Flames licked at him, daring him to come closer, try harder, as though it were some delicious, deadly dance he was caught in. The hot metal seared his hands and pain lanced up his arms as he struggled with the car door. It would not open. No matter how hard he tried it remained jammed fast shut. His vision turned through red and grey to black, but the pain remained, biting at his mind. He wrenched himself upright.

The stiff, white, sterility of the ward was softened by the morning sun shining through the open curtains which twitched gently every now and then in the fitful morning breeze. He looked with bewildered surprise at his hands, swathed in bandages and strapped firmly to either side of the bed. The pain remained, gnawing like some small animal, tearing slowly at the edges of his consciousness. A shadow loomed above him and the quick, sharp, sting of a needle halted the fading light. The room slowly brightened back into view.

"They had to tie your hands down, you were having bad dreams or something and they were scared you were going to do damage to yourself. My name's Graham by the way, good to see you awake!"

The voice floated into his awareness through the waves of increasing light which eased in intensity as they became brighter.

"The girl you pulled out of that car came by this morning after she was discharged to say hello but you were out to it. Reckons she will write as she had to get back to Wellington today, but you can never tell with these young ones. Forget you soon as look at you. What do you reckon about this drought? If we don't get some rain soon I am going to have to shift stock to keep what grass I do have left. I reckon it's that El Nimmo thing that is causin' this freak weather. Are you a stock man? Nothing worse than an uncertain supply of feed and a damn waste! That girl was O.K. They just kept her in overnight for observation, bit of a surprise considering the state of the health system, this government will be the ruin of the country. Who'd be a farmer nowdays, the guts is dropped out of it! They'll probably send her a bill for the bed!"

"No," he thought, "I am not a stock man, nor even Prince Hamlet."

Somehow that did not sound quite as he had intended, but try as he may, he could not bring himself to focus on what had happened. Was it only last night? How long had he been here? Again fell the shadow.

"We shall leave the dressings until you have burn treatment this afternoon. Fortunately for you that fireman got enough water onto those hands to draw the heat out quickly so I am hopeful that you will come out of this with virtually no scars."

The flames leapt before his eyes, taunting. He forced himself to smile at the doctor.

The treatment that afternoon began painfully but to his surprise the solution did ease the pain, and the sun even shone a little brighter. Afterwards he was allowed to walk for a while before tea. It was the noise that attracted him at first. He went through the open door and entered Færyland. All around were mobiles which filled the air with movement and colour, and bright cheerful pictures lit up the walls; it was the children's ward.

"Come in and say hello to the children" smiled the nurse, "You wouldn't think so but we're trying to get them to settle for the night."

He smiled softly. They seemed to be everywhere. " Need a hand?" he offered tentatively.

"How's your story telling?" queried a dishevelled nurse with a wriggly child under each arm.

Before he could answer, a large open book was placed on his forearms and a chair produced, as if by magic. He sat and started to read. "Once upon a time," he began to the noisy but watchful room, "There was a Princess whose beauty was fabled throughout the land."

"This is no soppy love story is it?" demanded the owner of a pair of piercing blue eyes which glared from under an almost artistically unbrushed mop of brown hair.

"There's a dragon!"

"Kay, but leave out the kissy bits!" A level of quiet crept upon them as he reached the end of the second page,

He glanced up. "I need someone to turn the page for me?"

From beyond the main group, which had steadily moved closer as the story developed, a lone figure regarded him with lovely, almond shaped brown eyes. He smiled at her, keeping his reaction to the deformed upper lip under close control. She neither smiled back nor moved. His attention was drawn back to the book by a small body which pressed against him and with delicate precision a little hand reached out and turned the page. He smiled down into a face which could really have done with a tooth or two more.

"They call me Tina cos I'm little," he was gravely informed.

Together they moved engrossed through the lands of Færy. He had not remembered that stories could be so enchanting and it was with a sense of regret and a twinge of hunger that he helped the nurses settle their charges for the night. He had missed his tea!

On his way from treatment next morning he found himself drawn back to the children's ward. There was great excitement by the main window which opened into a garden. He joined the group and looked out, the garden was ablaze with daffodils.

"Every one has a flower on it," he was informed with awe.

"Naa, there is one in the front that has no flower, that's right init?" Blue eyes turned to him for confirmation.

"I think that one is a black daffodil," he offered.

There was total silence. He felt the expectation almost as a pressure wave pushing against him. He glanced up. At the back of the group interest stirred in the almond shaped eyes, but she said nothing.

"There's no such thing as a black daff!" The unruly mop of hair turned blue eyes once more to the garden to make sure. "A black daff would be worth zillions!"

"Færies could have lots of black daffodils," lisped Tina, "Couldn't they?" The clear gaze regarded him, desperate for his support. He sat on the edge of a bed, "A black daffodil could belong to færies," he raised his hand to stem the flow he could see rising in the boy,

"And it would be priceless beyond all money. Just think, a black velvety flower with a gold and white trumpet centre, it would be really beautiful."

"Knew it would be worth a lot, that's cause it would be so rare, wouldn't it, there wouldn't be many of them around."

"Yes," he said softly, looking to the back of the group, "Very rare indeed, something precious that all of us would love."

"You are progressing well," remarked the doctor, "You may go home after tea tomorrow. I would like you to stay until then so I can check progress following the afternoon treatment. I've heard about your good work with the children. The little one is scheduled for an operation tomorrow afternoon and we are very hopeful that she will be as good as new. It looks bad but it is fairly straightforward to fix with modern surgery techniques."

Next morning as he entered the children's ward, for what had become an eagerly awaited event for both him and the children, he had to quickly protect his healing hands from a small blur which leapt into his arms and snuggled into his shoulder.

"Can I be your friend too?"

He put her down gently and whispered, "I thought you were my friend?"

The almond eyes brightened. "I don't have any other friends here, will you be here after lunch? I am going away for a while," she paused, "Will it hurt?"

He smiled and opened his arms. "No, you will be asleep. It might be a tiny bit sore tomorrow, but then everything will be fine, and you have lots of friends here, lots and lots."

Slowly the trembles subsided, he put her down, and the others made room for her in the centre of the group. He quickly turned his head and made a pretence at a long careful consideration before selecting a book. The realization came upon him suddenly, they knew! As well as their own pain, their own sufferings, they felt for her and took her into the collective comfort of the group, easing her feelings of loneliness, and driving back the shadows from her mind. As he was reading he glanced out of the window. The daffodils had gone. The heat had been too great for them over the week. He felt a sense of loss at their passing.

"Come in next week to for a check, but I don't think you will have any trouble with those hands."

It was his last chance. "How did the little one's operation go?"

"Little one? Oh, the girl with the lip, smoothly, very smoothly, no problems there. Now it would be helpful if you could keep working with that squash ball to strengthen the muscles and help stop the skin from tightening, you can go home tonight."

Graham was asleep when he finished packing his bag. He left a note propped up against the jug of water on the bedside cabinet. The lights in the children's ward were dimmed. He left his bag at the door and walked to the bed closest to the night nurses' station The soft glow of the night light was brighter in the cubical. The big, brown, almond shaped eyes were closed and lightly fastened dressings covered the lower portion of her face. He stood looking down at her. The dressings moved slightly as her face briefly twisted in a little grimace of returning feeling, the flames flickered once, then died out, and in their place in his mind's eye he saw a pair of perfect bow shaped lips lift a smile to shining eyes."

It was quite dark outside. As he walked down the front steps of the hospital towards the taxi ranks, it started to rain.