A Modernised Version Of Briony Tallis's 'The Trials Of Arabella' From Atonement by Ian McEwan
I guess I've always been a bit of a day-dreamer.
Of course, days upon months upon years of solitary life in a single grey room at the top of a grey tower probably contributed to that fact.
I had a certain fantasy that I would brood over for years. My name was Nadine. I was a typical teenager, the oh-my-gosh-that-guy-is-so-fit-and-crap-I've-lost-my-lippy teenager. I was decked out in the coolest teenager clothes - amber dresses, eggplant miniskirts, navy tracksuits… and I could hang out with my mates till any hour of the night. I had normal parents. A school. A boyfriend. A best friend. A puppy.
A life.
If anyone complains about not being a princess again, I will seriously punch them till I can fit them into a match box and carry them around.
And then I want that inch beaten with a pipe.
Stop laughing. Princess life is anything but funny. That must be why I ran away.
Funny story really. I'll tell you.
I'd been in that tower for as long as I could remember. The only people I'd ever seen were my parents, and the maids and servants, so life couldn't really get much more boring.
A Prince would come one day, my mother assured me, to rescue me. He'd sweep my off my feet, onto his horse and we'd ride into a sunset, have lots of children, rule a kingdom… the usual. I'd heard this story before but I'd question my mother about the guy till she turned blue, the poor woman.
Would he be handsome?
"Undoubtedly, dear. We won't let him in if he's not."
Would he hack through brambles and such to get to me, like Sleeping Beauty's prince?
"Good heavens no, your father just planted those rose bushes. Heaven help us if he crashes through them."
When would he come?
They had no answer for that one.
Years passed, and by the time I reached my seventeenth birthday I was pretty cheesed off that he hadn't come.
So I ran away.
I would become Nadine. I would marry a guy that I chose, not some kid on a pony claiming to "rescue" me. I don't need rescuing from anywhere.
And that was it. I packed a rucksack minimally, just the necessities - there would be time for other things later, and I had plenty of money - and tried to find something suitable to wear.
No such luck, however - all my clothes were dresses. So instead I did a Lara Croft impression and tore my black dress down the sides of the skirt, so I could at least move my legs. All my shoes were stilettos, so I abandoned them completely and went bare foot, resolving to buy some simple trainers on my way out of town.
As for my hair, that was all elaborately collected up in pleats on the top of my head, and anything spare flowed down my back like a shimmering golden river.
Much too inconvenient - I pulled it all lose and simply tied it back.
I was ready.
I didn't think I'd ever have a need for those princess-y dresses again, so I used them for my escape - I tied them all together to make a long, colourful rope that I attached to my bed post. Then I flung the other end out of the only window. I was pretty sure that my four poster bed could support my weight - I'd climbed up it many times as a girl (again another product of endless boredom) and it'd never broken. So I abseiled expertly down the tower wall, hoping my parents wouldn't see me.
No, wait, that's stupid. I wasn't worried. The King and Queen are too busy to notice their daughter. They wouldn't know I'd taken off until weeks, months even, if I'm lucky, and by that time I planned to be well away from them.
My first goal was to get out of the village. That was easy enough, I knew my way round here from maps I'd studied; I knew every entrance, every exit - and every secret escape. However, there was one flaw in my master plan (mistress plan, actually).
The Moat.
I couldn't get over it, I couldn't tunnel under it, and there's no way round it - so I had to do the only thing left to do. I went through it. I took off my rucksack and threw it over the moat, where it fell with a dull thud on the grass, then I dived in.
At least I knew how to swim.
So there I stood on the other side, drenched right down to my skin and shivering like a naked Eskimo, and quite literally spouting more water than the fountain in the palace courtyard.
But I'm no quitter. I dragged my aching legs all the way to the village boundaries, crossed the line between my village and the neighbouring one, and collapsed onto a nearby bench. I didn't need to see my reflection to know what I looked like. I knew my hair would be a tangled dirty yellow mess. I knew my sleek dress would look like an old rag I'd dragged from a bush. I knew my ankles would be smothered in sloppy mud, too, but I didn't care.
Why didn't I care? Firstly, this was it - I'd escaped! So long, terrible life.
And secondly, there were more pressing issues on my mind than mud right now. For example, I could heard footsteps approaching.
'Well, well, well! If it isn't the little Princess! What are you doing out here then, my lovely?'
Oh no.
Oh yes.
Oh damn.