by Carys Jones
‘Did you straighten it?’ Tilly wondered.
‘Yeah.’ Josephine ran her hands over her sleek mane, revealing sparkling nails.
‘You’ve painted your nails!’
‘Yeah.’ Josephine held her manicure towards her laptop’s camera, offering Tilly a prime view of her glitter nail polish.
‘Everyone at my school wears nail polish,’ she shrugged.
‘Oh.’
‘So how do you like school?’ Josephine was still smiling.
Tilly wanted to be honest, to say how much she hated school and yearned for a release from her five-year sentence. But from the corner of her eye she could make out her mother, sat with her head bent and threading a needle. It was difficult to tell if her expression was pinched from concern or concentration. Either way, Tilly didn’t want to risk worrying her.
‘It’s OK. I’m still kind of finding my way around. What about you?’
‘I love my school!’ Josephine declared giddily. ‘All the girls are so nice and they live near me. Tomorrow, a group of us are going to the cinema.’
‘Tomorrow?’ That would be Saturday night, the infamous evening when you were supposedly cursed if you didn’t go out.
‘Uh-huh.’ Josephine was nodding eagerly. ‘You’ll have to come down and meet everyone! There’s Poppy and Lilac, oh and Vivian. We could have a sleepover.’
‘They’ve all been nice to you?’
‘So nice!’ Josephine looked like she’d never stop smiling. ‘And there’s so much to do, Tilly! Yesterday I saw Lily James crossing the street, can you believe it?’
Tilly gazed blankly at her friend.
‘Lily James!’ Josephine repeated, her tone urgent and excited. Tilly could only shake her head.
‘Jeez, Tilly, she’s Cinderella in the new movie. I thought that was like, one of your favourite films!’
Suddenly, Tilly felt like she was talking with one of her sisters. Cinderella wasn’t one of her favourite films it was one of theirs. Josephine seemed to have forgotten that.
‘How did she look?’ Tilly enquired politely.
‘Stunning!’ Josephine responded, her eyes bulging and bright. ‘I mean, she had on these amazing shoes! If I’d been closer to her I’d totally have asked her where she got them.’
Tilly felt like her friend was speaking another language. If she’d been fortunate to meet Cinderella she’d ask her what it was like to kiss a prince and attend a royal ball. Yet all Josephine had been concerned about were a pair of shoes.
‘Was she wearing the glass slippers?’ Tilly asked suddenly, realisation dawning on her. Of course Josephine would have wanted to ask about those, they were the most amazing pair of shoes either of them had ever seen. Both girls had professed as much.
‘Of course not, silly.’ Josephine laughed but it was warm and gentle, not mocking. ‘She was in Jimmy Choos.’
‘In what?’
‘Oh my goodness, Tilly, I’ve missed you so much! I’d forgotten what a character you are!’
‘I’ve missed you too. I was thinking –’
Josephine’s head suddenly turned away from the screen. Tilly could make out muffled words in the background.
‘I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to go,’ Josephine told her as she snapped back towards her camera. For someone who was sorry she was smiling profusely.
‘Poppy’s called about tomorrow so I really need to talk to her. Bye, speak soon! Kisses!’
Josephine blew a kiss and then the screen was once again a sea of blue.
Leaning back in her chair, Tilly gazed at the screen. Now there was only the hum of the computer filling the room.
‘So?’ her mother spoke from the other end of the table. ‘Was it nice speaking with Josephine?’
Tilly nodded slowly. ‘Yeah. It was nice.’
She kept looking at the screen. Josephine had changed since the last time she’d seen her, and it wasn’t just her hair. But Tilly was the same, still a ‘character’. What if everyone around her continued to change and she was fated to remain the same – frozen in time like some forgotten princess?
You SHALL Go to the Ball!
‘A party?’ Tilly turned around in surprise to face her mother, who had been plaiting her hair. Ivy firmly gripped her daughter’s shoulders and spun her back around so they were both facing the mirror.
‘Tilly, stay still until I’m finished.’ Ivy’s words were mumbled as she clenched a hair band between her teeth.
‘When is it?’ Tilly was staring at her mother’s reflection. She watched Ivy complete the plait and secure it with the band.
‘Next Saturday.’
‘Really? Wow.’ Tilly climbed up onto the double bed to sit beside her mother. They were in her parent’s bedroom, which always smelt of strong perfume.
‘It was your dad’s idea.’ Ivy was nervously wringing her hands together.
‘I think an anniversary party sounds really fun.’ Tilly leaned against her mother. It was Sunday evening and she was willing the weekend not to end. ‘How long have you and Dad been married?’
‘Seventeen years,’ her mother said softly.
‘Seventeen years!’ Tilly exclaimed. ‘That’s like … forever.’
‘Well, it’s definitely something worth celebrating.’
‘Who’s coming?’ Tilly could feel bubbles of excitement gathering inside her. Their last family party had been over two years ago when her older cousin, Gregg, turned eighteen.
‘All the usual suspects,’ her mother told her with a tight smile.
‘Like Auntie Caron?’
‘Yep.’
‘And Uncle Stew?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Gregg and Alicia?’
‘Yes, Tilly, everyone should be there.’ Her mother was getting up and heading towards the bedroom door. Tilly wanted to stop her because once she walked out onto the landing she’d turn around and tell her daughter that it was time she went to bed. And once Tilly went to bed she was one step closer to Monday. Just thinking about a new school week made Tilly shudder.
‘Will there be cake?’ Tilly’s voice was urgent even though her question wasn’t. Ivy paused by the door.
‘I think your gran is making a cake.’
Her mother pressed down on the handle.
‘Sponge cake?’
‘Probably fruit, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh.’ Tilly’s shoulders sank. Unlike the adults in her family she failed to see the appeal of fruit cake. It was dense and not nearly as sweet as sponge cake.
‘It’s getting late.’ Ivy was on the landing now, looking at the small wooden clock hanging on the far wall. ‘You should get to bed.’
Tilly remained on her mother’s bed, idly kicking her legs. The party was a new source of discussion, one she intended to exhaust before having to go to bed.
‘Will there be music?’
‘Your dad’s friend, Steve, will probably DJ.’
‘Will there be a buffet?’
‘Tilly, come on. It’s bed time.’
With a reluctant shove, Tilly launched herself off the bed and skulked over to her mother.
‘Mum?’ She titled her head to look up at her mother as she passed her.
‘What, Tilly?’ Ivy sighed.
‘Seventeen years isn’t an anniversary people normally have a party for, is it?’
Her mother pursed her lips and shook her head. ‘It’s not.’
‘So how come you and Dad are?’
Something Tilly couldn’t decipher flickered in her mother’s eyes.
‘You’ll understand when you’re older,’ Ivy replied. ‘Now go to bed.’
‘Why wouldn’t I understand now?’ Tilly demanded, instantly wounded.
‘Tilly, bed.’ Her mother was pointing to the bedroom door on the other side of the landing.
‘Fine.’ Tilly lowered her head and took slow, pained footsteps over towards her bedroom.
‘Why is the party on a Saturday night?’ Monica asked at breakfast th
e next morning, clearly appalled by the news.
‘Yeah, couldn’t it be like a Friday or something?’ Maria added.
Tilly had no answers. Her father was already at work whilst her mother was upstairs sleeping, leaving her to round up breakfast on her own. She was certain her parents had incorrectly assumed her sisters would intervene and help her out. Instead, all they were interested in was moaning.
‘Mum said it was this Saturday,’ Tilly explained as she carefully poured cereal into a bowl.
‘I thought I heard her talking about it on the phone yesterday.’ Monica thoughtfully pursed her lips.
‘Aren’t you excited?’ Tilly asked, her eyes wide. She loved family parties. It was a chance for her older relatives to coo over her and tell her how much she’d grown. There was always cake, jelly, and too many sandwiches. People would talk and reminisce late into the night while Tilly got to spin around on the dance floor to her favourite songs.
‘Excited?’ Monica almost choked. ‘Are you kidding? Family parties are the worst, they are unbelievably lame.’
‘Maybe we don’t have to go,’ Maria said hopefully.
‘Of course you have to go!’ Tilly told them indignantly. ‘It’s for their seventeenth anniversary! They’ll want you there.’
Her sisters shared a look but said nothing.
‘Right, well, we’d better head off.’ Monica smoothed on one final layer of lip gloss with her finger.
‘Wait.’ Tilly still hadn’t finished eating her breakfast.
‘For what?’ Maria asked, one hand resting on her hip, the other clutching the strap of her school bag.
‘For … for me,’ Tilly said. Monica’s shiny lips twitched like was about to laugh.
‘We’re not walking with you,’ Maria informed her. ‘You need to find friends from your own year to walk with.’
Tilly glanced down helplessly at her bowl of cereal. She’d yet to succeed in making friends in her own year. She sat by Kate and her cronies in registration but she knew they hardly counted as friends, and moreover they’d never even consider walking to school with her.
‘Hang on.’ Monica was reaching into her bag. Items jangled from within as she rummaged around and she parted the top of the bag to peer inside.
‘Come on,’ Maria whined, jerking her head towards the door. ‘We need to get going.’
‘You can borrow this,’ Monica pulled out an outdated iPod and threw it to Tilly. It landed on the table and skittered towards her.
‘Where did you get that?’ Maria demanded.
‘Josh Rubens lent it to me.’ Monica shrugged as her cheeks began to turn crimson.
Maria arched an eyebrow and stared at her sister. ‘Why?’ she demanded.
‘Look, can we just get going?’ Monica pleaded. Then she looked over at Tilly, who was tentatively reaching for the iPod.
‘Listen to that when you’re walking in. That way you won’t feel so … you know. Just make sure no one pinches it at school.’
‘Yeah, cause who knows what you’d need to do for Josh Rubens then,’ Maria teased.
‘Shut up.’ Monica gave her sister a sharp pinch on the upper arm. ‘Make sure you leave in the next ten minutes else you’ll be late,’ she added with a backward glance. Tilly nodded, then her sisters were gone and she was alone with her breakfast.
Almost fifteen minutes later, Tilly was hurriedly locking up the front door. She’d loitered too long at the bottom of the stairs, considering shouting up to her mother to say goodbye but ultimately feared she’d wake her. And now she risked being late.
Her backpack swung on her shoulders as Tilly scurried down the driveway and began following the route her father normally drove to the school. It was only at the park that the synchronicity would end. Instead of going around it, as the cars had to, Tilly would be able to walk straight across.
As she walked she fumbled with the iPod Monica had given her. It took her several attempts to get it working. She inserted the ear buds and rock music instantly blasted into her brain. It was so loud it made the hair on the back of Tilly’s neck stand up. She jumped, certain she’d almost gone deaf. The song continued though Tilly made sure to lower the volume. It was no wonder Monica never heard anyone knocking on her bedroom door if she was listening to music this loudly.
Tilly recognised the song. It was one her sisters liked to play over and over again about a guy who had caught his girlfriend cheating. He seemed to enjoy singing about how awful she was and how he’d never take her back. Although it wasn’t the sort of song Tilly would usually listen to, Monica was right in that it did make her feel significantly less alone. In her peripheral vision, she spied the tell-tale green of school jumpers but with music for company she wasn’t as self-conscious as she’d usually be.
Once in the park, Tilly picked up the pace, aware she already risked being late. She hurried past the rusted swings that creaked even when there was no one on them. She had broken into a light run by the time she reached the broken down carousel. If it wasn’t for the students loitering near it smoking, she might have stopped to reminisce. Instead, she scurried by with her personal soundtrack blasting in her ears.
With just one minute to spare Tilly arrived, the playground already growing empty as students filtered into the oppressive building. Gasping, Tilly quickly removed the iPod and shoved it into the base of her bag.
‘What happened to you?’ Kate asked with a smirk as Tilly sat down beside her. It was rare for the others to be seated before her.
‘What?’ Tilly asked as she slid off her backpack and placed it beneath her desk.
Kate scoffed, ‘You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.’
Blushing, Tilly lifted her hands to smooth down her hair. Long strands had broken free from her plait and blown madly about when she’d rushed through the park.
‘Jeez, ever heard of hair spray?’ Kate asked with malice as her friends snickered.
Cheeks burning, Tilly did her best to ignore them, silently vowing to check out the state of her hair when she went to the toilets.
‘Did you hear Sons of Cherry are going on tour?’ Sophie asked. Normally, Tilly would zone out the conversation but she recognised the name of the band. It was the song that had been on the iPod that morning.
‘Of course I heard,’ Kate said sharply. ‘Everyone on earth has. Except maybe …’ Tilly could feel piercing blue eyes on her.
‘Matilda,’ Kate called. ‘Do you know who Sons of Cherry are?’
Tilly wanted to carry on ignoring them – it had worked OK for her so far. But a part of her kept thinking about her Skype call with Josephine and what Maria had said. Maybe Tilly needed to start being more like everyone else if she wanted to be accepted.
‘I know who they are,’ Tilly said softly. ‘They sing “Jezebel Walking”.’
‘Ooh, get you!’ Claire cooed from the end of the desk. Tilly waited for Kate to say something, but instead she tightened her thin lips into a line and turned back towards her friends.
‘So which of you is going to get me a ticket?’
‘I can get one,’ Sophie blurted a little too eagerly. ‘Mum will let me use her credit card.’
‘Sounds perfect,’ Kate purred.
‘Morning, class.’ The door was pushed open and Miss Havishorn walked in, wearing the same brown cardigan she’d worn every day the previous week.
‘How are we all?’ No one replied as she shuffled her way towards the front of the classroom.
‘Talkative as ever,’ Miss Havishorn laughed to herself. ‘Well, let’s crack on with another week, shall we?’
By Wednesday, Tilly knew all the words to “Jezebel Walking”. Monica had yet to ask for the iPod back so Tilly continued to listen to it when she walked to school. Sometimes she listened to it in the evening. She was starting to find something relaxing about the lead singer’s hoarse, emotion-filled voice.
‘Are you getting excited for Saturday?’ Tilly asked her mother, who was sat beside her
at the dining table knitting a purple scarf, presumably for Monica since that was her favourite colour.
‘Huh?’ Ivy blinked as her long knitting needles ceased moving.
‘Saturday?’ Tilly leaned on her chair to peer at her mother. ‘Are you excited for the party?’
Tilly was making the most of her allocated one hour’s use of the computer for the evening. She was trying to get as much of her homework done as possible before her sisters descended upon it and started looking up Sons of Cherry videos and stalking the band on Twitter.
‘Oh, yes.’ Ivy smiled and nodded, staring blankly at the wool she was holding as though she’d forgotten what she was doing.
‘What are you going to wear?’ Tilly pressed. To her, the best bit about parties were always the outfits.
‘Mmm?’
‘What are you going to wear to the party, Mum?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Ivy dropped the needles and wool and pushed back her chair as if they were contaminated.
‘I was thinking, could I wear my new princess dress?’ Tilly wondered. By new, she meant most recently acquired. The dress had been a Christmas gift, which made it almost ten months old and considerably not new.
‘Mmm, sure.’ Ivy’s hand floated absently through the air.
‘Are you sure?’ Tilly had now stopped typing altogether. When there was a small family gathering for Easter earlier in the year, Tilly had asked about wearing her princess dress and had been given a definite no in response. Apparently it wasn’t a suitable outfit for anyone over the age of ten. Tilly instead had to wear a green velvet dress which had once belonged to both Monica and Maria and didn’t even fit properly. The sleeves were too long, which meant Tilly had spent all day shoving them up to a reasonable length.
‘Yeah, wear what you want,’ Ivy said, standing up and smoothing her hands down the front of her jeans. ‘I’m going to go upstairs and lie down for a bit.’
‘OK.’ Tilly shifted in her chair to gaze at the computer again.
‘Tell your dad for me, OK?’
