Just One Window

The very first time I saw the tower, I hated it.

The whole idea was unreasonable. It was my worst birthday present ever – to get locked in a tower, in the middle of a forest, with no doors or windows except for a big one near the top.

'I don't see why I have to stay here,' I told Mother rebelliously, once we arrived. The tower didn't even look that interesting – all grey stone and faded lichen.

Mother – her real name's Grizelda Gothel, known to most as Dame Gothel – pursed her lips. 'I already told you, Rapunzel,' she said (and she had). 'It's for your safety. There are times when I can't always be with you and it's not safe for you to be by yourself without protection.'

Rapunzel. What a name. The name of a vegetable, of all things. I'd actually eaten rapunzel before – it grew in our garden – but never liked it. Once I asked Mother why she named me something so idiotic, and she just said I wouldn't have been born if it hadn't been for rapunzel. (What?)

'How are we going to get in?' I asked unhelpfully, idly twirling a loose strand of hair around my finger. My hair was waist-length and a ripe golden colour that shone in the sun. When I was younger, I used to think that if I hadn't been so pretty, Mother wouldn't have had to lock me up. Later I learnt that it wasn't so simple as all that.

By the look on Mother's face, she hadn't considered how to get inside the tower. But then she simply smiled and raised her arms, recited a spell and several gilt ropes spun out of the air, twisted themselves together and floated over to attach themselves to the high tower window. Mother was an enchantress. Some people thought she was evil because of her magic, but both she and I regarded it as dead useful.

A rope ladder. Brilliant.

'It's going to be awfully hard to climb that in skirts,' I said pointedly. Although I was only twelve, I wore long skirts that came past my knees.

Mother hissed in annoyance, and, to my horror, took my outer skirt and tucked it into my girdle, leaving my shorter, plainer petticoat exposed. 'Don't look so scandalised, Rapunzel, there's nobody here but us. Now climb,' she ordered.

Reluctantly, and feeling uncomfortably long and gangly in my doubled-up dress and thin petticoat, I climbed. Once I looked down to see Mother climbing up after me, managing to look dignified and graceful in spite of everything. I sighed.

Once we had both reached the top, the rope ladder disappeared, leaving us stranded.

'Mother!' I wailed. 'How are we going to get out again?'

I shouldn't have asked. Mother said nothing, just raked her thin fingers through my hair, and then I felt it growing longer – and heavier. I spun around just in time to see long coils of hair snaking all over the floor. 'What are you doing, Mother?'

Mother only grinned toothily. When my hair finally stopped growing, she slid her fingers through it again and this time it separated itself into three gold strands reminiscent of the magical rope ladder and wound them into a thick plait. Then Mother took the plait, wound it twice around a hook at the window, and dropped it out. It just reached the ground.

'That's how we get out again,' she said proudly. 'Or how I do, anyway. You, Rapunzel, are going to stay right here.'

'But Mother ...'

'We discussed this already, Rapunzel. Now, goodbye; I'll be back tonight.'

'But Mother ...'

She climbed out of the window, using my hair – my hair! – as a rope. 'Don't leave your hair hanging out the window; I'll call for you when I need it. You'll know because I'll say, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair" – how does that sound?' She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and disappeared out of sight. I watched her go in consternation.

'You're leaving me in prison! Some mother you are!'

She just smiled.

'And I don't even want long hair!' I screamed, but she just waved at me and blew a kiss on the wind.

I wanted to cry.