Eight
For John's eighth birthday, Amelia gave him a story she had written herself. It went:
Once upon a time there was a lonely lady. She was stolen away from her family by an evil witch when she was a baby, and hidden away in a tiny cottage in the middle of an enchanted forest. The witch knew that as soon as the young girl was married she would be free to leave the witch's home, which the witch wanted never to happen because she was lonely herself. She cooked up a plot for the girl to think that no man would want her, destroying every mirror in the house and locking the baby away inside. As the girl grew older she became so beautiful that whenever she looked up at a grey sky from the window of her prison, the sun would come out and shine like gold. But the witch told her she was so ugly that the clouds were running away in fear. She told her that she must always stay inside the house so that nobody would ever see her ugly face and laugh at her, and because there were no mirrors the girl never knew it was a lie. She couldn't love the witch as a mother, and one day she was so lonely that she bent over the sink where she was about to wash dishes and cried her heart out. She cried a deep puddle. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was her reflection on the water surface. Finally realising to her delight her true beauty, the lady ran out of the house to greet the world. Before long she met a wonderful young man and they fell in love. She never returned to the dark little cottage – she married the young man and lived with him in his big, fine house in the city for the rest of her life. As for the witch, she was very upset to find the lady gone, but soon she met an enormous toad who became her pet. And they all lived happily ever after. THE END.
John said it was the best fairytale he had ever read. Typical John.
When Amelia turned eight, Sharon took the trouble to throw her a birthday party. Amelia hated the idea, but as usual her aunt refused to listen.
"Can't I just have a birthday tea here with John?"
"Oh, don't be silly, Amelia. The party will be fun. Now, have you seen my camera?"
And so, on the fourth of March, Amelia found herself standing in their blue hallway, greeting guests and accepting presents. Almost every child in Leadworth was invited. John was one of the last to arrive.
"Wow, Amelia..." he gaped at her. She was wearing a flared silk dress of deep blue, with small puffed sleeves and a wide sash around the waist. An alice-band of the same material kept her normally wild red hair back from her face. She wore white tights, and on her feet were matching silk pumps. "Um...why are you laughing?"
Amelia stifled another giggle. "John, why are you wearing a bow tie?"
John looked hurt as he straightened his new accessory. "Bow ties are cool."
Amelia rolled her eyes, and he placed an olive green parcel in her hands. Waving her friend through to the living room, she put the package on the growing pile.
After a birthday tea of chicken sandwiches, fizzy pop and pink cake, they played an assortment of the tedious birthday games both Amelia and John had always despised; musical statues, musical chairs, pass the parcel, and finally blind man's buff. John was voted the blind man because "He hasn't even done anything yet," as the other children moaned.
Amelia watched him in sympathy as her aunt tied the acid yellow scarf around his eyes. They were playing in the garden to avoid damaging the furniture. Sharon spun John around and around until he had lost all sense of direction. When her hands left his shoulders he stumbled sideways, then forwards, then tripped over his own feet and fell on his hands and knees. Everyone save Amelia giggled at his indignity. Getting to his feet and taking a deep breath, John staggered towards the noise, extracting squeals of delight from the others as they scattered out of his way. Amelia felt no excitement - it was easy to avoid him as he lurched helplessly around the garden. This was not a fair game. The laughter of the party guests was beginning to sound cruel when John fell over the rusty swing and sprawled on the grass. Amelia frowned, and came to a decision.
When John stepped hesitantly forward, hands held in front of him like a zombie, somebody stepped straight in front of him. His hands tightened on their arms and his face held an expression of visible relief.
"Who's that?" he called into the darkness.
"Who d'you think?" hissed a Scottish accent.
Amelia ripped the scarf from his eyes. "Game's over," she announced. When the others whined, she said "I'm the birthday girl, and what I say goes."
"The mummies and daddies will be here shortly, anyway," put in Sharon.
After all the guests had left, John giving her a quick hug when nobody was looking, Amelia opened the presents. Most were items such as skipping ropes and hopscotch chalks, gifts from people who didn't really know her. Then she came to John's parcel. It was a very familiar shape. Amelia smiled – a book. Typical John.
She pulled at the blue ribbon and carefully unwrapped the parcel, making sure to save the green paper. The first thing she noticed about the book was the curly gold scripting of the title: The Fairytales of Hans Christian Anderson. And below the title was a picture of a beautiful woman, green-eyed and slender with pale skin dusted with freckles. Below her waist (quite unsurprisingly, seeing as she was underwater) was a deep blue fish tail. But it was her hair that drew Amelia's attention – it was fanned out around her head, the long wavy locks drifting in the water. On the crown of the woman's head sat a ring of pure white pearls, the colour of which contrasted strikingly with the shade of her hair: ginger. Bright, shining auburn. Judging by the pearls, Amelia decided, the mermaid must be a princess, the first red-headed princess she had ever seen. Usually their heads were golden or moonlight black. Amelia hugged the book to her chest, vowing mentally to treasure it forever. This was a book she could love, and John had known it. Typical John.
