by Carys Jones
‘Hey, where’s the fire?’
Standing still, Tilly realised how fast she must have been going as she was now breathing hard. She was surprised to see Monica towering over her, one hand on Tilly’s shoulder.
‘You shouldn’t run,’ Monica said sternly, her tone making her sound more fifty than fifteen. ‘Besides, you’re not even late yet.’
Tilly almost shook with relief to see a familiar face. She wanted to remain composed, to show her sister how she was coping with this frightening new environment, but like an undercooked pastry she instantly crumbled. Hot tears began to fall down her cheeks. Monica sent a panicked glance around before firmly guiding her sister down the stairs towards a quiet corridor where they were alone.
‘What’s the matter?’ Monica’s voice was softer than usual. ‘It’s really not so bad here once you get used to it.’
‘I …’ Tilly wiped the sleeve of her jumper across her damp cheeks. ‘I got a detention.’
‘What?’ Monica stiffened with surprise. ‘Are you serious?’
Tilly could only nod as more tears fell from her eyes.
‘Argh, Tilly.’ Monica fished a tissue from her pocket and reached for Tilly’s chin, gripping it and closely studying her face. She began to wipe away as many tears as her tissue would allow.
‘Don’t stress about it now, OK? Crying here is like bleeding out in shark-infested waters. The moment people smell a drop they’ll be drawn to you and rip you to shreds.’
Tilly nodded and willed herself to stop crying.
‘Whatever you did, I’m sure you didn’t mean it.’ Monica was still wiping her face. With her eyebrows drawn together in concentration in the dim light of the corridor, she looked like a younger, more made up version of their mother. The resemblance made Tilly’s breath catch in her throat.
‘There.’ Monica cast a critical eye over Tilly and stepped back, placing her hands on her sister’s shoulders. ‘Forget about the detention and just make it to the end of the day, OK?’
‘What will Mum and Dad say?’
‘They’ve got bigger things to worry about. Besides, I’ve had loads of detentions, so don’t worry about it.’ Monica gave a shrug. Tilly still looked like a startled rabbit caught in headlights.
‘But you’re like, the Golden Child, so they might be pissed off but you can deal with that.’ She squeezed Tilly’s shoulders. ‘You really need to toughen up, squirt, or else this world will just chew you up and spit you out.’
Tilly hung her head shamefully.
‘Look, I need to go before someone sees us together.’ Monica was glancing warily at the corridor ahead as students were starting to filter in. ‘Be tough,’ she offered, before releasing Tilly and darting back the way she had come.
The sun was shining as Tilly’s dad drove her home, which meant he was able to wind down the windows and turn up the stereo, which was currently playing one of his favourite cassette tapes. Tilly did her best to tune the music out but she knew each song by heart. Whenever she heard it, it reminded her of the car journey down to Cornwall where the tape had been turned over so many times she lost count. Annoyingly, her parents hadn’t thought to bring more than one cassette with them for a nine-hour journey, and so Tilly would forever be word perfect on Phil Collins songs. At first she had been quite fond of them, but now they just reminded her of being stuck in gridlock traffic and desperately needing to pee.
‘And I remember …’ Her dad was enthusiastically singing along as he tapped the wheel, not caring about the glances he drew from students walking along the street. Tilly sunk down in her seat hoping no one recognised her as he continued to sing along.
Once the song ended, he didn’t let the tape play on; he rewound it back to the start again.
‘I don’t know why but I love listening to this song when the sun shines,’ he muttered merrily to himself. ‘Strange, huh?’
‘Yeah,’ she said softly. And it was strange, given the song was about someone drowning, a fact her sisters had smugly shared with her during the never-ending Cornwall car journey. While her dad was distracted by his music he hadn’t noticed her red eyes and sour expression. Nor had he asked about her day, which meant her detention got to remain a secret for a little while longer.
The house smelt of roast chicken as soon as Tilly walked through the front door. Normally she’d take a moment to inhale the aroma but instead she quickly stalked off upstairs. She needed to avoid her mother; she’d be the one to ask prying questions about her day, ones she wouldn’t be able to evade.
Tilly was almost within the safety of her tower when the bedroom door creaked open and her mum walked in.
‘How was school?’
With a sigh, Tilly climbed back down the metal ladder and looked at her mother. She looked tired even though she wasn’t working – she’d been let go from the office where she worked as a secretary. Tilly really didn’t understand what could be making her so tired all the time.
‘School was … fine.’ Tilly searched for a reasonable response.
‘It was?’ Hope sparkled in her mum’s eyes, restoring some the colour to her washed out cheeks.
‘Yeah,’ Tilly nodded confidently. ‘It was.’
‘Oh, good.’ Her mum bent down to kiss her cheek. Her lips were cold even though her cheeks were flushed. ‘I’m glad to hear that. Dinner will be ready in an hour, OK?’
‘OK.’
Tilly dove into her cooked dinner. She’d been yearning for it since she got home. Even her mother’s plate was piled high with meat, vegetables, roasted potatoes and gravy.
‘How come we’re having a roast dinner today?’ Maria asked, playing with her food.
‘Yeah, it’s not Sunday,’ Monica agreed.
‘I thought it would be a nice change.’ Their mother smiled. ‘And I know it’s one of Tilly’s favourite meals.’
‘Oh.’ Monica glanced in her sister’s direction. ‘So you’re not mad then?’
Tilly ceased chewing. The meat in her mouth, which had previously been delicious, now felt dry and heavy.
‘Mad?’ Ivy Tilly’s mum offered her daughter a bemused smile.
‘Yeah,’ Monica nodded towards Tilly, ‘because of the detention.’
Tilly felt the white hot heat of the interrogation lamp suddenly burn in her face.
‘What detention?’ Their mother offered the question first to Monica, then to Tilly.
‘Yes, what detention?’ Clive put down his knife and fork, and gazed at his youngest daughter, anger already simmering behind his grey eyes.
‘It’s …’ Tilly squirmed beneath the intensity of their gaze. All eyes at the dinner table were on her. ‘I got a detention for talking during registration.’ She chose to be honest. To drop the bombshell as calmly as possible and hope it didn’t explode too violently in her face.
‘Well.’ Her father was caressing his freshly-shaven cheeks, clearly searching for what to say.
‘Tilly, I’m very disappointed in you.’ It was her mother’s words that pounded against her chest with the power of a wrecking ball.
Disappointment – that was always worse than anger.
‘We’d expect this sort of behaviour from your sisters, but not you,’ Clive added as Monica and Maria shared a disdainful look.
‘Why were you talking in registration?’ her mother asked softly.
‘I … I didn’t mean to.’ Tilly nervously knitted her hands together. ‘The girl sat next to me, Kate, she was the one who was talking.’
‘Kate?’ A bulb went off in Tilly’s father’s mind as he straightened and looked away, searching the space in the room for something. ‘Kate Oswald?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Tilly was nodding.
‘Why were you sat next to Kate Oswald?’ her father demanded. ‘That girl is nothing but trouble. Her father works with me and he’s always moaning about her.’
‘Yes, I remember her from your junior school.’ Ivy was nodding in agreement. ‘She was always such a naughty girl. You don�
��t want to get involved with her, Tilly. I know you’re missing Josephine but you must try to make some decent friends.’
‘Kate Oswald isn’t my friend!’ Tilly blurted angrily, standing up. ‘She hates me!’
‘Hate is a strong word,’ Ivy told her gently.
‘Yeah, well, I hate her too!’ Tilly felt tears gathering behind her eyes. Thanks to Kate, she had ruined family dinner. Her home was supposed to be a haven from the stresses of school but somehow they had followed her in like a persistent shadow and darkened the dining table.
‘That’s it.’ Clive smacked his palms against the table, which shook beneath him, the tape which held it together underneath now struggling.
‘Tilly, you got a detention and it’s no one’s fault but your own. You’re grounded for the rest of the week.’
‘Dad, that’s hardly a punishment!’ Maria objected, pointing at her little sister. ‘She stays in her room all the time!’
‘It’s the punishment we give you girls for a detention so it’s the same for Tilly,’ Clive told them.
‘Well, it’s not fair.’ Maria was folding her arms over her chest, a dark scowl hardening her features.
‘Life isn’t fair,’ their father said softly. His rage seemed to be suddenly ebbing out of him, filtering silently into the air.
‘You heard your father.’ Ivy reached for Tilly’s hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘You’re grounded for the rest of this week.’
Tilly nodded before turning and running out of the room. She heard her father shout after her that she needed to finish her dinner but she’d already lost her appetite.
There was mutiny amongst the townspeople. Tilly could hear their angry cries as she was led to the safety of her tower. The air carried the scent of distant fires somewhere in the distance. Coughing, Tilly allowed her guards to lead her deeper in to the forest, away from the agitated crowds.
‘There is unrest among the people,’ her head guard told her, his tone hard.
‘I know,’ Tilly nodded at him. ‘But what we can do?’
‘There’s nothing you can do, your Majesty. This summer has been long and hard and the land is the land dry and barren. Once the rains come the crops will be replenished and peace will be restored.’
‘Until then?’
‘Until then you must remain in your tower where it is safe. The rains should arrive by the end of the week. Your people will settle.’
Tilly let him boost her up towards the tower. Carefully, she climbed the familiar route amongst the ornate brick work and vines. With each step the roar of the crowds became more distant. Soon it was nothing more than a whisper upon the wind.
Alone, Tilly gave a soft sigh of relief. She had missed the sweeping stone floor and stained glass windows which offered a breath-taking view of her Kingdom. Everything was how she had left it, right down to her book still resting beside the fireplace open on the page she had last read. The fire was now merely embers in the hearth but Tilly didn’t mind. The arduous climb had left her flushed and warm. She picked up her book and moved towards her four poster bed which was covered in soft furs and sumptuous silk sheets. Nuzzling against the fabrics, Tilly felt a million miles away from her problems. She drew her book close and began to read the next chapter.
She read until her eyes strained against the growing darkness as day began to blur into night. Outside, she could hear crickets chirping, replacing the soft bird song which had lazily carried on the breeze. Tilly was safe in her tower. Sighing contentedly, she let her eyes flutter and close.
‘Tilly!’
Eyes flying open, Tilly sat up too quickly, making her head swim. She squinted against the sudden brightness as the overhead light was flicked on.
‘Tilly.’ Her mother looked up at the tower. ‘Here.’ She was carefully holding a plate of half-eaten dinner in one hand, which shook slightly, causing the cutlery to jingle together like seasonal bells.
‘You need to finish your dinner, sweetheart.’
‘But you’re mad at me,’ Tilly pouted before rolling over and facing the wall.
‘I am mad,’ her mother said. ‘But only because I expect better from you. You’ve always been such a good girl, Tilly. I don’t want you to start getting detentions and do badly in school.’
‘Why not?’ Tilly objected. ‘Monica and Maria get detentions all the time.’
‘You’re different.’ Tilly felt a hand softly stroke her back. ‘You’ve always been more sensitive than they are. I don’t want you to lose that.’
Tilly heard the crack in her mother’s voice, which made her decide to turn over. Ivy smiled warmly at her and offered the plate of dinner, her hand still shaking.
‘You need to finish your dinner so you grow up big and strong.’
‘I’ll never be big and strong,’ Tilly objected, but she sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed anyway.
‘Mum, you’re shaking,’ she noted.
‘So I am.’ Ivy looked at her hand in surprise. ‘I’m sorry you’re finding school difficult,’ her mother said. ‘Sometimes life challenges us in ways we don’t understand,’ Ivy added, wringing her hands together as if trying to work the shakes out of them.
‘Like when we went to Cornwall and you and Dad only brought one tape?’ Tilly asked as she shoved a forkful of gravy-soaked chicken in to her mouth.
‘Yes,’ her mother laughed, the sound as soft and magical as dainty silver bells. ‘Just like that.’
And So She Slept for a Thousand Years
Tilly’s sisters were right: being trapped up in her bedroom was hardly a punishment. After she’d finished eating, Tilly carefully came down from her tower and positioned herself on her lower bunk bed.
She glanced longingly at her pile of DVDs, at the latest edition where the blue glitter of the princess’ dress sparkled on the cover. Tilly reached for it and tilted it towards the light. This was another of her favourite films. In the movie the princess wasn’t animated, she was very much real with long, golden hair and a dashing prince. Tilly traced a finger over the dress. She yearned to watch it, to get lost in the storyline and have her heart freeze at the crucial moment when all might be ruined by a wicked stepmother. But that would require going downstairs and she was banished to her room, just like the princess in the film who was sent up to the attic where she had only mice for company.
Her little television was still lacking a DVD player so Tilly had to content herself with watching whatever was on the regular channels. She pressed the power button and the screen illuminated after several seconds. There was a property show on where a young-looking couple were being shown around apartments. Tilly huddled against one of her pillows and settled down, imagining the couple were actually royalty forced to go incognito. Tilly giggled to herself as she interpreted their tense facial expressions for fear that their cover was about to be blown.
Despite the game she attached to it, the property show failed to hold her attention for longer than twenty minutes. Tilly sat up, feeling restless. Her DVD sparkled from where she had left it on the duvet cover. It was pleading with her to at least just watch the beginning. Tilly chewed her lip and considered what her family might be doing.
Her father would be reading the newspaper in the kitchen like he always did after dinner. Monica and Maria would be in their room arguing over what to listen to on their CD player while they pretended to do their homework. Tilly’s mother would be cleaning up dinner or pruning the rose bushes in their tiny garden. No one would be using the television until at least nine o’clock.
Tilly sent a desperate look towards her pink princess clock on the wall beside her window. It was only half past seven. Committing to her decision, Tilly grabbed her DVD and cautiously crept towards the door. She held her breath as she opened it, waiting for someone to pounce from the other side and tell her to remain in her room. But no one appeared – the small, carpeted landing was empty. Taking a deep breath, Tilly darted out and slid down the staircase, making sure to avoid the step near
the bottom which always creaked.
The living room was empty. Soon, her parents would come to occupy the threadbare sofa, snuggling up to watch a detective show on TV. But for now Tilly was alone. She was almost bubbling over with excitement as she hurried over to the DVD player. She could already hear the opening music to her beloved film
Feeling deliciously mischievous, she started the film, sitting cross-legged in front the screen and gazing up at it.
Tilly loved the world in the movie where the fields were full of wild flowers which crept up on to the heroine’s dress. Tilly became absorbed by the film. The characters pulled her in to their perfect world, making their pain hers. Tilly could scarcely breathe when the heroine’s mother took ill. Especially because she knew what was coming. Each time the little girl lost her mother, Tilly felt as though she’d been delivered a blow which knocked the air right out of her lungs. It was so awful, so unimaginable, so –
‘Tilly!’
She straightened and fumbled for the remote, which was precariously held together with black tape. Pausing the film, Tilly turned around, her face burning with shame.
‘You know you shouldn’t be down here.’ Her mother was doing her best to sound angry. Her hair was damp around her shoulders which emphasised how thin it had become in recent months. Her cheeks were glossed with a soft glow. Had she just been having a shower?
‘Mum, I’m sorry, I just …’ Tilly glanced back helplessly at the frozen image on the screen.
‘You were told to stay in your room.’
‘I know.’
‘You’re grounded, remember?’
‘I know.’ Tilly hung her head. She’d disappointed her mother again. ‘I just wanted to watch my film. Not all of it, just a little bit. I swear I wasn’t going to stay here long, it’s just that I don’t have a DVD player in my room.’ She was talking too quickly, her words tumbling against one another. She hoped that she could somehow avert her mother’s anger with her voice alone.
‘Tilly, that’s the point of a punishment,’ Ivy sighed, ‘you have to go without something you want.’
