by Kathryn Moon
THE PRINCESS AND THE PEACH
Kathryn Moon
Copyright © 2015 Angela Timms All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the permission of Angela Timms.
ISBN-13: 978-1511912648
ISBN-10: 1511912642
DEDICATION
For Niall D Smith & my mother and father
1 Abigail is a little girl who always thought that she was a princess. Her mother always treated her like a princess. Her father treated her like a princess. She acted like a princess and that was good enough for her.
She wore beautiful dresses which her mother sewed for her. She had a pretty sparkly tiara and she would wear these every day. When she played in the garden she would wear them. When she walked down the street she would wear them so that those around her would know that she was a princess.
It was Christmas and like every other year of her life, her grandmother was coming to stay.
Granny was an old lady. Abigail thought that she must be at least a hundred. She had told all her friends at school about her Grandmother who was the oldest person alive. She had got very cross when her teacher had said that her Grandmother could not be that old. Abigail knew better and her teacher as always was wrong.
The day of her Grandmother’s arrival, Christmas Day, had come. The house had been cleaned. She liked that as her mother would clean in front of her. She would step downstairs step by step as her mother swept the stair in front of her. She would walk slowly down the hallway as it was cleaned in front of her and then she would point to any dust or dirt that she saw and say. “You have failed me, you must try harder”. Her mother would then smile and remove the offending dust or dirt.
That had gone on for over a week and now the house was spick and span. The lights were clean, the skirting boards were clean and the carpet would be threadbare if it was cleaned any more.
Now they were all waiting for her in their best clothes. The table was laid for tea. The best china was set out and the cruet set had been polished. Pepper was in the pepper pot decanted into pretty glass pots for the table.
The tablecloth had been washed, ironed and checked for any marks. It was perfect. The cutlery had been washed and polished and laid out. One set for each course plus one for the bread. All laid out in place.
Abigail had watched in wonder as her mother had folded the napkins into little flowers and tucked each one into the wine glass. One glass for red wine, one for white, one for water. It was all laid out beautifully.
Abigail had helped with the cooking too. She had cleaned out the baking bowl. She loved to run her fingers over the inside of the bowl and then lick the mixture off of her fingers one by one. It tasted good, sweet and sticky. It was her treat for helping. Today she had a double treat as there were scones to bake and a big cake. Not the Christmas cake and pudding. Those had been made ages ago. These were tomorrow cakes that would be eaten for tea.
The morning had been magnificent. She had sat next to the Christmas Tree and watched the television while her Salt was in the salt pot. and sauces had been mother cleaned the room. Everywhere was decorated with sparkling tinsel and the tree had a beautiful fairy on the top of it.
Abigail was a little cross though. As Granny was visiting she had to wait to open the presents that Santa had left for her. This wasn’t altogether fair and she knew it. So when her mother went out of the room she walked to the door and closed it. Then she went back to the pile of presents and picked out the first one that had her name on it. She ripped off the paper and inside she found a cardboard box which contained a plastic horse for her doll. She smiled and looked at it, turning the box over to be able to break the tape which sealed it and then the box was open and the horse was hers. It was a brown one with a brown mane and tail. It had a matching nosebag, saddle and bridle and a broom. She just knew her doll would enjoy cleaning the stable with that. Her dad had made her a wonderful stable and the horse she had already was tucked up warm in there.
Just at that moment her mother came back in. “Abigail, now what did I say?”.
Abigail looked down at the horse. “I’m sorry mummy, I couldn’t wait. Santa brought them last night. It is hard to wait until later. It is Christmas Morning after all.”
She did feel a bit guilty. It was a horrible cold feeling that she had done something wrong. It was her present though and it was unfair that she was made to wait. She thought about being nasty about the present just to make it her mother’s fault and so that her naughtiness would be forgotten but just then her Granny arrived. She put the horse down and her mother quickly put it back into the box and put the wrapping paper back around it.
She didn’t do too bad a job of it and it did look as though the present had been badly wrapped, not already opened.
Her mummy smiled at her and Abigail smiled back. She had got away with it but then again, it was Christmas.
She went to the door with her mother and there was Granny in her thick black coat. Her little pill box hat sat on her neat curls and her face was powdered, with neatly applied lipstick making her mouth stand out. There was no sign of any mascara or other make-up. Perhaps a little blusher but she couldn’t be sure.
Granny’s big black handbag was hanging over her arm and in her other hand she had a carrier bag full of wrapped presents.
Granny smiled, her eyes sparkling. “It is good to see you all. I have missed you.”
Abigail’s mother cried and put her arms around her mother. “I’m sorry mum, it has just been so long.”
Abigail laughed at her mother and gave her granny a hug. “I miss you too.”
Granny smiled. “Well it seems that Santa has dropped some presents off at my house for you too. Would you like me to put them under the tree with your others?”
Abigail scowled. “No, I would like to open them and see what is inside.”
Granny laughed. “Well in one of them you may find the gift of patience. It is up to your mother when we open our presents. Santa has brought me some as well and I’d like to open mine too. What shall we do Janet? Shall we open them?”
Janet, Abigail’s mother, laughed. “I’d love to open the presents. Shall I call Jack?”
Granny smiled. “I think you had better before this little one gets overexcited. Could I ask Jack to fetch my suitcase from the car as well please? I didn’t bring too much but I know he will say that I have. Where is he?”
Janet looked behind her as if she was going to see him there. “You know I haven’t seen him for an hour or so. I would imagine he is in his shed tinkering with his inventions. I told him to keep the place tidy and not to touch anything. I think he has thought that the best way to do that is not to be in the house at all.”
Granny laughed. “He is probably right, he is rather good at making a mess.”
At that moment there was a loud “bang” from outside and as they ran into the garden smoke was coming out of the shed. It billowed up into the frosty air and out in a cloud from the front of the shed.
Janet screamed and ran for the shed. Granny tried to catch her but she was too quick. She ran across the snowy garden and to the shed door just as Jack came out, covered in soot and smiling which made his teeth stand out starkly even more white against his smoke smutted mouth.
In his hand he grasped a peach. It was mostly black from the soot on his hands but it was very clearly a peach. He held it up and he smiled. “I’ve done it. I’ve made a peach.”
Granny glared at the be-sooted man in dismay. “My goodness, what on earth have you done?”
Jack smiled
and waved the peach. “What have I done? What have I done? I’ve made a peach.”
Granny looked disappointed. “My dear, we have had peaches for many years. I don’t think that making a peach will be anything new.”
Janet turned to her mother. She was half way across the snowy lawn. “Mother dear, Jack didn’t say he grew a peach, he said he made a peach.”
Granny’s mouth slammed shut with a slightly audible clack from her false teeth. “Oh, I see what you mean now. Well that is something special. I am sure it will be able to feed lots of starving people in Africa.”
Jack grinned from ear to ear. “Yes, now you know why it is so important. Of course there will have to be tests.”
Abigail looked at the peach. “Can I have the peach?”
Jack, her father, smiled. “I’m sorry dear. You cannot have this peach. I will buy you a peach when the shops are open again.”
Abigail stamped her foot on the carpet by the door where she stood and it didn’t make any of the sound that she had hoped that it would. “I want that peach. It is Christmas daddy, how can you say no!”
Jack smiled then tried to swallow the smile as he knew his daughter was totally serious. “No my dear, I can say no very easily. You cannot have this peach. It is a special peach and it may harm you.”
Abigail ran off, tears falling from her eyes as she had been told she could not have the peach. She wanted that peach.
Jack went back into his shed, put the peach down on the table and dusted himself off. Janet went back into the house and thought about chasing Abigail upstairs but she had done that so many times and she knew it would only mean an hour or so standing outside Abigail’s bedroom trying to get her out. She had long learnt that leaving Abigail to come out on her own was far quicker as boredom was more powerful than anything she could say.
Granny went and sat in the living room in her usual chair near the Christmas Tree. The television was on so she resigned herself to watching whatever was on and waiting for the family to come in. She looked the tree over and smiled her approval. She looked around the room and then sat back, hopeful of a sherry.
Janet came in with her sherry on a little tray. She had one too.
Granny smiled. “So you aren’t upstairs trying to talk our little princess down?”
Janet shook her head. “No, it is Christmas. She will be down soon enough.”
Granny gave her a knowing look. “You are a good girl and you have learnt.”
They didn’t hear their little princess as she stepped oh so quietly down the stairs. Step by step as she knew where every squeaky board was and could avoid them. She had often crept downstairs when everyone was asleep. This was mostly because she didn’t like being told when to go to bed so she had crept down half the stairs and sat there where she could watch the television through the crack in the door.
Now she put that knowledge to good use as she came down step by step. She could see her mother and granny in the living room. She could see her father in the dining room trying to get the fire lit in the grate. She could see her chance and she went for it.
She got to the bottom of the stairs and tip toed down the corridor. She crossed the kitchen, carefully stepping on the mat, so that she didn’t make any sound. She put her hand on the back door latch and carefully and quietly lifted it. She opened it and went out into the snow covered garden. She shivered as the cold air hit her and she wished she had thought about putting on a coat. She couldn’t go back now so she would have to make do with being cold and trying not to think about it.
Step by step she made her way across the garden, trying to keep her footprints inside her mother’s so it was not obvious that she had gone that way.
The door of the shed was already mostly off of its hinges so it was easy for her to pull it open. She pulled and it swung open.
Inside the room was full of very expensive looking equipment. She looked around in amazement but she didn’t know what any of the equipment was for other than it had probably been shiny before it had become soot covered and had a lot of buttons which she just knew her father would tell her not to press.
There on the table was her prize, the peach. She didn’t want to touch anything else. She just wanted that peach.
She reached out her hand and picked it up. It felt a little tingly but she ignored that. She wanted it so she took it and that wasn’t enough for her. She took a bite.
The peach was soft and juicy. The juice ran down her chin and she wiped it away with her sleeve. She had never tasted anything quite like it. It was soft and sweet, perfectly ripe and delicious. So she took another bite, and another, and another until only the stone remained. It was just a peach she told herself. In a way she was a little disappointed but it tasted like a peach, it smelt like a peach and it looked like a peach.
Abigail smiled and put the stone back on the table. “Well that will teach them”.
She was just leaving the shed when she heard something. The something was behind her and it was like a scuttling.
She turned but couldn’t see anything. The room seemed still. What she did see was that the peach stone had cracked and a green shoot was growing from it. She looked at the stone, her head slightly cocked to the left. She tilted her head to the right but it was still there and still growing. The root grew and grew and as it began to fill the shed she backed away and ran out into the garden.
She ran to the house and slammed the door shut. As she was just about to walk away her father came out of the dining room. “Abigail, whatever is the matter?”
Abigail’s mouth slammed shut as she realized what she had done and more importantly that she would have to explain to her father why she had eaten his peach. At that point she decided that perhaps eating it wasn’t such a good idea.
She didn’t have to though as his questions were somewhat cut short by the green tendril that was poking through the keyhole.
Abigail ran to her father and took his hand. “I’ve been a very naughty girl and I am very sorry.”
The tendril grew and grew into the room and Jack grabbed her to pull her away from an exploratory tendril which had split off and was reaching towards her. “Go away!” He shouted as he snatched his daughter away just in time.
The door was smashed from its hinges by the weight of the plant which tumbled into the room and writhed on the floor. It squirmed about and the table stand which displayed the antique jug that Janet loved so much tumbled to the ground. The jug smashed and water spilled across the carpet and the flowers lay broken on the floor.
He didn’t have time to react as the tendril grabbed Abigail firmly around her waist and lifted her up. She flew backwards out of the house as the vine retreated and into the shed. She couldn’t even scream, she was too afraid.
She could only look in horror as she saw the peach stone. The crack in it seemed enormous as she flew through it and she saw the light disappear as the crack closed with a snap behind her.
It was dark, she was alone and there was no vine around her, it had disappeared. She was standing at least. The air was chilled and as she moved her foot and felt the floor, it was carpeted, but it was too dark wherever she was to see anything. She felt around herself in the dark and she found something solid which felt like a table as she felt the legs and tabletop. She felt something on it, a small box and a candle in a candlestick. She had lit a match before so she lit the match and used that to light the candle.
The candle glowed and the light rushed to illuminate a globe where she could see. She could now see the table. It was bright green, its paint oily and thick. On the table as well as the candlestick and matches there were other things, strange things.
There was a necklace which was old. Not antique old, worn out old. Its leather cord had obviously been well worn and it was slightly worn itself. The spiral on it was very distinct. From inner to outer or outer to inner. She didn’t know which. It was a brass like disk with a spiral on it. She didn’t know if it was real brass or bronze. There was a c
rystal point like she had seen in a shop her mother had taken her to once. Her mother had said it was for those people who tell fortunes. There was also a metal ring and also what looked like a tiny metal bottle and an acorn with a crystal stuck into it which had a loop to make it a necklace if it had a chain and a small bell. She looked at each of them and rolled them between her fingers while thinking. There was also a small leather drawstring bag. They didn’t seem to be laid out in any order. Just placed on the table.
She picked up the candle and walked to her right and then to her left. Whatever direction she went there was still darkness and the room seemed to go on forever or it felt like it. So she went back to the table. “Oh dear, she said to herself. What shall I do?”
She picked up the necklace and put it on. She picked up the other things and put them in the little bag and put it in her pocket. “Well if they are here they must be here for a purpose. I’ve seen the films and I’ve read the books. If I am to be on an adventure these things will be the things I need to take me home. They are here for a purpose.”
“Of course they are.” Came a small voice to her right. “They are here for the purpose of being where their owner put them.”
She visibly jumped and turned to her right. She moved the candle so that she could see what she was looking at. Although she really didn’t want to see what was there in case it was nasty.
What she saw standing there was a small brown goat, very tiny, it was a baby, a kid. It looked at her with its big brown slit eyes and tilted its head to the side slightly.
She was fascinated by it but afraid as well. “You can’t talk, you are a goat.” She stated indignantly and glared at him.
The goat stamped his foot but took a step back out of reach of the little girl. “You can’t tell me if I can talk or not. I speak, that is that. Now say sorry for being so rude or I will tell my father and he will butt you so hard you will learn to fly. I’ve never met a talking doll before either. So we are both experiencing something new. If indeed where you come from goats do not talk.”
Abigail looked stunned. “I am sorry, where I come from goats do not talk. I have had a bad day and I am very scared so I hope that you won’t bring your father to butt me. I think that would hurt.”