An Emoji story on love, names, fish and fortunes

This emoji story was written for my daughter, and in it there are a multitude of film and song references to all the things we love watching together or dancing to round the kitchen to (some obvious and others less so and no I won't tell you - you'll have to work them out for yourself). Oh yes, and because she's into rowing and tarot right now, the odd rowing and tarot reference too.

These are the emojis she sent me: 🌟  🐠  🫒  💘  🔮  🧸

This is a story about two lovely young people, fish, fortunes and naturally,  (sorry, spoilers!) love. But the path to love never runs straight. There it is, and so to get there, we must consider the naming of things and then go in and out of tents, along garden paths, up mountains and then who knows.

The first lovely young person to whom I shall introduce you is Edward. Edward is someone who had grown up feeling that his parents had made him ridiculous. To be fair many of us have this feeling (I’m sorry if this happens to be you) but in Edward’s case, he did have good cause: if your surname is Bear, it is an error to call your child Edward.

It was unclear whether his parents were Winnie the Pooh enthusiasts (as everyone knows, Pooh’s real name was Edward Bear) or whether they simply hadn’t thought the thing through, but the fact is, their unfortunate son had had to go through life having stuffed toys flung at him, both verbally and occasionally, physically. It was all very difficult. Edward (we shall not call him Teddy, even if everybody else does) had responded to this treatment by becoming shy, withdrawn and a great expert in life under the sea.

The second lovely young person to whom I shall introduce you is Star. She had fewer issues with her name. Her parents had called her after an inspirational sofa sales-lady from Nebraska, and Star was happy with that. She was an energetic person who excelled in rowing, needlepoint embroidery and line dancing and was at that stage where she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted out of life, but whatever it was, when she eventually found it, she’d jolly well grab whatever it was by the forelock and totally go for it. (She might even take it line dancing.)

Now, you might make the assumption at this stage in the story that Edward and Star are destined to fall in love. I’m afraid that’s not going to happen, so you can pull that train of thought into a siding at once, and go off for a cup of LNER cardboard tea, if you must. No, Star and Edward were neighbours. Edward regarded Star with a certain amount of nervousness because that is how he regarded everybody, and Star didn’t know of Edward’s existence because he was so shy and withdrawn when he was at home, and when he wasn’t at home, he spent much of his time in a submarine observing marine life. (I have to tell you, the situation is far from ideal from the point of view of your story teller. It’s all very upsetting. Still, I will do my best. And now I guess I’d better nip off to Travis Perkins for a load of bricks to sort out this fourth wall issue.)

It was Thursday afternoon and the fair had just arrived in town. Star was excited about this because she had just had an unproductive discussion with the careers department at university, and reckoned she’d get more out of a visit to Madame Hélène in the Fortune Telling tent. Madame Hélène was a legendary part-time tarot card reader.  (The rest of her time was spent living her best life on an island in Sri Lanka or the Outer Hebrides or somewhere like that, training the local rowing team and looking after their welfare with cups of coffee – far nicer than cardboard LNER tea, unless you like that sort of thing of course. This information may or may not be relevant later, we’ll have to see).

Edward knew nothing about the fair or Madame Hélène because he was at that moment, perhaps predictably, under the sea, gazing through sea-binoculars at a fine specimen of a Shaun the Sheep Slug (you think I’ve made that up but I absolutely haven’t).

‘Welcome,’ said Madame Hélène, in a resonant voice which she had been practising on millicent bystanders ever since watching Cher in Burlesque. She found it to be most appropriate for tarot readings (and actually so did the bystanders).

Star came into the tent, sat down and gazed about her. Both Madame Hélène and the tent were magnificent, draped with patterned silks in fabulous colours. Candles flickered in ornate lantern holders, cushions tumbled about in happy disarray and the cat from Mind in Camden Town, whose name was Louis, had dropped in to lend atmosphere (and eat titbits that Madame Hélène had brought with her, expressly for the purpose, in a titbit-shaped cool box.)

Madame Hélène placed a deck of cards on the table between them and invited Star to shuffle, which Star did, and handed them back. Madame Hélène looked at the deck for a moment, and then at Star, frowned and said to Louis, ‘hmmm. I’m not sure. What do you think?’

‘Pretty obvious ida thought. Bypass the tarot, I’d go straight for the Crystal Ball if I was you. That’s what she’s really after, innit?’

‘Yes,’ said Madame Hélène. ‘I think you might be right.’

‘No “might” about it,’ said Louis. ‘Always am right, me.’ And he curled up on his cushion, buried his nose under his tail and went to sleep, purring Norf Lundun frevver in a pleasing undertone.

Madame Hélène reached under the table and brought out a crystal ball. It was medium sized and swathed in fronds of mysterious mist. Madame H wafted her hands impatiently until eventually the enigmatic vapours dispersed.

‘I do wish you wouldn’t do that,’ she said severely to it. ‘I’ve told you about smoking how many times? It’s really bad for your health!’

The crystal ball shuffled its feet embarrassedly and apologised.

‘That’s all right,’ said Madame Hélène. ‘We’ll talk about it later. You shall have a cup of coffee. Now then, attend. This young lady needs to know where she is going in life and what to do when she gets there.’

The crystal ball was silent for a while and then said in quite a different voice to the one it had used before (this current one was low and melodious and French, because it too understood the importance of the right voice when doing a job of work), ‘Your destiny is helping someone close to you who is sad. The situation is a fishy one, olives are the key.’

‘Well,’ said Madame Hélène briskly, smiling at Star. ‘That makes lots of sense. You’ll be pleased about that, I daresay.’

Star looked completely confused. ‘I don’t think I quite understand…’ she said, a bit nervously, because between you and me, Hélène, the crystal ball and Louis were a bit of an overwhelming combo.

‘Couldn’t really be any clearer, could it?’ said the crystal ball in its original voice. ‘I mean just work it out!’

‘Yes, but it’s not a straightforward ,’ said Star. ‘I can’t just “work it out”. It’s not a “just work it out” sort of thing.’

‘Of course it is,’ said Louis, waking up and fixing her with a Look. ‘Go home and everything will become clear. Miaow to you.’ And he leapt off his cushion and stalked out of the tent.

‘He’s quite right you know,’ said Madame Hélène, also reverting to her normal voice. ‘Just go home and everything will become plain. Now, I’m terribly sorry, but CB and I need to have a little talk about his lifestyle choices, so we’ll say goodbye, and don’t worry. Everything will work itself out because everything always does. The important thing is allowing yourself to enjoy it. Next stroke, in and away!’ And she waved to prove she meant what she said about it being time for Star to leave, and that everything would turn out to be all right.

Star wandered out of the tent feeling even more lost than when she’d left the careers department at the university. She walked home and unlocked the front door. On the doormat was a postcard which turned out to be addressed to the house next door.

The name on the card was Mr Edward Bear, Esq.

Star was entranced. ‘Mr Edward Bear?!’ she exclaimed. ‘Really? How could I possibly not know I live next to a Teddy Bear? I must go and see him at once!’ and she dashed out of the door.

Edward had just returned home from his submarining expedition that afternoon. He always found coming home a bit sad, as what he really wanted was to come back to somewhere where the lights were on and friendly chatter in progress and the option of a cup of tea with someone. He had hung his coat up (sadly), turned on the light and gone to put on the kettle when the doorbell rang. This was something that Literally Never Happened. Trepidatiously, he went to see who it was.

There, on the doorstep, was Star, beaming. Just in case you thought stars didn’t beam, and that beaming is a sun only thing, I must correct you. They do. In this case, toothily. Edward smiled cautiously back. (Star couldn’t help noticing that Edward was a rather beautiful young man.) (No, still no. This is not where these two fall in love. Sorry, but they just don’t.)

‘Um, hello!’ said Edward. In a spirit of HUGE BRAVERY, he added, ‘would you like a cup of tea? I’ve just put the kettle on.’ And then, realising he’d got everything in the wrong order, stammered, ‘I’m Edward. I’m your next door neighbour.’

‘Yes,’ said Star, brightly. ‘I know! And I’m so sorry I didn’t realise until now. And yes, I’d love a cup of tea.’

Edward led her into the kitchen and Star was struck by many things.  The third thing she was struck by (I shall leave you to work out thing one and thing two – and no, am not referring to Dr Seuss. At least I don’t think I am) was that Madame Hélène and the crystal ball and Louis had all been telling the truth. Here was someone who was unhappy. You could tell – the kitchen was painted a dispiriting shade of mauve, the table and chairs were grey Formica, and the window sill was slathered in dead geraniums – sorry, gerania – and literally no one could be happy surrounded by any of that, tbh.

Star noticed that on the wall were pictures, torn from magazines, featuring shoals of fish - and indeed many other aquatic life forms. There was one beautiful thing in the room, and that was a painting, a huge oil, depicting an olive grove, in what looked like early morning light. The sun was filtering through the leaves and casting dappled shadows on the long, wild-flower filled grass beneath. In the distance was a yellow cottage, with pretty green shutters, and beyond that, the sea. Star was intrigued. ‘Where’s that?’ she asked.

Edward fished the teabags out of the mugs and threw them into the sink with a sad and unlovely splatch. ‘That?’ he said. ‘That is in Greece. It’s on an island, up in the hills. It’s my grandmother’s and it’s the most beautiful place in the world. I’d live there you know. It’s just that…’ He trailed off gloomily, and sloshed milk into the tea.

Star thought about Madame Hélène, the crystal ball, and Louis, and knew what she had to do. She realised that an opportunity had arisen and must needs be grabbed by the forelock. (See para no. 4, but I just want to stipulate, there is no room for line dancing here. Yet).

‘Edward,’ she said. ‘Do you have any holiday owing?’

‘Oh, lots and lots,’ said Edward.

‘Excellent,’ said his redoubtable next door neighbour. ‘We are going to Greece.’ And immediately (because there is no time like the present) they found themselves at the airport. Edward, later, felt the whole journey had happened in a dreamlike whirl. When he properly came to himself, he was standing with Star at the top of a mountain, on an island, wearing a magnificently embroidered hat, depicting fish and the motto, ‘Where’s Edward?’ needlepointed by Star on the flight. Edward took the hat off and studied it and while he studied it he was struck by several things. He smiled, put the hat back on and looked out over the olive groves beneath them at a sparkling sea.

‘Star,’ he said.

‘Yes, Edward?’ said Star.

‘This is wonderful!’

‘I know,’ said Star.

‘Now you’re going to think I’m crazy,’ said Edward, looking delighted (and beautiful, beneath his embroidered hat), ‘but you should just listen to what I’m going to say, and then don’t dismiss it out of hand, but here’s the thing. I think we should live here, and grow olives and stare into the sea and live our best life here!’

And Star leant on her oars (yes, I know they are up a mountain, but these are metaphorical oars) and said, ‘Edward, you are right. And yes let’s!’ And then she leant over and kissed him.

Because you know what?

 Ha! I LIED! Because quite honestly, what narrator worth their salt is reliable? I mean that would just be dull, wouldn’t it? In fact I have to confess,  I never got to Travis Perkins, I never built up that fourth wall and you know what? I’m delighted about it! Because now, here we all are, on the most gorgeous Greek island, the most beautiful life-affirming kiss has just taken place and, yes friends, chords of music have struck up. It’s line dancing and jumping in the sea time! 

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