Charm

by Sarah Pinborough

  She ushered him inside and closed the door as he pulled another chair close to the stove and sat down. ‘This winter’s a bastard.’ He shivered.

  ‘You didn’t need to bring me anything,’ Cinderella rummaged in the cupboards, put some bread and cheese on a plate and poured him a glass of her father’s table wine. ‘You’re too kind to me.’

  ‘It’s not my coal, princess. Just like the half a ham I just left at Granny Parker’s wasn’t my ham, so don’t worry.’ He winked at her. ‘But I like bringing you things best.’

  Cinderella blushed and sat down, happy to give him a moment or two of silence while he ate. Sometimes it felt like Buttons was her only real friend in the world, and she didn’t even know his real name. She called him Buttons because he’d brought her two fine pearl buttons for her torn dress when she’d first met him and then the nickname stuck. He probably had grateful nicknames in houses all over the city. The winter made times hard, but Buttons made them better.

  He couldn’t be more than twenty or so, she thought. Thin and wiry with a mop of black hair and sharp eyes that were always up to mischief. But what a heart he had. He had a crush on her, she knew, but she never encouraged it, no matter how extraordinary he was. She wanted more from her life. She wanted what Ivy had, but with a tall, handsome man. She longed for it so much she ached from it.

  ‘I hope you’re careful,’ she said. ‘If you get caught, well . . .’ She didn’t need to finish the sentence. They both knew what the consequences would be.

  Buttons was a thief. He was also an errand boy at the castle and spent much of his time delivering messages to the great houses or doing chores in the castle itself. The latter fed into the former and Buttons was an expert at taking small but valuable items that no one would notice were gone and they would either be sold and the money given away, or he’d pass them on directly.

  ‘I steal from the rich and give to the poor,’ he’d told her once. ‘It’s the only way to be a happy thief. And so many people have so little while so few have so much. It’s not fair.’

  Buttons had made their winter easier, even if her family didn’t notice. Why would they? It was Cinderella who did the day to day housekeeping and not even her step-mother had noticed they didn’t have enough money for the food that was appearing on their table. But then her step-mother had never understood money – not until they’d run out of it, at any rate. She had been born in wealth and married in wealth and it was only when she’d run away with Cinderella’s father she’d had to learn the cost of things. It appeared to have been a very long learning curve.

  ‘Ah, there you are!’ Buttons smiled as a small brown nose emerged from the warm gap between the oven and the tiles. He broke off a piece of cheese and held it out.

  ‘Urgh, a mouse,’ Cinderella pulled her feet up onto the chair. ‘That must be the one all the fuss was about this morning.’

  ‘He’s a cheeky little fella this one,’ Buttons said, as the mouse confidently ran towards him and sat up on his hind legs to take the offered chunk of cheddar. ‘He’s everywhere I go. Well, he was until last week. He must have followed me here and decided to stay.’ The mouse didn’t scurry back to his hiding place as Cinderella expected, but stayed where he was, settling down on his haunches and nibbling contentedly. ‘I don’t blame him,’ Buttons said. ‘He a mouse with good taste.’

  ‘It’s probably not even the same mouse. Mice don’t follow people around.’ She smiled. Sometimes with Buttons it was very hard to tell if he was joking or not.

  ‘Oh, it’s him. Look, he’s got a little scar on his back. See?’ He winked at her. ‘Same mouse.’

  ‘Well, I can’t guarantee his safety if my step-mother finds him.’ Cinderella slowly lowered her feet back to the ground. If it was Buttons’ mouse then she was somehow less afraid of it. And there was something quite endearing about the way it was sitting between them, happily munching on the cheese.

  ‘I think he’s a hardy little fellow,’ Buttons said. ‘I know a survivor when I see one.’

  ‘I hear there’s a ball at the castle tomorrow night,’ Cinderella suddenly blurted out. ‘My step-sisters are both going. It’s not fair.’

  ‘Yes, yes there is. There are a few balls lined up I think. I’ve spent a lot of the day fetching polish and ordering the finest wines and foods to be delivered.’

  ‘And the ballroom?’ Cinderella asked. ‘Are the chandeliers glittering? Will there be musicians?’

  ‘You know all this,’ he smiled, but his eyes were thoughtful. ‘You ask me to tell you every time. But yes, it will be quite fantastic. There’s a rumour that the Prince might be reaching the time when he wants to find a wife. If he does, he’ll set a trend for all the young noblemen to marry. Where the prince leads, they follow.’

  ‘Oh, how wonderful,’ Cinderella said, taking a sip of Buttons’ wine and then leaning back in her chair. ‘Imagine how that must be, to have the prince fall in love with you.’ Her voice had dropped to a slightly deeper tone, and Buttons raised an eyebrow. She smiled at him. This wasn’t a new game, nor was it one they played often, but she needed an escape and Buttons was good at providing it.

  ‘Can we?’ she asked. She didn’t need to elaborate. He smiled at her slightly and she smiled back. She didn’t analyse their actions, and nor did she feel any guilt over it, even though no doubt her step-mother and father would be furious if they were caught. They weren’t doing any real harm. It was just a game, and Cinderella was not the sort of girl to feel any shame over her body.

  ‘Whatever you want, princess,’ he said. ‘What are friends for?’

  Cinderella smiled and closed her eyes. They weren’t hurting anyone. And they were friends, after all. As Buttons began to whisper to her, his breath warm in her ear, her drab surroundings were forgotten and she was transported to the castle, full of light and heat and beauty as couples danced around her and waiters moved elegantly between them with glasses of the finest champagne. She twirled from handsome man to handsome man in a dress of emerald green with jewels to match at her slim neck. Even the footmen at the doors couldn’t take their eyes from her. In her fantasy – and it was one she had often – by the end of the evening she would have three men in love with her, all three ready to duel for her, and then the prince himself would sweep her away and marry her with more haste and urgency than even the Viscount for Ivy, and both her step-sisters would watch enviously as she lived happily ever after in the castle.

  Buttons spoke softly of dancing and romance and, as she imagined the prince’s body pressed close to hers, his hand slid up under her dress and his mouth softly kissed her neck. Her breathing came faster as finally, after teasing the soft skin of her thighs, his fingers hit their mark, teasing her to wetness and then sliding inside. She pushed against him and panted as he told her of beauty and music until eventually, her mind a whirl of ballrooms and the prince and music and love, she shuddered against his touch.

  She sighed and lingered in her fantasy for a moment longer before opening her eyes and adjusting her dress and letting her miserable reality settle around her. ‘It’s so much better when you do it than me,’ she said, and smiled, leaning forward and kissing Buttons’ cheek.

  ‘Oh you’re a strange one, Cinderella,’ Buttons’ face had flushed slightly. ‘There aren’t many girls like you.’

  ‘There are lots of girls worse than me,’ she answered. ‘It’s only touching. What’s wrong with that? It feels good. It’s natural.’

  ‘I’m not arguing with you,’ he said. ‘You’re just full of contrasts.’ He poured himself more wine. ‘And rather me than another. I’m your friend. I’ll never hurt you.’

  ‘You’re as strange as I am,’ she said. Her comment didn’t need an explanation, they both knew what she meant. She’d tried once, the first time they’d found themselves playing this game, to touch the boy. Not from any passion for him, but because she was curious and wanted him to feel as nice as she had, but he’d stopped her. He’d said that wasn’t for him
.

  ‘That may well be true, princess.’ He winked at her. ‘That may well be true.’

  She thought again of the castle and all its beauty and was quite envious that Buttons got to spend every day inside it.

  ‘It must be wonderful,’ she said. ‘So much more wonderful than it is in my imagination. I would do anything to be part of that life. Anything at all.’

  ‘Wonderful’s one way to see it, I suppose.’ Buttons finished his food and put the plate on the floor. The mouse scurried over and began sniffing for crumbs. Cinderella made a mental note to give that plate to Rose tomorrow at breakfast. Maybe it would make her sick and she wouldn’t be able to go to the ball. It was a mean thought, but she couldn’t help it.

  ‘Of course it’s beautiful,’ Buttons continued. ‘Beauty is easy with money and these people have the finest of everything.’ He looked at her intently. ‘But court life isn’t all dancing and music and love, Cinderella. The gentle don’t survive well when everyone is after power. Everyone is using other people to shuffle into a position where they have the king or the prince’s ear. It’s a place full of wolves in disguise. Why do you think I feel no guilt stealing from most of these people?’

  Cinderella didn’t say anything. She didn’t care about all that and it wouldn’t matter to her anyway. She had no interest in power, she just wanted beautiful clothes and music and fun. Life had been hard enough over recent years.

  ‘Tell me again about their carriages,’ she said, eagerly. ‘The gold and silver ones. The king and queen’s one that never leaves the castle gates because it’s so encrusted with jewels they fear the ordinary people won’t be able to stop themselves tearing it apart to have a piece for themselves. Tell me about that.’

  She smiled at him, and this time it was his turn to sigh. ‘They keep it in a converted stable at the back of the castle. It’s under constant guard. At night it twinkles as though all the stars in the sky have been captured and sprinkled onto its surface . . .’

  Cinderella closed her eyes and let her mind drift as the familiar words washed over her.

  Buttons left an hour or so later, tipping the coal into the scuttle on his way, and taking the sack away with him to hide somewhere on his way back to the castle. The night had turned bitter, but Cinderella came up the outside stairs in just her worn shoes and with a shawl wrapped round her shoulders and watched until he’d vanished in the foggy mist that was settling over the streets like a blanket.

  She didn’t notice the little mouse valiantly scrabbling his way up the stairs, his fur puffed out a little as if it could somehow protect him from the grip of the icy night. By the time Cinderella had retreated back into the house and firmly bolted the door behind her, he had reached the pavement. He stood up on his hind legs and sniffed the wet air, searching for the right direction.

  This time he didn’t follow Buttons back to the castle, he turned away and scurried through the night towards the forest. He was glad he’d had the cheese and breadcrumbs. He had a long way to travel that night.

  Cinderella had done her best to hide away for most of the next day – even going out for a long walk in the bitter cold – but she’d still been subjected to having to ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at Rose in her new blue dress. Admittedly, she did look prettier in it. Her skin looked less pasty with some rouge applied and the royal blue made her hair look darker. It was even managing to hold some curls, although Cinderella doubted they would last. Doubted and hoped not, if she was honest.

  By the time Ivy’s carriage arrived, she was in a foul mood. She watched through the window as a footman helped Rose and her step-mother inside, her mind a nest of squirming dark feelings that she couldn’t even form into coherent thoughts. It was envy of course, she knew that. Envy and more than a touch of self-pity, but she couldn’t help herself. How was she supposed to feel? It just wasn’t fair. It was as if she didn’t matter.

  ‘Penny for them?’

  The carriage rolled away and Cinderella let the curtain drop.

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Your mother got these for you.’ Her father was standing in the doorway holding up a box of chocolates. ‘It’s a two-layer box. Not cheap.’

  ‘I don’t want them.’ She almost stamped her foot, the way she had when she was annoyed as a small girl. How could a box of chocolates compare with going to a ball at the castle? Was she being laughed at now? It felt like salt in a wound. ‘And she’s not my mother.’

  ‘She’s looked after you since you were very small, Cinderella. She loves you.’ He’d been carrying a chequers board under his arm and he set it down on a coffee table and drew it close to the fire Cinderella had made with some of the coal Buttons had brought. It was a good fire and neither her step-mother or step-sister would feel the benefit of it. A small victory maybe, but it was something.

  ‘You’re not writing tonight?’ she asked.

  ‘I thought we’d have some father and daughter time,’ he smiled at her. ‘Eat some chocolate and play a few board games. What do you think?’

  ‘I think I’d rather be at the ball, but my mother didn’t invite me.’

  Her father sighed and in the glow of the fire she noticed, for the first time, that more of his hair was grey than brown, and wrinkles ran like a spider’s web across his face. How did that happen? He was suddenly middle-aged, not the smiling, solid man who’d bounced her on his knee when her real mother was still alive.

  ‘You have a lot to learn, Cinderella. It’s not so easy as that.’

  ‘She hates me.’ She flopped down into the chair opposite him, feeling more ten than twenty. ‘She always has.’

  Her father burst out laughing. ‘Don’t be so childish!’

  She glared at him – probably childishly.

  ‘Your step-mother, well, she feels a great responsibility for what her daughters lost. For what she lost. You were too young to understand. When she left the old earl and married me their entire lives changed. And does she miss the trappings of her old life sometimes? Of course she does. I could never give her all the things she used to have. Things she’d had all her life.’ He gazed into the flames. ‘But she chose us, Cinderella. Over all of that. And she never looked back.’

  ‘You make it sound like true love.’ Cinderella snorted; it was a ridiculous thought. ‘If my mother hadn’t died, you wouldn’t have needed her.’

  ‘Oh darling,’ he smiled at her softly. ‘It was true love. It is true love. You were too young to remember it all properly. Your mother – well, she could be difficult. If she hadn’t fallen sick then I would have left her for Esme, just like Esme left the Earl for me.’

  Cinderella stared at him as cold crept up from the pit of her stomach and burned her cheeks like ice. He couldn’t mean that. He just couldn’t. ‘You’re lying.’

  Her father shook his head. ‘No. It’s true. It was true love. I was just the old Earl’s secretary, but she fell in love with me and I with her. If you’re lucky you’ll find the same thing one day.’

  ‘Not without going to a ball, I won’t!’ She got to her feet, tears stinging the back of her eyes. How could he have fallen in love with her stupid step-mother? How could he say her mother was difficult? True, she didn’t remember her much, most of her early memories seem to just feature her father and flashes of a woman holding her close and reading her stories, but she was her mother. ‘You’re as bad as she is!’

  She stormed out and stomped up the stairs, leaving the warmth of the fire and the chocolates behind her. She slammed her bedroom door and flopped down on her bed. A few moments later her father knocked on the door but she told him to just ‘Go away!’ before burying her face in her pillow and crying. She wasn’t quite sure who she was crying for, but she knew she was completely alone. Not even her father was on her side. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

  She must have eventually cried herself to sleep, because the next thing she knew, she was freezing cold on her bed and lights were being carried through the hallway, slivers of
yellow moving and creeping under her bedroom door. There was a flurry of activity in the hallway; then feet coming up the stairs and her step-mother’s laughter, loud and brash, dancing up ahead of them.

  They were back.

  Cinderella wrapped her shawl around her and lit the candle by her bed as if that small flame could give some heat as well as light, and then crept over to the door. She didn’t want to face them and be drawn into conversation, but she did want to hear what they were saying. She hoped it had gone badly for them. After all, her step-mother had shamed the old Earl she’d wed by walking out on him, and although he’d died two years ago it was likely she still wouldn’t be welcome in the court circles. Even being the daughter of a lord was no shield against scandal. The sound of merry, tired giggles, however, put paid to that hope. Cinderella looked at the clock on the wall. It was just after half-past one.

  ‘Oh, Rose. How wonderful.’ Her step-mother had reached the top of the stairs and Cinderella carefully pulled her door open a fraction to hear them more clearly. ‘You danced with two Earls. Two. Can you believe it?’

  ‘It didn’t mean anything. It was just dancing.’ Rose was quieter, still down in the hallway. ‘Oh, it’s good to get these shoes off. They’re killing my feet.’

  ‘And the prince kissed your hand!’

  ‘I think he kissed everyone’s hand.’ Rose’s voice was full of good humour. She didn’t sound like Rose at all. Then her feet thumped up the stairs. That sounded like Rose; she didn’t have an ounce of grace in her clumsy body.

  ‘But isn’t he handsome, Rose? I mean, I knew him of course, when he was a boy and he always had something about him, but well . . .’

  ‘Yes, he’s very handsome. Now, please, please, please help me get this dress off before my ribs break. I told you it was too small.’

  ‘Men like a slim waist, Rose. And, unfortunately, you’re rather too fond of food.’

  Their voices faded and then there was the click of a door closing as the two women disappeared into her step-sister’s room. Cinderella waited until there was only silence and then pushed her door shut. Her blood raced through her veins, the cold and her tiredness sloughed off as she absorbed what she’d heard. Two earls. And the Prince had kissed Rose’s hand.