heard for streets around. And whatever would the neighbours think? It was the middle of the night, after all. And what about her parents? How would she and Jake explain to them when everyone came around to complain?
Tilly had no idea that the Fairy Queen’s magic only concerned her and Grumpy Jake. The fact was, no one else heard a thing. For all their neighbours knew, nothing unusual whatever had occurred at the Hayman’s house that night.
By now Tilly’s room was alive with moonbeams and music and soft golden light. And whenever the tiny diamonds wafted onto Tilly she would nearly burst with excitement and happiness. And it was all the beautiful magic of the Fairy Queen.
Meanwhile the Earth continued its turning and the patch of light from the mirror drifted slowly across the gap in the curtains. Soon the beam shining on the Fairy Queen began to weaken and the spell enchanting the grandfather clocks to wane.
Mr Clock was farthest from the Fairy Queen and was first to cease playing. The other clocks could be heard more clearly then, as if they were taking it in turns.
Thinner and thinner came the beam of moonlight falling on the Fairy Queen, weaker and weaker glowed her golden light and fewer and fewer came the sparkling moonbeams. At the same time the grandfather clocks’ enchantment began ebbing away. Softer too, came the music, as each of them fell silent, until eventually just the music box was left playing.
Then the last glimmer of reflected moonlight winked out … and the notes from the music box began to falter. The Fairy Queen’s glowing began to fade, her turning gradually slowed and the music box ran down.
Eventually, after playing the very last notes of its little tune, both the music box and the Fairy Queen … stopped.
The spell was broken.
After one last shiver of goosebumps Tilly found herself able to move again, and the first thing she did was switch on her bedside lamp. And there, standing just inside her doorway, was Grumpy Jake – an expression of complete bewilderment on his leathery old face.
“W-what happened…?” he asked in a confused and hesitant manner. “...D-did you see all that, Tilly? Did you see what I saw?
“–– And my clocks! ...What could have happened to them? They’re not even wound up! And how could the grandfather clocks play music?!!”
“It’s all right Grumpy Jake, it’s all right,” Tilly said to him in a comforting manner. “Please don’t be so worried. I think we somehow got mixed up in a magic spell. I’m sure it hasn’t done us any harm.”
“…A magic spell...” Jake repeated vaguely.
“I think so. At first I thought I was dreaming, because this strange beam of moonlight came into my room and...” Tilly’s voice trailed off as she stood up and went to the window.
“Look Grandpa! It's the mirror on the back of Mr DaCosta’s ute! I can still see a bit of reflection from it. The moonlight must have been shining off that!
“...and then come through the two panes of glass,” she added to herself, as if following the beam of light, “…then between the curtains and across the room to ...”
Tilly turned about … and what she saw on her desk simply took her breath away.
“...Granddad!” She finally managed to say, “...Look at my little ballerina! It’s the Fairy Queen! It really is The Fairy Queen!”
It was, indeed.
Her wings were now the wings of some heavenly dragonfly. They were veined with the finest gilded wire, drawn over with a delicate gelatin membrane. Certainly no earthly dragonfly ever flew on wings so perfect.
Her dress was the sheerest gossamer silk, a seamless piece that fitted her perfectly and moved in the slightest breath of air. Alongside such a gown even the purest and whitest of snow would seem grey.
She stood tip-toe on a toadstool – all red with brilliant white spots – and balanced with her arms spread wide. Her golden wand was held aloft with regal poise, as if she were ready to once more cast her wonderful spell.
The music box, too, had been transformed by the magic – though, just like the Fairy Queen, Tilly could see it was the very same box.
Now it shone with its original gleaming beauty – all black and red enamel overlain with a filigree of gilded wire lace. The insides of both the case and the lid were lined with velvet of the deepest red, the texture of which would have shamed a rose. And all of the inside edges were finished with a row of the tiniest pearls.
With trembling hands Tilly lifted the music box and gently tried the lid. It was no longer stuck. And, as it began to close, the Fairy Queen’s wings folded down against her back. Then the toadstool on which she was standing moved smoothly sideways and together they tipped over to lie on the velvet – just as the lid clicked shut. It was almost as if she were resting.
Just then Tilly noticed something wondrous that the magic had revealed. On the closed lid she could now see the engraving – the one Mr DaCosta had been told was probably the maker’s name.
It most certainly was not the maker’s name, and wide eyed with wonder Tilly read out what the writing said – the words of which were now very clearly in English. “Presented to Ottilie Heymann”, she said, “by her loving Grandpapa, on the occasion of her tenth Birthday”.
Tilly’s Grandfather just stared in astonishment. “Dear heavens, Tilly,” he said faintly, “I can’t believe what I’m seeing ...”
He sat down on the edge of Tilly’s bed. After a while he said, “Did you know that your Great Grandmother’s maiden name was Ottilie Heymann? That’s nearly the same as yours.
“When you were born and your Mother told me what they were going to name you, I nearly fell over in surprise. I thought her marrying a man named Hayman was a big enough coincidence.
“When I was a young boy my mother often told me the story of how her family left Germany to come to Australia. She was only eleven at the time and they were hardly able to bring anything with them – just a couple of small suitcases and the clothes they wore.
“As small as her music box was, there was no room for it, so she resolved to carry it in her hand. This was, after all, her most treasured possession.
“And then, somewhere in the crowds and confusion before they boarded the ship, she dropped it – where, she had no idea. Her hands and fingers were numb with the terrible cold.
“‘Put it from your mind, Daughter,’ her father had sternly commanded, ‘and your childhood with it as well. We have many hardships before us.’
“But she never did forget, for she told me the story many times. And neither did she forget her dear Grandpapa.
“He died shortly after they left, you know. He claimed to be happy knowing of the opportunities in life she would have in a new land. But really, his poor old heart was broken. He knew he would never see his precious granddaughter again.
“Tilly. This – somehow – is the music box he gave her, all those years ago.”
“Dear Grandpa,” Tilly said quietly. “That’s what happens in the strange dream I sometimes have. The one where I’m going somewhere and I’ve lost something really precious … and I don’t want to go on without it.
“It’s always the same, Grandpa. It’s always a little box that I seem to have lost … but I never get to find out anything more.”
Jake smiled at her affectionately. “But my dear, how could you dream about something that happened so long ago; something you know nothing about? And how could that same music box have turned up in Australia? ...and then been so completely restored?
“I held it in my hands, you know. It was terribly corroded and damaged, Tilly, and I was completely unable to fix it – even just a bit. I couldn’t even get the lid to move.”
“Don’t worry about it so much, Grandpa,” said Tilly. “Your mother must have treasured it so much that it became enchanted. An enchanted music box.”
At the word ‘enchanted’ Jake remembered the fine lettering he had seen on the tiny gold plate - the engraving behind the stem of the toadstool which had endured all the moisture and corrosion
.
He took the music box from Tilly’s hand and pressed the little gold button to release the latch. As the lid opened, the Fairy Queen and the toadstool slid back into a standing position and her delicate wings unfolded.
Behind the base of the toadstool was a tiny gold plate which the velvet did not cover. And on it, as Jake expected, was the writing. He knew the engraving was too fine to read, so he excused himself for a minute – to go to his room for his watchmaker’s glass.
“You might be right about it being enchanted,” Jake said when he returned. “You see, Tilly; when I was trying to fix it I saw some writing in another place, writing that had not been ruined by moisture. But its lettering was so fine that I had to read it with my loupe ... like this.”
He put the magnifying glass to his eye, then held the music box up so the engraving caught the light.
Suddenly Jake’s heart beat faster, for there, as clearly as if the letters had been cut that very day, were the words he had previously read – except that now they were in plain English.
“Well Grampa, what does it say?” said Tilly, not realising that Jake was again having trouble speaking. “Please Grumpy Jake, please read it to me!”
“...It says,” Jake said in a shaky voice:
“‘When light from the fullest moon doth train,
Through doublet glass; from silvered pane;
Enchanted by the love you bring,
Then I shall turn again ... and sing.’”
“That’s it!” shouted Tilly.
The Enchanted Music Box Page 5