(Much sooner than he would think: for just a few days after the ball, his father the king was killed in one of the many ridiculous wars he was always undertaking.)
My dreams were filled with more adventurous, rebellious men, who witnessed the corruption around them and sought their own means of making their way in life.
And that day in the garden, who should appear before me but the most startling handsome highwayman I had ever seen.
Well, don't they say you're attracted to those who look a little bit like you?
*
At the time, as I recall it, I had been amazed by the sense of familiarity I detected within this man’s looks and casually confident demeanour.
The things he said, too: he could have been reading my mind, in the way he seemed to know of everything I was interested in; in the way he could hardly do anything wrong; in the way he was at once both attentive and yet also coolly aloof, uncaring of any offence we might take at his rudely imperious behaviour.
He had ever so politely bowed to us, with a flourishing lowering of his hat, as he abruptly appeared on the walkway before my sister and me.
My sister, naturally, was startled.
She wanted to cry for help.
I stopped her, telling her not to be so childish; the guards wouldn't have allowed in anyone capable of causing us harm.
I was intrigued by this man who had dared to present himself before us without any of the usual, boring means of introduction.
I even gave my sister the knowing glance we had developed between us that meant we wished to be left alone with a man who had taken our interest.
Now I realised, of course, that that highwayman had been me.
No wonder I knew exactly the things to say to keep me entranced.
*
Naturally, both Apsara and I had realised that what I was doing was strangely distasteful; making love to myself, as it were.
Yet what choice did we have?
We needed to get my sister alone so that Apsara could approach her, offering her the Glass Slipper, and the chance to charm the prince into marriage.
All this was taking place behind another row of hedges.
It wasn’t going well, for some reason.
I heard my sister’s voice rising in fury.
It was distracting, even to someone being charmed by a handsome, witty highwayman.
‘I’m sorry; I must go see whatever is upsetting my sister,’ I declared irately, angered that I’d been interrupted.
And then I – that is, the me who was still a lady – apologetically slipped away, rushing off to find my sister.
And then I – that is, the me who was now a highwayman – took the opportunity to dash off in the other direction, and find out what was happening to Apsara.
I peered around one of the long rows of high hedges, just in time to see Apsara rushing towards me.
She wasn't looking my way, however.
She was looking back, and up into the air.
She no longer held the slipper.
But that was because it was sailing though the air, high above her.
And if Apsara didn't manage to catch it, it might well smash when it struck the ground.
*
Chapter 38
The Glass Slipper has never looked more glorious.
As it twirls through the air, it catches the sunlight and, in innumerable ways reflects and refracts it, throwing out all manner of sparkling tones.
It iridescently flickers like so many stars and suns, all caught up in one particular place.
The shimmering light plays across Apsara. Reds, greens, yellows, blues, purples.
And as the light swims across and around her, she begins to grow.
No; to age.
Her long blouse is now like a short skirt upon her.
Her childlike limbs have gained the grace of a beautiful teenager.
She only stops growing older as, at last, and thankfully, she firmly catches the slipper in her cupped hands.
Sensing that I’m close, she turns to me with a relieved smile.
The gorgeous smile of an incredibly beautiful girl. For the slipper has worked its magic, enhancing her beauty as it spun in the air, as it threw its enchanted light about her.
Her hair alone is worthy of a king’s ransom, spilling about her as if still illuminated by the slipper’s glow.
She frowns when she sees that I’m gaping at her.
She glances down at herself, at the now too short blouse, at her elegantly long legs.
She looks back up at me, wide eyed.
‘Oh…dear!’ she says.
*
Chapter 39
‘Er, but apart from that, what else went wrong?’
I’ve got to ask her, haven’t I?
Besides, she doesn’t appear that bothered that she’s suddenly gained a couple of extra years.
I mean, don’t all young girls wish they were that little bit older, that bit more sophisticated?
So, looking at it on that level, Apsara’s got to be the luckiest girl in the world, hasn’t she?
Apsara gives me an irritated frown.
‘Well, I suppose I should have known your sister might be, er…shall we say, opinionated?’
‘Sure, if you want to be polite about it. What did you say that was wrong?’
‘Well, what did I say that was right? Just about nothing, really.’
‘Yeah, that's sounds like my sister, sure enough.’
‘I mean, just what are you supposed to say to her to get her to listen to you?’
I nod; yeah, I know the feeling.
‘I said to her, as we’d arranged,’ Apsara continues, ‘that the slipper was magic, that she couldn’t fail, wearing this, to land herself the most desirable man in the land.’
‘Well, I didn’t think we’d quite agreed on that sort of language…’ I point out.
‘I might well have asked her if she’d ever thought of changing her face! “Are you implying I need help?” she’d spat back at me. “Do you think that’s the only way I can get myself a husband? Through trickery, magic?” I wish I’d never opened my mouth!’
I winced.
Yeah, that’s my sister, no doubt about it. I should have told Apsara to be careful with the words she used; basically, to use as few as possible.
You could tell my sister she’s the most beautiful girl,you’d ever seen, and she’d find some means of taking it the wrong way. Like, she’d want to know just how many girls you had seen.
‘But the slipper,’ I persist, ‘why didn’t you show her the slipper?’
‘I did! That’s when she really lost it! She’d picked it up, and was quite entranced by it at first, admiring its colours, its daintiness; so all I said was, don't worry, it will grow to take your feet!’
I wince again.
I can guess what happened next.
‘“Are you saying I have big feet?” she’d shrieked – and then she threw the slipper at me!’
‘Apsara, there’s no way my sister could throw the slipper so high into the air!’
‘Oh, she didn’t; I ducked. The slipper struck the hedge – and then it must have hit a springing branch or something, because the next thing I know, it’s flying out of there high up into the air.’
My sister had run off. Closely followed by me, in my original, lady-like form.
So, there goes that plan.
If my sister had told me why she was so upset, rather than insisting on just being furious without telling me why, I might have known this scheme wasn’t going to work.
Coming around from my despondent pondering, I glance Apsara’s way.
In that blouse, that’s now too short for her, she looks like some impoverished maid forced to wear clothes she long ago grew out of.
Like, in fact – a young, beautiful kitchen maid, in need of a little magical help if she wants to go to the ball.
*
Chapter 40
‘Oh no, no, no!?
?? Apsara says when I suggest that, at last, we’ve found our Cinderella. ‘I’m too young, we’d agreed on that, remember?’
‘Have you taken a proper look at yourself?’ I say. ‘You don't look twelve!’
‘Oh, and of course, that isn't in any way a bit of a dodgy thing to say!’ she scoffs.
I shrug.
‘So, you’re okay, right, about all these people slaving away in the fields? Or those people hanging from gibbets–’
‘Okay, okay; I get your point, blackmailer!’ She abruptly frowns, considering what she’s committing herself to. ‘But I don’t want to marry the prince!’
‘You don’t have to marry him; you’ve just got to make sure our Fairy Godmother doesn’t marry him!’
‘And if something goes wrong? If things don’t work out as they do in the story, and instead he starts immediately introducing me to his parents as the woman of his dreams?’
‘Oh come on! People have married worse!’
‘Not at twelve! At least, they’re not supposed to; not these days!’
‘Twelve going on eighteen, Apsara!’
She glares at me.
She stamps her foot, like a disgruntled twelve-year -old.
*
‘Young girls, they just grow up so quickly these days, don’t they?’
Sure, I was sorely tempted to say it when Apsara had stood before me, her glass shoes granting her extra height and elegance, her ball gown sparkling like it’s made from material drawn down from the most gloriously sun-kissed blue sky.
But I had the good sense to keep my mouth shut.
I’m tight lipped now, too, but this time through anxiety.
It’s drawing closer and closer to twelve, and yet there’s still no sign of her.
Worse still, an amazingly glamorous carriage is unhurriedly making its way towards the sweeping steps leading up toward the palace’s main doors; the very steps I’m expecting Cinderella to come rushing down any time now.
Damn!
The carriage’s occupant, I reckon, can only be the Fairy Godmother or whatever you want to call her.
The coach glistens in the flaring light from the countless candles and blazing braziers illuminating the palace. It’s a coach of nothing but glass, no doubt: we’re back in a time when the Fairy Godmother still has her own Glass Slipper, after all.
That’s what Cinderella’s coach was chiefly constructed off, even though we’d started off with nothing more than a pumpkin – hey, we thought we should stick to that part of the story at least, right? – and I wouldn’t have believed it was possible if I hadn’t seen it for myself. Cinderella had made quite an entrance in that, I can tell you.
Thankfully, no one’s clamouring to see the Fairy Godmother’s arrival, even though it’s every bit as spectacular as Cinderella’s entrance.
That’s what comes of arriving late. Of turning up once the prince’s heart has already been stolen.
As the clock strikes its first beat of twelve, the Fairy Godmother alights from her carriage, her dress all the colours of the star-garbed night sky.
Woo, she looks amazing; yeah, I’ve got to give her that. In the interests of fairness, at least.
No wonder the prince had fallen for her.
The difference this time, of course, is Cinderella.
But just where is Cinderella?
If the Fairy Godmother sees her – well, what will she do?
The clock is already on its sixth beat.
Get out of there, Cinderella!
*
Chapter 41
As the clock strikes the twelfth beat, the Fairy Godmother enters the palace through its huge, double doors.
She’s timed her entrance perfectly, obviously.
Unlike Apsara, who must be as deaf as a post if she hasn’t heard the booming of the clock’s striking!
Maybe she’s just enjoying herself too much in there!
Maybe she’s just lost all sense of time!
I realise I’ve got to get in closer towards the palace, to make sure she’s all right.
Fortunately, the light-absorbing darkness of my clothes allows me to move virtually unseen across the rolling lawns leading up to the palace’s entrance. I pass alongside the rows of spectacular carriages, every one of which is being attended to by whichever servant has been chosen to stay behind with the horses while everyone else is being relatively regally entertained by the domestic staff.
The only team of attendants opting to stay by their carriage, of course, had been Cinderella’s. Now there’s a space in the rows where her carriage had been.
In its place, there’s a pumpkin being hungrily eaten by white mice.
Then – does that mean Apsara got away in time?
Or does it mean she didn’t; and the Fairy Godmother’s just turned her into a frog or something?
‘What’re you doing here?’ a voice hisses angrily at me from out of the darkness.
I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the terrible stench of horse dirt, a smell even more noisome than the one wafting up from my own heavily soiled boots.
I whirl around on my heels.
Apsara is glowering at me, her hair a tangled mess entwined with broken twigs, her blouse and bared legs muddied. Her shoes, like mine, are covered in the most awful smelling mess.
If the prince had seen her like this, well…
‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you!’ she snaps.
‘Looking for me?’ I answer, incredulous. ‘I came looking for you! What happened?’
‘I went down the wrong steps, didn’t I?’ she groans miserably. ‘Have you any idea just how many flights of steps there are in a building that size? And these steps led out into the blooming woods, didn't they?’
She’s disgruntled, I can see. I can see, also, that’s she covered in cobwebs, as well as mud and twigs.
I think I’d better change the subject a little.
‘The, er, slipper…’ I say hesitantly. ‘Did you remember to leave it behind?’
‘Oh, I forgot!’ she exclaims, only to sternly add, ‘I just rushed back home to put on this tight old blouse, obviously!’
‘Good, good,’ I say gleefully, ‘now we just hang around until the prince gets tired of searching for you, pinch the slipper back; then try and figure out how we use it to get back to our own time!’
‘Wonderful, just wonderful,’ Apsara says miserably, glancing in dismay at her cobweb entangled hand as she vainly tries to free a number of twigs from her hair.
*
‘Who’s there?’
A guard has seen us as we’ve made our way across the more open areas of rolling lawns fronting the palace.
My clothes are dark, but Apsara’s, of course, are still white enough to reflect the odd flickers of light coming from the looming windows.
‘Couldn’t you have rolled around in a bit more mud?’ I growl at Apsara as we break into a run.
The yell that had erupted out of the darkness far behind us is joined by a crack, a noise rather like the one of the thicker branches of a tree splitting. Abruptly, I receive what feels like a sharp, hard blow along the side of my head that just about knocks me to the ground in its suddenness and violence, rather as if some invisible assailant as struck out at me with a heavy sword.
My hat briefly sails up into the air until I catch it. With my other hand, I gently touch the side of my head, wondering what could have happened to me.
It’s wet, wet with blood. I can also feel a gaping wound, a long, painful furrow running along the side of my head.
It reminds me of the sort of deep wounds I’ve seen crossbow bolts inflict after a glancing blow.
Blows that have caused enough damage to be a mortal wound. They become badly infected see, and somehow the poisons seep through into the brain; it’s not a nice way to go.
Thankfully, I’ve had and recovered from far worse. So despite the agony every jarring fall of a foot is causing me, I keep running, reassuring Apsara that I’m fine, tha
t we’re not far now from where I’ve left Bess and the hounds.
What was that thing that hit me?
If I didn’t know better, I’d have to swear that someone’s actually gone and invented that device I’d said would be an improvement on the crossbow.
In the particularly thick darkness of the copse they’re hidden away in, Bess and the dogs are just about invisible.
I fall against Bess with relief; I’m so exhausted and suffering so much pain that I couldn’t have run much farther. Apsara has to help me up into my saddle. If she had still been twelve years old, rather than a taller and fitter teenager, she wouldn’t have managed it.
Apsara gets up on to Bess, sitting behind me, but holding the reins. With an abrupt tightening of her knees into Bess’s flanks, she urges her into a surging gallop; we need to get away from here as fast as we can. The hounds obediently follow on alongside, flowing through the undergrowth as if it isn’t really there.
‘That wound,’ Apsara cries out firmly even as we continue to spur our horses into a furious pace. ‘I saw it when helping you up; it’s serious.’
‘I’ve recovered from worse!’ I yell back, immediately wishing I hadn’t; moving my jaw is only adding to the sharp stabs of pain.
I sense Apsara glancing down at the relatively minor scratches she’d received to her arms as she’d made her way through the wood. They’re still bleeding.
‘I…I don’t think it’s going to heal this time,’ she yells back.
I’m puzzled.
It’s agony just trying to think.
‘I’ve always healed from these things; ever since my toe was cut off by the slipper.’
I try not to shout this time, hoping to lessen the pain a little.
It doesn’t work.
‘The sliver of the slipper; it must protect me, remember?’ I continue when, glancing back, I see her anxious expression.
‘We saw the slipper; the piece wasn't missing!’ she says worriedly.
‘But…but isn’t that…you know, all this time thing? It’s not possible that I’ve lost it – is it?’
She looks at me.
This time, it’s a fearful expression, one that somehow says, ‘Yes, I think it is possible.’
‘We’ve changed things, remember?’ she says sullenly. ‘I…I don’t think you’re going to lose your toe this time…’