Chapter 7. Once Upon a Time
‘Wow.’ Ryan was impressed. ‘I can never get Tracey to do anything I want.’
‘It’s easy,’ said Andy loftily. ‘Just tell me what to write and leave it to me.’
The boys decided that to have super powers was what they really wanted and Andy promised to get his sister to do it the next day. His plans were frustrated when he overslept and in the subsequent rush to get to school he didn’t have time.
After school Ryan went to Andy’s house. They fortified themselves with a sandwich and an apple.
‘Gherkin?’ offered Andy.
Ryan shuddered.
‘I don’t think I will ever eat a gherkin again. I found another jar in the cupboard that Mum must have bought at the same time.’
‘Are they alive still?’ asked Andy, with interest.
‘Only just. They sort of move feebly when I poke a fork at them.’
‘Cool.’
‘No, it’s not. It makes me feel distinctly queasy,’ said Ryan crossly. ‘Especially when Mum puts them on my sandwiches.’
Andy was still laughing as he led the way to his bedroom. Ryan was staggered at how messy the room was.
‘Did you tidy this specially,’ he asked, ‘or is it always like this?’
Andy gave him a sheepish look.
‘I know it’s a mess. Mum always reckons my bedroom is like a war zone. She says I should make her a map so she can find her way round it.’
‘My Mum tidies my room,’ admitted Ryan. ‘She’s a real clean freak.’
‘Oh, my Mum’s not all that tidy herself,’ said Andy. ‘But wait until you see my sister’s room. She is super tidy.’
Ryan followed Andy as he marched into Joanne’s bedroom.
‘This is Ryan,’ began Andy.
‘Go away,’ said Joanne. ‘I’m busy.’
‘She sounds just like Tracey,’ remarked Ryan.
Andy rolled his eyes at him.
‘Joanne,’ he asked sweetly. ‘Will you do something for me?’
Joanne was reading her favourite book about a princess.
‘No,’ she said bluntly.
‘Please, Joanne. It’s easy.’
‘You do it then,’ said Joanne. ‘Go away or I’ll tell Mum you’re hitting me.’
‘I will hit you if you don’t help me,’ threatened Andy.
Joanne was drawing in her breath to scream when Ryan intervened.
‘It’s a game, Joanne. We’re playing at being space creatures. We don’t know how to write and we need you to write something for us.’
Joanne giggled. ‘Okay,’ she said.
‘Space creatures!’ whispered Andy. ‘Couldn’t you think of something better than that? Only little kids play that game.’
‘Shh,’ said Ryan sternly. ‘Give her the pen.’
‘Now, Joanne,’ he went on. ‘We need you to write this down. I’ve written it for you on this piece of paper already.’
‘Then why do you need me to do it again?’ asked Joanne suspiciously.
‘We need one piece of paper each,’ said Ryan with sudden inspiration. ‘It’s to show the earthlings what we can do.’
‘Okay, you go and wait in Andy’s bedroom and I’ll do it.’
‘Do it now,’ said Andy, ‘while we watch.’
‘No,’ said Joanne. ‘I need peace to concentrate. Go away and I’ll bring it to you.’
‘Honestly,’ said Andy, ‘you sound more like our mother every day. All right we’re going,’ he said hastily, as Joanne stuck her lip out mutinously.
The boys flopped morosely onto Andy’s bed, after clearing off three socks, a sneaker, a half read book, and pieces of what Andy assured Ryan was a model plane that was going to look superb when it was finally completed.
‘She’s taking ages,’ said Ryan after a few minutes.
‘She writes slowly,’ said Andy gloomily. ‘It’s always perfectly neat but she won’t do it fast. We’ll give her another couple of minutes then we’ll check.
Another minute went by, then there was a tap on the door. Andy rushed over to open it. Joanne stood looking at him with large eyes.
‘Have you done it?’ asked Andy eagerly.
Joanne gulped.
‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘But I’ve done something else. You’d better come and look.’
Ryan peered over Andy’s shoulder as he flung open Joanne’s bedroom door. There, standing in the middle of the room, was a young lady. Long flaxen hair hung down to her hips, held back from her face by a jeweled band. She wore a purple velvet gown gathered in at a tiny waist with a golden girdle. Golden embroidered slippers peeped from the hem of the gown. This exquisite vision of loveliness raised large, dark lashed, blue eyes to Andy’s face and in a sweet soft voice uttered,
‘My Prince. You have come at last.’
Andy recoiled.
‘Go in,’ hissed Ryan, shoving him in the back. The three children trooped into the room and Ryan carefully shut the door behind them.
‘Who are you?’ croaked Andy.
‘Oh, my Prince, you have rescued me.’
The young lady sank to her knees and taking Andy’s hand she pressed a kiss on it. ‘I am yours to command,’ she murmured.
Ryan gave a shout of laughter while Joanne blushed guilty. Andy glared at Ryan then pulled the maiden to her feet.
‘Who are you?’ he insisted.
‘I am the Princess Floribunda. I have been imprisoned in my tower by a powerful spell cast by a wicked witch. The spell could only be broken by a Prince, who would set me free with a kiss.’
She closed her eyes and raised her face expectantly to Andy.
Ryan was by this time laughing so hard that he was having trouble standing up.
‘She’s out of my Princess book,’ whispered Joanne. ‘I drew round the picture, the one where she was looking through the window, then she sort of stepped through and here she is. She kept asking where her prince was so I fetched you.’
‘Oh help.’
Andy ran his fingers wildly through his hair. Floribunda's blue eyes opened and she gazed at him in reproach.
‘Aren’t you going to kiss me?’ she asked and a large crystal tear welled from her eye to roll slowly down her peach tinged cheeks.
‘Yeah, aren’t you going to kiss her? Oh Prince’, sniggered Ryan.
Andy gave him a filthy look, turned beet red, and hastily brushed a kiss on Floribunda's rosebud mouth.
‘There. The spell's broken. Now you can go off and do whatever you want to,’ he said awkwardly.
But I only want to be by your side,’ replied Floribunda softly. ‘We must make plans for our wedding day.’
‘Wedding?’ Andy was aghast. This was like some sort of horrible nightmare. He pinched himself hard. No, he was awake. ‘I can’t marry you. I’m too young,’ he said firmly.
Floribunda began to cry again.
‘But my hand is to be given in marriage to whoever breaks the spell,’ she sobbed.
‘Well, it’s certainly not going to be me,’ said Andy heartlessly, as Ryan sprawled on the floor completely helpless with laughter. ‘How do we put her back in the stupid book?’ he whispered to Joanne.
‘It’s not stupid,’ said Joanne indignantly. ‘It’s a good book.’
‘ What do you mean go back? I will never go back in that tower,’ cried Floribunda. ‘I would sooner my life was ended. Oh, oh, oh!’
She began to cry with loud heartbroken sobs. Joanne gave her a tissue and started to pat her back. Andy marched over to Ryan.
‘What can I do?’ he demanded fiercely.
‘Well, you could marry her, of course,’ suggested Ryan kindly. ‘It might be a bit difficult to explain to your parents though.’
‘For Pete’s sake! How do we get rid of her? The last thing we need is a princess hanging around.’
Suddenly to their horror the door opened
‘What on earth is all the noise about?’ asked Andy’s mother. ‘Who is
this, and what is the matter?’
‘We’re rehearsing a play, Mrs Shaw,’ said Ryan in sudden inspiration. ‘This is Flora. She’s in our class at school. She’s being a princess,’ he added desperately.
‘Well I can see that,’ said Mrs Shaw doubtfully. ‘Why is she crying?’
‘No, no, she’s acting. She’s really good at it. We have to go and meet the rest of the cast down at the park,’ improvised Andy wildly. ‘Follow me, oh Princess, I mean come on Flora.’ Grabbing Floribunda by one hand he led the way out of the bedroom. Joanne followed behind and Ryan had enough presence of mind to pick up the pen and the Princess book before he ran after the others.
The walk to the park was short but memorable as everyone stared at Floribunda in her glorious gown as she glided down the footpath waving graciously at passersby, beaming with delight.
‘She thinks she’s going to the wedding,’ Joanne explained to Ryan.
‘Why would she think that?’
‘I told her. Well, I thought it would keep her quiet,’ she added defensively.
Floribunda showed a distressing tendency to ask awkward questions.
‘Where are the peasants? Why are they not strewing rose petals in my path,’ she inquired imperiously.
‘It’s not rose season,’ mumbled Andy, growing more harassed.
‘What are those strange contraptions?’
‘They are cars. People ride in them. I mean peasants ride in them, not princesses,’ added Ryan hastily, in case Floribunda demanded to be driven.
‘Why are the peasants not cheering? And where is my royal carriage? I am not accustomed to walking. Why don’t you arrange a litter for me? I wish to be carried.’
‘It’s the modern way,’ Ryan assured her. ‘Today, princesses walk like everyone else. You don’t want people to think you’re old fashioned do you?’
‘Well, no…’ Floribunda was doubtful. ‘But I should have footmen in livery and handmaidens. Or is it modern to no longer have slaves?’
Fortunately for Ryan and Andy they arrived at the park where Floribunda was distracted by the fountain.
‘Oh look. Isn’t it pretty,’ she exclaimed. ‘They have constructed this especially for me on my wedding day.’
Leaving her to gaze in delight at the sunlight rainbow of spray, the children had a hasty conference.
‘The only thing to do is to draw round the picture again,’ said Andy. ‘That way she’ll go into it.’
‘But that’s really unkind,’ said Joanne. ‘She must be so bored in that awful tower. How about if I draw round another picture instead and she can go into that.’
A Present From Aunt Agatha Page 7
