achieving, Cinderella’s father finally slammed his hand down on the table and stood up.
‘If this life is so bloody terrible, Esme, why did you choose it? It was love that mattered then? Don’t you love me now?’
Cinderella and Rose both shrank down in their chairs. Their parents didn’t argue. They didn’t appear to have much in common, but they never fought.
‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ Wine spilled from her glass as Esme looked up. ‘This isn’t about love, this is about life! Ever since Ivy married that idiot Viscount—’
‘He’s not an idiot. If you took time to talk to him—’
‘He’s an idiot. He doesn’t even go to court. But having been back to the castle and remembered what my life used to be like—’
‘You hated it. You said it was shallow. You ran away from it, Esme, don’t you remember? You were married to a man you loathed because of that life? You slept with that randy old bastard for five long years, every night of which you hated. That’s what that life gave you!’
The two young women were forgotten in the heat of the fight, but Cinderella wished she could just slide down to the floor and crawl away. Worse still was the thought that this was all her fault. She still clung to her bubble of joy over her time at the castle but she’d been so focused on chasing what she’d wanted she hadn’t considered the fallout.
‘Yes, but if Rose had married the prince then I could have had the best of that life and you. I’m tired of all those people sniggering at us – at me . I’m tired of being poor. I’m tired of being cold. Don’t you understand it?’
‘I understand that. And I’m trying hard. But you can’t have everything in life, it doesn’t work that way. You have to decide what the important parts are.’ The fight went out of Cinderella’s father. ‘The thing I don’t understand anymore is you.’ He turned his back on them and left the room. No one spoke after that.
In the morning, Rose and Cinderella cleared away the breakfast things and were doing the washing up, the two working slowly together in the relative safety of the basement room.
‘Don’t you have to take care of your hands?’ Cinderella asked, as Rose scrubbed at a roasting tin. The other girl let out a short bitter bark of laughter.
‘I don’t think the softness of my skin matters anymore. Not to mother, anyway.’
‘There’ll be other balls.’ Cinderella felt a surprising wave of affection for her step-sister. Rose had always been the practical one. The clever one. Rose did not cry or get over-emotional. Not even when they’d been children.
‘You don’t get it, Cinderella.’ Rose sighed, tired. ‘You never do. If the prince had just danced with me once, like the other girls, or not even danced with me at all, then that would have been okay. But I’m now the girl who wasn’t good enough. I’m the discarded one.’ She put the dish down and leaned on the side of the sink as if she didn’t have the energy to stand. ‘Even after that other girl ran off the prince didn’t want anything to do with me. Mother made me try and talk to him and he brushed me off. In front of everyone , as if I suddenly disgusted him.’
Tears, always so close, welled up in her eyes. ‘Now none of the other noblemen will come near me. I’ve made everything worse. All that effort mother put in to get me ready for the ball and it’s come to nothing.’ She sniffed hard. ‘She’s going through the change and I think this on top of that has driven her a bit mad. I think she’s driving me mad.’
Cinderella’s eyes fell away from her step-sister’s. She had been so happy that night. She and the prince were meant to be, she was sure of it. Whenever she closed the door of her room and looked at his picture, she was transported back to the wonders of the ball, and his arms around her and his kiss . . . and she fantasised about him finding her and all being as her fairy godmother promised and life
‘If this life is so bloody terrible, Esme, why did you choose it? It was love that mattered then? Don’t you love me now?’
Cinderella and Rose both shrank down in their chairs. Their parents didn’t argue. They didn’t appear to have much in common, but they never fought.
‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ Wine spilled from her glass as Esme looked up. ‘This isn’t about love, this is about life! Ever since Ivy married that idiot Viscount—’
‘He’s not an idiot. If you took time to talk to him—’
‘He’s an idiot. He doesn’t even go to court. But having been back to the castle and remembered what my life used to be like—’
‘You hated it. You said it was shallow. You ran away from it, Esme, don’t you remember? You were married to a man you loathed because of that life? You slept with that randy old bastard for five long years, every night of which you hated. That’s what that life gave you!’
The two young women were forgotten in the heat of the fight, but Cinderella wished she could just slide down to the floor and crawl away. Worse still was the thought that this was all her fault. She still clung to her bubble of joy over her time at the castle but she’d been so focused on chasing what she’d wanted she hadn’t considered the fallout.
‘Yes, but if Rose had married the prince then I could have had the best of that life and you. I’m tired of all those people sniggering at us – at me . I’m tired of being poor. I’m tired of being cold. Don’t you understand it?’
‘I understand that. And I’m trying hard. But you can’t have everything in life, it doesn’t work that way. You have to decide what the important parts are.’ The fight went out of Cinderella’s father. ‘The thing I don’t understand anymore is you.’ He turned his back on them and left the room. No one spoke after that.
In the morning, Rose and Cinderella cleared away the breakfast things and were doing the washing up, the two working slowly together in the relative safety of the basement room.
‘Don’t you have to take care of your hands?’ Cinderella asked, as Rose scrubbed at a roasting tin. The other girl let out a short bitter bark of laughter.
‘I don’t think the softness of my skin matters anymore. Not to mother, anyway.’
‘There’ll be other balls.’ Cinderella felt a surprising wave of affection for her step-sister. Rose had always been the practical one. The clever one. Rose did not cry or get over-emotional. Not even when they’d been children.
‘You don’t get it, Cinderella.’ Rose sighed, tired. ‘You never do. If the prince had just danced with me once, like the other girls, or not even danced with me at all, then that would have been okay. But I’m now the girl who wasn’t good enough. I’m the discarded one.’ She put the dish down and leaned on the side of the sink as if she didn’t have the energy to stand. ‘Even after that other girl ran off the prince didn’t want anything to do with me. Mother made me try and talk to him and he brushed me off. In front of everyone , as if I suddenly disgusted him.’
Tears, always so close, welled up in her eyes. ‘Now none of the other noblemen will come near me. I’ve made everything worse. All that effort mother put in to get me ready for the ball and it’s come to nothing.’ She sniffed hard. ‘She’s going through the change and I think this on top of that has driven her a bit mad. I think she’s driving me mad.’
Cinderella’s eyes fell away from her step-sister’s. She had been so happy that night. She and the prince were meant to be, she was sure of it. Whenever she closed the door of her room and looked at his picture, she was transported back to the wonders of the ball, and his arms around her and his kiss . . . and she fantasised about him finding her and all being as her fairy godmother promised and life
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