Weddings and Wishes

by Stacy Gregg

  ‘But I’m here now!’ Petronella said. ‘Where is she? I want her!’

  ‘Ahhh yes,’ Eliza said. ‘Of course you do. And we’d bring her out too except—’

  ‘Except …’ Olivia added hastily, ‘except you’re not wearing your wedding dress!’

  Petronella glared at them both. ‘You two seem like quite a funny pair. You’re even dressed like court jesters!’

  Olivia looked at Eliza, who was wearing the clothes she had lent her, and at her own stripey top and dungarees. ‘Are we?’

  ‘You most certainly are,’ said Lady Petronella, sniffing. ‘Now tell me! Why should I be dressed in my wedding dress to look at a pony?’

  ‘Yes, Livvy,’ Eliza said. ‘Please explain that to all of us, will you?’

  Olivia gulped hard. She could feel her heart racing. ‘Because, Lady Petronella, surely you know it’s customary for royal brides-to-be to meet their pony in the bridal gown so that we can make sure that the dress matches the pony in exactly the same shade of white?’

  ‘Ooooh yes!’ Eliza hurried to agree. ‘To check the colour, of course! And also the length.’

  Petronella frowned. ‘The length?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Olivia jumped back in. ‘The dress must drape perfectly over the pony once you’re on board. I mean, you wouldn’t want the dress to be too long and drag on the ground, would you?’

  ‘No,’ Petronella admitted. ‘No, I suppose I wouldn’t want that. It would get grubby if it dragged, and I do so dislike things that are grubby.’

  ‘Exactly!’ Olivia said. ‘So, since you don’t have the dress with you this time, why don’t we reschedule? Perhaps the same time tomorrow? You bring the dress and we’ll have Sparkle all sorted and waiting for you.’

  Petronella frowned. ‘Are you fooling with me, little jester? I hope this isn’t a joke you’re playing on me because I don’t like jokes one bit!’

  ‘Oh no,’ Olivia said. ‘It’s not a joke.’

  ‘We are definitely not funny,’ Eliza added.

  ‘Good!’ Petronella said. ‘Because the last time someone played a joke on me, I took them to the castle and had them thrown in the dungeons! Didn’t I, Patrick?’

  ‘Er, yes, darling, you did,’ Prince Patrick agreed.

  ‘You don’t want to go in the dungeons, do you?’ Petronella said to the girls, the diamonds on her tiara twinkling like mad. ‘Because I can put you there with a snap of my fingers. Is that what you want?’

  Olivia gulped. ‘Not really.’

  Lady Petronella gave a tinkling laugh. ‘Didn’t think so!’ she trilled. And then she spun round and clicked her fingers. ‘Come on, Princey Pat. Let’s go and check on that dressmaker. I want see if my dress sleeves are puffy enough yet!’

  Hastily the trumpeters picked up their tune again and the footmen raced nervously up the red carpet, dropping rose petals ahead of Lady Petronella as she stomped back through the stables and out of the door.

  The prince watched her go and held back, dawdling for a moment.

  ‘She’s in a bit of a mood today,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Mind you, she’s in a bit of a mood most days.’

  ‘Have you been engaged for long?’ Olivia asked him.

  ‘Only a couple of weeks,’ Patrick admitted. ‘My parents – the king and queen – said it was time for a royal wedding, and Lady Petronella is the perfect almost-princess to be my bride.’

  ‘She certainly does seem to have some … unique qualities!’ Eliza tried to be positive. ‘And I suppose you both have lots in common?’

  ‘Not really,’ Prince Patrick said. ‘She mostly likes shouting and putting people in the dungeons and I like sword fighting with my friends and sailing boats and riding horses.’

  ‘Oh, I love all those things too!’ Eliza said. ‘Do you know I once sailed all the way to Spain? And I can outride almost any boy and I’m particularly good at sword fighting.’

  ‘Really?’ Prince Patrick smiled at her. ‘How nice to meet a girl who likes the things that I like too! We should get together some time and go riding and have a sword fight and a picnic afterwards!’

  ‘A picnic! That would be lovely,’ Eliza said. ‘How about—’

  ‘Patrick!’

  Lady Petronella was standing in the doorway with a face like thunder.

  ‘Don’t make me come back in there,’ she growled, ‘or you’ll be in the dungeons too!’

  Prince Patrick gulped. ‘Coming straight away, my beloved!’

  And with a regal wave farewell he bolted up the red carpet and out of the door and in a swirl of magic mist he was gone.

  Olivia woke up in a surprisingly sunny mood despite the setbacks of the day before. At least they’d managed to convince Lady Petronella to give Sparkle a second visit and Olivia felt positive that once they sat Sparkle down and explained to the poor Spellbound pony that the witch’s spell was making her so very messy, she would certainly agree to have a bath.

  ‘It’s perfect pony-washing weather!’ Olivia hummed to herself as she banged along the lane with her water buckets filled with sponges and soap. She slid open the front door of the stables and stepped into the gloomy corridor. ‘Eliza? Are you here yet?’

  In the darkness Eliza suddenly appeared beside her in a poof.

  ‘Eek!’ Olivia jumped in fright.

  ‘Sorry!’ Eliza giggled. She looked at the wash-up stuff Olivia had brought with her. ‘Gosh, you look ready for business!’

  ‘It’s Mum’s car-cleaning kit,’ Olivia said. ‘I thought we could use it to scrub up Sparkle.’

  ‘Perhaps let’s keep the buckets hidden behind our backs at first so as not to scare her?’ Eliza cautioned. ‘After all, we don’t want her to disappear on us again!’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Olivia said, ‘I’m sure when we explain the witch’s spell then Sparkle will be willing to help us and … Hey! What’s that music?’

  ‘Oh!’ Eliza said. ‘You can hear it too? I thought it was just me! I often have a tune in my head.’

  ‘A tune?’ Olivia boggled. ‘Eliza, it’s more than a tune! It’s like there’s a disco in there!’

  It was true; the drum ’n’ bass rhythm was pumping with a thumping beat and there were high-pitched whistles and noisy shrieks.

  Olivia opened the stall door and immediately a thick blanket of spooky mist rolled out and completely engulfed the entire corridor.

  ‘Oh no!’ Eliza cried. ‘Enchanted mist!’

  Olivia coughed as a gust of the mist went up her nose. ‘Gah! Eliza, I don’t think it is enchanted mist. I’ve smelled this before at the school disco. I think it’s coming from a smoke machine!’

  Sure enough, just at that moment, the mist cleared a little and Olivia and Eliza could see inside Sparkle’s stall where there was indeed a machine pumping out smoke. A glittering mirror ball was strung from the ceiling and a flashing whirl of brilliant coloured strobe lights was bouncing off the walls.

  Olivia was stunned. ‘It’s exactly like a school disco!’

  And standing in the middle of the dance floor, all dressed in a rainbow-coloured disco suit that stretched as tight as a drum across his rotund tum, was Horace the Hunt Master.

  ‘Why, it’s the girls!’ Horace boomed over the disco beats.

  ‘Horace?’ Olivia couldn’t believe it. The hunt master had been a friend of Lady Luella’s and usually appeared when he wanted to keep the ponies trapped by their spell but he normally wore a red huntsman jacket and jodhpurs, not a disco dancer’s leotard.

  ‘It’s definitely him,’ Eliza confirmed. ‘Look! You can tell by the way his head is boing-boinging in time to the music!’

  Horace the Hunt Master had broken his neck in that famous, fateful hunting accident two hundred years ago and had never forgiven Eliza for what happened that day. As revenge he was determined to do whatever he could to keep the ponies spellbound forever. Unfortunately for the girls he had ways of keeping the poor gullible ponies in his thrall.

  ‘Horace!’ Olivia had to shou
t to be heard over the music. ‘Where’s Sparkle? What have you done with her?’

  The hunt master wiggled his chubby fingers. ‘Hands are for helping and I’ve been busy giving Sparkle the most magical makeover. Sparkle? Come on out, my dancing queen!’ he called into the smoke.

  Through the mist a monstrous sticky heap shambled into the glare of the disco lights, all shiny and globby, covered in rainbow glitter.

  ‘Hey, babes!’ the glitter glob trilled. ‘Sparkle’s a disco diva!’

  ‘Sparkle! Ewwww!’ Olivia grimaced. ‘You’re still covered in mucky wet mud and now you’ve added glitter!’

  Horace chortled. ‘Sparkle didn’t want to wash, did you, sweets? So we just covered the mud in glue and then I launched glitter bombs at her!’

  ‘The bombs did tickle a bit when they hit,’ Sparkle burbled, ‘but it was worth it. Sparkle’s gorgey-porgey now!’

  ‘I bedazzled her,’ Horace confirmed.

  ‘You mean you bewitched her!’ Olivia snapped back at him. ‘You want her to fail and stay messy forever.’

  Horace giggled with glee. ‘Of course I do!’

  ‘Sparkle,’ Olivia groaned, ‘you’re still messy and dirty. You’ll never get chosen for the royal wedding procession looking like this! You have to let us wash you and start again before it’s too late!’

  ‘It’s already too late.’ A cut-glass voice stabbed through the stables and the music instantly died.

  Lady Petronella was standing in the doorway wearing her wedding dress. A nervous Prince Patrick was trembling at her side.

  ‘This … this monstrosity is supposed to be my pony?’ Petronella fumed. ‘It looks like last year’s unwanted Christmas tree!’

  ‘Please, Your Almost Royalness. Truly, underneath it all, Sparkle’s lovely,’ Olivia pleaded, ‘and she wants more than anything to be your wedding pony.’

  ‘It’s true, princess, babes!’ Sparkle said. ‘I do, I do.’

  Petronella snorted. ‘Me? On top of that beastly glitter dingbat? It would ruin MY SPECIAL DAY!’

  ‘Uhhh,’ Prince Patrick piped up, ‘isn’t it actually our wedding day, my beloved? I’m not being pushy but I just wonder if you’re being a little harsh and—’

  ‘Oh, shut up, Patrick!’ Petronella barked. ‘Make yourself useful and grab my train before it gets muddy! I’ve had enough of this. I’m leaving!’

  ‘Petronella, please,’ Eliza begged. ‘I know this looks bad but it’s all Horace’s fault and if Sparkle doesn’t take part in the royal wedding then she’ll never be free of the curse and the ponies will stay spellbound for all eternity!’

  ‘Ha!’ Petronella laughed. ‘Whatever spell your pony is under is none of my affair! Let them stay cursed, I say!’

  Now sitting at the back of the stables on a hay bale, Horace gave a particularly nasty chortle at this. ‘Oooh, princess-to-be, not even a wicked queen could be so mean!’ He clapped his chubby hands in glee. ‘I really do like you!’

  Petronella glared at him and gave a haughty flick of her long blonde hair before she returned her attention to Sparkle. ‘As for you,’ she sniped, ‘you stupid, whinnying mud heap, you are absolutely, positively off my wedding list – FOREVER!’

  And, with Prince Patrick scurrying behind clutching her train, Lady Petronella stormed out. In her wake the haunting wicked laughter of Horace the Hunt Master filled the air along with the disco smoke, ringing until the last vapours were gone.

  There was silence in the stables and then a whimpering, and soon the sounds of great heaving sobs filled the entire stables. The sobs were coming from the mud heap.

  ‘Sparkle?’ Olivia said. ‘Oooh no! Please don’t cry!’

  ‘Boohoo-hoo!’ Sparkle began to wail. ‘Oh, Livvy and Eliza! All Sparkle ever wanted was to walk the bride down the aisle on a happy wedding day! And now I’ve gone and ruined everything!’

  ‘Poor, poor pony!’ Olivia raced to her side to comfort her, but through the mud and glitter she couldn’t tell which bit of Sparkle she was supposed to pat. She took a guess and placed her hand gently on what she hoped was her neck. ‘There, there. You mustn’t blame yourself. It was that awful Horace.’

  ‘He’s very tricky,’ Eliza agreed, ‘but if Sparkle remains trapped by the witch’s curse forever, what about the other ponies? We have to save them one by one – and if Sparkle stays stuck then surely the curse remains and the others will be stuck too?’

  Sparkle sobbed even harder. ‘Oh no! You mean all the other poor ponies will never be free because of me?’

  Olivia was gobsmacked. ‘Eliza! Now look what you’ve done!’

  ‘Oops,’ Eliza said. ‘I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to upset you, Sparkle. Please stop crying!’

  But Sparkle couldn’t stop crying. She was wailing like mad and, with each sob, massive hot tears ran down her face. As they coursed down her muzzle they created a miniature mudslide and the gunk and the glitter began to wash away.

  ‘Boohoo-hoo!’ Sparkle’s tears had become a fountain and Olivia began to see streaks of snow-white fur beneath the caked-on mud and glitter.

  ‘Please stop crying, Sparkle!’ Eliza said.

  ‘No!’ Olivia shrieked. ‘Don’t stop crying! Keep crying!’

  ‘What?’ Sparkle croaked. ‘You want me to cry? Livvy, babes, that’s a bit mean!’

  ‘I’m not being mean!’ Olivia raced into Sparkle’s stall and came back with a mirror. She showed the weeping pony her reflection. ‘Look, Sparkle! Underneath the mud, where the tears have been, I can see you!’

  Sparkle looked in the mirror. ‘Oh, I see!’ she exclaimed. ‘Yes! That’s me! That’s how I used to be!’

  Olivia dashed away again and this time came back with a halter. Her eyes were shining with excitement. ‘Sparkle! I think we can fix it. You’re going to be in that wedding after all!’

  ‘I am?’ Sparkle sniffled. ‘Really and truly? You’re not just saying that to stop me being sad?’

  ‘Really and truly,’ Olivia said. ‘Don’t you see, Sparkle? Beneath all that mud you look totally different. You’re a stunning pure-white pony.’

  ‘Ooooh!’ Eliza was getting the idea too. ‘So if we were to take all the mud off and get you clean, then the princess-to-be wouldn’t even recognise you!’

  ‘That’s right!’ agreed Olivia. ‘She would think you were a different pony entirely.’

  ‘So she could still choose me!’ Sparkle had grasped the plan too. ‘But, babes, Sparkle can’t keep on crying forever!’ she said. ‘There’s not enough tears inside to get all this mud and glitter off me!’

  ‘We don’t have to use tears,’ Olivia said. ‘We could use soap and water as well.’ Olivia paused to let her words sink in.

  ‘Soap and water?’ Sparkle began to tremble. ‘You mean … a bath?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Olivia confirmed.

  Sparkle looked terrified and Olivia was tempted to hold on to the halter in case she tried to bolt, but she knew it was no use. She could never hold a Spellbound pony against its will.

  ‘It’s up to you, Sparkle. Will you do it?’

  Sparkle gave a high-pitched whinny followed by a very determined neigh. ‘Livvy, babes! Take me to the wash bay! This is going to be the day Sparkle comes clean!’

  In the wash bay Olivia rolled up her sleeves, stuck on her wellies and began to hose. And hose. And hose.

  ‘The mud and the glitter are so gooey and thick!’ Olivia grumbled as she scrubbed hard with her sponges.

  ‘But look! It’s working!’ Eliza said cheerfully from the side. ‘I’d love to help you, of course, but …’ She reached for a sponge and her fingers went straight through it as if it were made of mist!

  ‘It’s okay,’ Olivia said to her best friend. ‘I know you’d help if you could. It’s not your fault that ghosts can’t touch stuff and—’

  ‘Oh!’ Eliza gasped. ‘Oh, Livvy! I can see her! I can see Sparkle!’

  The mud had slid off in great chunks like an avalanche on a mountain
slope, and beneath all the grime and grit there indeed was Sparkle – her gleaming white coat as pure as winter snow.

  ‘Sparkle!’ Olivia was excited now too. ‘Oooh yes!’

  ‘Keep going, babes!’ Sparkle trilled. ‘I’m feeling more like myself every minute!’

  Olivia worked tirelessly, scrubbing until her arms were sore, and then hosing again until at last the mud heap was entirely gone and in its place stood a stunning white pony.

  Olivia stood back with Eliza to assess her hard work. ‘Oh my sweet potatoes!’

  Sparkle gave her silky mane a shake and she swished her stark white tail. ‘Do I look all right then, babes?’ she asked anxiously. ‘I feel naked. I’ve been caked under all that mud for a long time.’

  ‘Sparkle,’ Olivia said, ‘I think you need to see for yourself.’

  Olivia lugged the mirror all the way to the wash bay and propped it up against the wall.

  Sparkle was shaking. She had her eyes shut tight. ‘Oooh, I can’t look! I’m scared.’

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ Olivia said soothingly. ‘Open your eyes, Sparkle, and trust me.’

  Sparkle opened her eyes.

  ‘You see?’ Olivia breathed. ‘Sparkle, you are the most beautiful pony I have ever seen.’

  It was true. Sparkle was stunning. Her coat, which was exactly the same shade of white as a wedding gown, was glossy and pure. Her mane, which flowed down over her shoulders, was silken like spun silver. Her tail trailed out behind her like a bridal veil.

  ‘Oh, babes!’ Sparkle said. And she burst into tears.

  ‘Sparkle’s crying again!’ Eliza was shocked.

  ‘Yes –’ Olivia beamed – ‘but this time they’re tears of joy.’

  ‘Oh, it’s true, babes! Boohoo, boohoo!’ Sparkle wept. ‘Oh, Livvy and Eliza, you’ve made me the happiest pony in the world.’

  Olivia was realising just how exhausting washing a pony could be. ‘I think that will do for today, Sparkle,’ she said, collapsing. ‘I’m so tired, and it seems like most of the mud from you has somehow ended up on me!