal control of stock, sales and THE BOOKS had enabled her to keep tight control of the finances of the business.
The new Accounts Manager did not measure up the Fairy Godmother in any business respect. He did not understand which raw ingredients were needed for potions, so had delegated that responsibility to Jerome. The new Accounts Manager was also incapable of understanding invoices and returns and in desperation had drafted a team of workers to work in the new "shipping department." On top of this, most of the highest priced potions could no longer be made as they needed someone with magical ability to mix them and no one had yet been found to replace Fairy Godmother. As this included all of the effective love potions the drop-off in profits was crippling the company, as was the decline in quality of the potions they could still make due to the fact there was no longer a fairy to assess the quality of the finished product. He sighed and looked back at the numbers, columns jumbled, "monies in" blending half way down the page into "monies out." He looked back at the bank statement from that morning. It was so much easier to understand, but somehow that didn't help him much. At the top of another mash of numbers, the bank statement declared that the company was now in overdraft, something FGM Inc. had not encountered since it was first established.
Sighing, the new Accounts Manager played with his long, tangled hair and sat back. He was seated in the old office; the Fairy Godmother's desk in front of him covered in paperwork. He stood and walked to the office door, took one look around the office, then exited to the reception area. Jerome was working hard, fielding calls from frustrated clients who wanted to return potions that had failed. Far worse in Jerome's opinion were the rich clients who demanded to speak to the Fairy Godmother right now and who couldn't accept that this was in fact impossible regardless of how much money they offered. Not that he hadn't considered donning a purple wig and a dress when one noble offered enough money to allow him to retire immediately after the meeting. In between calls, frantically covering the crystal ball on his desk to prevent any more incoming, he waved to the accounts manger.
"Good morning, sir. Is there anything I can do for you? This came – I signed for it." Jerome thrust a long, narrow package at the accounts manager and turned back to the crystal ball. He took a deep breath to steady himself and uncovered it, releasing a flood of incoming calls.
The new Accounts Manager started to open the package in his hands. It was the new nameplate for Fairy Godmother's desk – no, his desk. The brass plate was decorated in swirled italics.
"Managing Director, Accounts Manager, Public Relations Officer and Head of Personnel," was scrawled across the top of the plate whilst underneath, in larger font, was engraved "Prince Charming." He couldn't help feeling that his mother's plaque had said so much more with the two simple words "Fairy Godmother." Feeling angry at the state of the company since he had inherited it a month earlier, he tossed the nameplate idly onto a chair as he left for what he hoped would be a calming walk.
Charming tried to run his fingers through his hair, but found that the tangled mess on top of his head was resisting his efforts. Were his mother still here, she'd have insisted he had a haircut at least a week ago. He was sure he was losing hair – he'd never actually had to cope with money before, 'mummy' dealing with that more complicated part of his life. As far as Charming was concerned, outwitting evil tyrants and fighting dragons was enough of a complication without trying to factor in a mortgage and savings account. He stormed off across the bridge, picked up a stick and attacked a few helpless blades of grass. His bad mood exacerbated by memories of his mother, he sat down under a tree.
Mother. He'd never really thought about her leaving him until it had already happened. He had always assumed that because she was a fairy, she would have a longer life than him and would therefore always be there for him. She should have been there for him, he thought bitterly, if it was not for that bloody ogre and that ridiculous princess. An unbidden thought at the back of his mind nagged that it was technically his mother's idea to try to split up the royal couple and that had she just allowed them to live happily ever after and not tried to kill them, she would still be here with him. Charming shook that thought away. He was cursed, from his point of view, with a conscience that was more prominent than his mother's and now it was screaming that she had, in fact, got exactly what she deserved. While Fairy Godmother was capable of admitting (to Charming) that some of her actions were extreme, she would have had no qualms about continuing with her plans until Charming was king of Far Far Away and had been guaranteed a 'happily ever after,' regardless of how many people were harmed in the making of this happy ending. Charming remembered a conversation years ago, when she'd explained that a conscience and feelings could sometimes be your own worst enemies.
He turned his thoughts back to her, trying to remember how she'd run the factory, trying to work out what he had done since that was so wrong. He was far from useless – he would never have survived his numerous quests if that had been the case. The endless bureaucracy of the factory was depressing Charming – he preferred the simple, kill-or-be-killed world of the hero, a world where someone would thank you for saving them from a dragon, not sue you if you spoiled their dress while doing so. He was starting to hate Far Far Away, especially now that he had no mother to buffer him from the negative effects of the so-called modern world.
Charming got up and wandered back to the cottage, skirting around it to the garden he'd built to remember his mother by. There had always been some flowers around the back of the cottage, but Charming had decided to make a memorial for his mother at the factory and, given that he had been robbed of the chance to give her a grave, had turned the simple flower beds into an elaborate rose garden. He fondly remembered her wandering through the rose garden at the castle and knew she would have loved this place. Roses had always been her favourite. Unbidden, tears welled up in Charming's eyes. The pressures of work faded as he felt the pain of losing the only parent he had known building again in his heart. Hidden from view and alone with his thoughts, Charming knelt next to a large climbing rose and started to weep uncontrollably. He turned his face to the sky and let out an anguished cry.
"Mummy!"