by Sky Sommers
‘So, we ARE the family she lost…’ she whispers as I nod.
‘She’s your grandmother.’
I let it sink in while the birds chirp around us like crazy.
‘That’s why we are going to see her. So you can see for yourself that she’s harmless. That she cares for you. You’ve hated her for more than half your life. Don’t you think it’s time to give a fair shot at getting to know her?’ I say and rise, hitching Henry on my other hip. He doesn’t even wake.
‘Why would mama say such horrible things about her own mother?’ Hans asks.
‘Your guess is as good as mine, but I think the green-eyed monster had something to do with that.’
‘A monster?’ Hans parrots.
‘Jealousy,’ Greta explains.
‘Why would she be jealous?’
‘Because your grandmother did what she couldn’t do. She managed to feed you and house you and heal you and love you.’
‘Mother loved us,’ Hans protests, rising as well.
‘Why did she go away then when we were ten?’ Greta counters.
‘She didn’t. She couldn’t have left us. She was taken. Just like Mellie says,’ Hans says.
Oh, Mellie. Spinning her own disappearance story. She couldn’t have sent you off to die in the woods either and yet she did.
‘Mother disappeared, nobody knows what happened to her,’ Greta says, taking our basket.
Oh, how wrong you are.
Except I don’t say anything. The conversation has been plenty eventful.
I need them to start bonding with their grandmother, not cause them to doubt their mother’s love.
We move on in silence.
‘How did we end up in the woods in winter with almost no clothes on?’ Greta asks.
A perfectly good question to ask.
‘I mean, what was mother doing? Why wasn’t she looking after us? Or did we run away? Why would we run away?’ Greta ponders.
‘She sent us to get firewood. I remember having an axe with me,’ Hans says from behind us.
‘If mother sent you to get firewood, why would she send me with you? I’m much more useful in the kitchen. And how come she didn’t notice that you were wearing next to nothing?’ Greta asks, handing the basket back to Hans to carry.
‘She couldn’t have done it on purpose,’ Hans says. ‘I don’t believe it. Not for a second.’
I stay silent.
‘Why? Why would she do that?’ Greta asks.
Grizelda’s words forever burn in my mind. ‘Like the world would be better off if they weren’t in it.’
Out loud, I tell them the truth, ‘I don’t know, darlings, I really don’t know. I just know Grizelda tells it different and she is not a bad person. Whatever your mother did or didn’t do, she must have had a reason. Everybody does. It might not have been a very good reason, but it was a reason to her. And since your mother is gone and your aunt is rarely in the picture, then I thought you might benefit from getting to know a blood relative.’
‘I’m still glad I brought my axe,’ Hans says patting his side. ‘I’m much older now. If she tries anything, I’ll chop her to bits in no time.’
Oh, lovely.
Out loud I say, ‘Sure, Hans. I understand your feelings. It takes a long time to trust someone when everybody keeps telling you that you should hate the person, be afraid of them and run the other way. That’s all the more reason to start thinking for yourself - to see if YOU like the person and would trust them. Let’s see how this meeting goes and if you really don’t feel comfortable, you don’t have to see her ever again.’
The twins nod.
‘Well, except through the glass window in the kitchen,’ I add.
‘Or in person, when she dines with us,’ Greta says. ‘Because if she doesn’t eat people and is not after us, then we can be around her and don’t lose our pocket-money the nights she dines with us.’
‘I like your thinking, Greta,’ I say as Henry extends his sleepy hands towards her, saying ‘Geta!’
Greta picks up her baby brother and we continue into the woods, towards the not-so-gingerbread-house.
When I spy Grizelda’s hut, it seems to have stilts. Strange, I never told Peter the hut needed buttressing, but what do I know about building wooden huts.
The witch appears in the doorway, waves at us and whistles.
The hut stands up and turns around, having sprouted two giant chicken legs since Henry and I last saw it.
The stilts turn out to be two giant chicken legs.
Ella
Wednesday, May 15th
Godmother kicked me out!
I was by myself for one glorious week until Mellie arrived. In a carriage.
I thought because my aunt treats me different from the twins, buys me stuff, pampers me when I’m in a bad mood - like when Betty tried to call me Cinders - that Mellie would be happy to see me. She wasn’t. Far from it. I will never forget HOW she looked me up and down and just shook her head and said, ‘You can’t stay here.’
No ‘Hello!’. No ‘Nice to see you, darling!’. No ‘How did Ailmsworth go?’ and no “Sorry I never showed up, I HOPE YOU’RE ALRIGHT!!!!’.
She kept stealing so many glances at the carriage so much so that I decided to feel her mind about who was in there. She started humming and that threw me off. I asked if she was cranky because she hadn’t found new parents for that baby girl yet and she JUST BLEW UP AT ME!
Me, her favourite goddaughter!
She kept yelling and yelling and yelling and I couldn’t help feeling it was only partly to do with me. She was yelling stuff about herself, how things didn’t work out for her financially and how she cannot afford to have another mouth to feed and how giving up Ellie - I think that was the name of that orphan - was the worst thing that she had had to do in her life. Things like that. While I was flattered she had named the orphan after me, well, my hated nickname really, so I don’t know whether I should be flattered, I kept thinking - what about giving us up? Me and Hans and Greta? Why was someone else’s rejected baby more special than Aunt Mellie’s own kin?
Mellie told me to pack up in an instant and go back to Father’s.
So, I did. In the state she was in, I thought it was best not to bring Ailmsworth up in case her beau WAS waiting in the carriage. Her food cupboard was getting empty anyway.
Chapter 19. Beaus and Carriages
Grace
The house is quiet. With one less mouth to feed and wash up after and boss around, I have a little bit of time and space all to myself.
It’s been a week since the girl moved out.
Some mail arrived for Ella the day she left, but since it’s her mail, I haven’t opened it and she hasn’t come by to pick it up.
Right, if I have time, I should spend it teaching Henry to speak, not thinking about Ella.
My boy is a sweet, but a quiet soul.
At the age of two and a half, he still cooes and tries to tell us things, but it sounds like some kind of made-up language.
Definitely not English.
‘Henry, come sit with mama, let’s learn some words.’
He runs towards me and jumps into a hug.
How long will I be able to do that?
I know exactly how long.
I pick up a bowl of fruit and show him an apple.
‘Apple,’ I say.
‘Apl?’ he says and reaches for it.
Close enough.
‘Now look! Banana!’
‘Yellow,’ Henry says.
‘Yes! Yellow banana!’ I smile at him.
‘Nana.’ He nods looking grave.
‘You can call me Nana anytime, sunshine,’ says Grizelda, popping her head around the door. ‘Hans and Greta do,’ she beams at me. ‘Thank you, Grace!’
‘What are you doing?’
‘Teaching.’
‘Teaching? What on earth for? The kid will learn on his own,’ she says. ‘Or in school.’
‘Well, he’s two and a half years old and doesn’t talk and school is far off,’ I say.
Grizelda shakes her finger at me, ‘Be that as it may. I’m not here about that. I thought we had a good talk.’
I feel like I’m being scolded by my headmistress. ‘We did. Why?’
‘Then why did you evict poor Ella? Are you that afraid of what she’ll find in your thoughts?’ Grizelda asks, peeling Henry a carrot.
‘’Ot,’ he says.
‘Carrrr-ot,’ I try to enunciate. ‘I didn’t evict her, she left.’
‘Ok.’ The witch shrugs.
‘No, look, she really did leave all by herself. See the letter she left?’ I say, rummaging around in my apron.
The letter looks a bit worse for wear. Well, I do dry my hands on my apron quite a lot. But it’s still readable.
‘Well, you’d better prepare. Ella is about to move back. I just saw Mellie in a fancy carriage with a beau.’
‘And?’ I ask, not seeing her point. ‘Is Mellie’s house not big enough for all three of them? She has already evicted everyone else…’
She looks at me like I’m daft. ‘Would you invite a beau to stay with you when your GODdaughter’ Grizelda winks, ‘is gorgeous and much much younger than you are? Men have a wandering eye, you know…’ Grizelda winks.
‘You think she’ll evict Ella because she’s competition?’ I goggle.
‘Whatever else she is, Ella is as pretty as a picture, you have to admit that,’ the witch says and I sigh and nod, bracing myself for the incoming.
Ella
Friday, May 17th
I’ve been waiting for it my whole life and now I can’t go to the ball?
My life is over. If I hadn’t been at Mellie’s for a week, I would have received the invitation and had time to reply. If only I had checked my desk yesterday! There would still have been time… if only SOMEONE hadn’t HEAPED stuff onto my desk so I couldn’t find a damn thing on it!
Wait, someone’s at the door…
I just had a personal delivery of a basket of fruit from the market. I guess the merchants DID believe Grace’s stories about my test shopping trip to Ailmsworth, and they are trying to get into my good graces. They even believe Grace is training me to take over the restaurant.
Since I can’t go to the ball, that might now be my only option.
At least my reputation is safe.
Still, I will NEVER forgive Father and Grace for not bringing the invitation to my attention sooner!
Days…DAYS went by before I noticed a very fancy envelope with my name on it under piles of clean clothes on my desk. Only then did I discover I had been invited to the ball, but I HAD MISSED THE RESPONSE DEADLINE!!! The RSVP was due two days ago! The same day I got back here!!
When I rushed to the palace to tell them I came to accept in person, the uppity lady to whom I was directed snapped my head off and lectured me on the importance of being prompt. She said everybody else had replied on time and those who hadn’t were deleted from the list and their invitations had gone to those on the waiting list. My invitation had already been given to someone else!!! I asked if there were any extra invitations and she just stared at me.
Father saw me crying my eyes out and asked me what was wrong. Of course, I told him. Them. Of course, Grace made it out to be my fault. Even so, she went and asked the palace. For a minute, hope surfaced that maybe they would make an exception for her.
No such luck. There really were no extra invitations. How will I explain it at school that the king’s favourite niece is not going to the ball?!?
Unless my Godmother fixes it. She almost cost me my reputation in Ailmsworth, she better fix this. Mellie always says she knows important people and can influence events by just talking to someone who is in charge. Visitor or not, she will see me.
Godmother can’t fix it.
Despite all her talk, she doesn’t know anyone in charge. She doesn’t know the king, she doesn’t know the Queen, she doesn’t even know the person in charge of seating!
My life is over!
I did tell her about what happened in Ailmsworth and while she never apologised for not showing up, she told me she would fix things so John’s Father wouldn’t remember. Meaning she will pay Grizelda for her service. I hope the witch does a two for one deal for Father and son.
Chapter 20. The Invite
Grace
Two days after Ella’s return, we are having an emergency family meeting at 11PM.
Again.
Luckily, this time it’s not about her reputation. That is intact and I told her so when she arrived on our doorstep.
‘Tell me what happened,’ Peter prompts Ella, handing her a handkerchief.
He got back from his research trip only yesterday.
He has no clue about the sea-side trip drama and I’d like to keep it that way.
Ella sniffs, ‘I didn’t know replying by a certain deadline was such a big thing…not when they already INVITED me!’
‘What did you think RSVP meant? What do they teach you at that school!’ I huff.
My husband interrupts, ‘Tell me everything from the very beginning.’
‘I went by the palace today and they told me I wasn’t on their list of invitees anymore. That since I didn’t RSVP by May 15th, then they concluded that I didn’t want to come and they offered my place to the next in line, so now I can’t go…’ A tear starts running down Ella’s cheek.
‘When did you go by the palace?’ her father asks her.
‘Today, I told you,’ she snaps.
‘At what time?’ he asks.
‘I don’t know. Today…In the afternoon, I guess…I sought out the lady-in-waiting who was supposed to be in charge and she didn’t even have the decency to talk to me nicely. She started walking somewhere and was pretty shitty about even having to explain things to me.’
That’s because you caught her when she was going somewhere important. Like to a tryst. Or to an audience with the king or queen. Or just home. They don’t keep the formal nine to five at the Palace.
‘The ball is in less than two weeks, on May 31st and you only found out about it now?’ Peter asks.
‘Well, I thought hey knew who I was, cared enough to invite me and they had to count on me showing up. I didn’t think RSVP was a must-do. I thought they would count on everybody attending who they had invited. I didn’t know there was a waiting list and that they would give my invitation to someone else!’
‘But you said it mentioned RSVP.’ Peter says.
Ella starts crying again.
‘May I see the invitation, please?’ Peter asks.
‘I don’t have it, I threw it away, now that I’m not going,’ Ella snaps.
‘Well, go fish it out!’ I tell her.
‘I can’t, I’m too upset…’ Ella says and puts her face in her hands, mimicking sobs.
Hans goes outside and sifting through scraps finds the invitation in our bin.
Peter picks it up and reads it out loud:
‘What did you think RSVP meant? What do they teach you at that school!’
He looks at Ella and then at me, ‘It definitely says RSVP. This comes from a French expression répondez s’il vous plaît, meaning “please respond’. You were expected to respond. This is quite clear. You should have replied formally two days ago. Sorry, darling.’
‘I wasn’t even…’
Here two days ago. Do you honestly want to tell your father you were away for a week doing gods know what by yourself?
Ella bites her lip and the waterworks start aga
in. ‘I asked the lady what should I do and she said maybe I can get in by way of an exception and that she will speak to the king…But I just know that she won’t do it. Why would she, I am not a relative of hers or anybody important…’ Ella wails and then snaps to attention, staring at me. ‘But you…you know the king. Or are you like Mellie, all bark and no bite?’
Oh, don’t you lump me in with her. How inclined am I to help you when you insult me, what do you think?
Ella sits up straight, tears gone. ‘Can you help me?’
‘I know the king, I could ask him about that exception and for you to be put back on the list. It will depend on whether they are at full capacity and why they are having the ball in the first place.’
‘When will you ask him?’ Ella pipes up.
A little gratitude would help. Stepmothers have all the responsibility of a parent in exchange for zero appreciation.
I glance at the clock. ‘It’s midnight. Tomorrow, I’ll go and see him tomorrow.’
Next morning, I take a basket of goodies and head for the Royal gardens.
Again.
I pass on my message and half an hour later, here we are.
‘Hi, Tom, how are you?’ I say and smile. ‘About that Spring ball. Thank you for sending Ella the invitation. I apologise that she didn’t reply on time.’
‘What do they teach them at that school?’ the Beast wonders aloud.
There is no point telling him the why’s and how’s. ‘Is there anything that can be done or are you really at full capacity? As I’m catering it, I should know, you know.’
‘Oh, didn’t Belle tell you? She has decided to go with something out of this world,’ the Beast looks uncertain.
‘Really? Good to know now before I start buying the ingredients for the sweet and savoury,’ I say, partly relieved to have lost the commission because catering for twenty is one thing, catering for two hundred quite another. Still, Belle could have sent me a note or something. I can still use the things I have already bought at the restaurant. I’ll have to see about the quantities…