• Part 1
• Part 2
• Part 3
• Part 4
• Part 5

“There might be a slight problem with that,” says my mother.
“Look ‘ave you got the book or ‘aven’t you?” asks Aslef.
“Oh we have it,” says my mother. “However to get it, I had to mislead the trolls somewhat. They believe they’re getting it back next week.”
“Wot?” says Aslef, his voice turning hard. “That ain’t my problem sweet’eart, now ‘and it ova.”
“I don’t have it with me,” says my mother. “And I’m not giving you anything until you can guarantee our safety from the trolls.”
“I ain’t guaranteeing nothin,’” says Aslef.
“Well I ain’t givin’ you the book,” says my mother, mocking his accent.
Aslef’s nostrils flare but he says nothing.

“Maybe,” says my mother, “I’ll just give the book directly to your uncle. He’s the rightful owner anyway and when I tell him where you are, he’ll make you hand over Elle himself!”
Aslef snorts, sending a little shot of fire out of his nose.
“You’re bluffin’!”
“Try me,” says my mother.
“Well you can’t enter the dragon’s caves anyway, innit? Cos you ain’t a dragon, okay?”
“Easy,” says my mother. “We’ll all go to the Forest of Dean. You bring Elle, we’ll bring the book and we’ll do the exchange with your family there. Got it?”

For a moment I think Aslef is going to incinerate my mother on the spot but he shrugs and says, “Alrigh’ then. I’ll meet you lot ‘ere tomorra. We can fly.”
“You can fly,” says my mother. “I’ll get the train. I don’t trust you. I’ll meet you there at 2pm.”
She turns and heads out towards the road.
“Wait for me,” says my father.
“No, Leonard,” says my mother. “You and your hair can go home with your son. I can’t stand the sight off you.”
“Mum,” I say.
“No, Edgar,” she says. “I can’t deal with either of you right now.”

My father doesn’t say a word the whole way home and when we get to my flat he sinks into an armchair with his head in his hands and ignores me.
“Dad, do you want a drink?” I eventually ask.
“No,” he says. “I don’t feel like drinking.”
I can’t recall a time my father didn’t feel like drinking. I see his shoulders start to shake and I realise he’s crying.
“Dad,” I say softly. “Mum’ll come around. This can’t be the worst fight you’ve ever had.”
“She’s never kicked me out before,” says my dad. “Not even the time I dropped the only copy of her manuscript in the sea when we went on that yacht trip. You don’t understand. That woman is the only thing I have in the world.”
“You still have me,” I say, finding it hard to keep the bite out of my voice.
He looks up at me and puts one of his hands on my shoulder. “Edgar, the most exciting day of my life was the day your mother told me we were going to have you. Well that and that time we opened for Marilyn Manson, but you’ve moved out of home now. You have your own life.”
“And I’m a giant disappointment to you,” I say. “You and mum wanted me to be like you and instead I’m like me.”
My father sighs. “Ed, we never wanted you to be like anything except like yourself. I’d be a liar if I said the idea of going on a father and son tour, playing my greatest hits wouldn’t be insanely cool… but your mum and I are who we are and you’re who you are… and we’re a family, no matter how fucked up we are.”
“I don’t think you’re fucked up,” I say.
My dad laughs, “You were always so ashamed of us at your school events.”
I laugh too. “Well, have you noticed how loud mum is. She always tried to take over every event. Do you remember when she tried to convince the head teacher that the summer ball should have a “night of the living dead” theme?”

At the mention of my mother, my dad’s eyes tear up again.
“I miss her so much,” he says. “She’s right though you know. What I did was unforgivable and if I had known I was going to have such an awesome son, I wouldn’t have traded you for anything in the world.”
“So you don’t wish I was a rock ‘n roll son?”
“I always wished you would hold back less. Sometimes you’re so distant but then since this dragon thing happened… you seem more… more bold. I think you’ve always had it in you but you’ve been so scared to turn into the caricatures that you think your mother and I are, that you’ve hidden every bit of fire you had in you. I know I’m not perfect,” he says, with a shrug. “I know I don’t always make the right decisions and if it wasn’t for your mother, I’d probably be dead by now but the important this is that I love you and I love your mother. More than anything.”

My father and I have never spoken like this. We’ve sat for twenty-three years quietly misunderstanding each other and it’s taken a dragon to close the distance between us.

“We’ll get her back,” I tell my dad. “No matter what we have to do tomorrow, we will get back the women we love.”
“And then we’ll write a song about it!” says my dad waving his hand over his head. “And in the middle bit there’ll be this epic guitar solo and we can get a massive model of a dragon onstage behind me breathing fire over the audience. Maybe we should have a drink… just a little one to help us sleep.”
Some things change and some things are always the same.