Even Grimmer Tales by Valerie Volk Page A

was a wise old bird. “Good looks,”
    he’d say, “are dangerous. You’re lucky,
    Princess, ’cos you’ve got it all.
    Not only beauty, but good sense,
    and being Daddy’s only child
    won’t be a disadvantage either.
    So take care.”
    I did, and anyway,
    I always liked the plainer ones.
    They often seemed to have
    much more to offer. I guess
    because they knew they weren’t
    god’s gift to women, so saw themselves
    as offering much less. In looks, at least.
    I specially liked the one
    they all called ‘Frog.’ He knew
    that he was downright ugly,
    but didn’t let it worry him.
    I liked that.
    He’d never look at me,
    just turn away, and blush.
    OK. That got me in, and I will be
    the first one to admit it.
    It piqued me, so I chased him.
    Pursued him quite relentlessly,
    and caught him. We were married.
    Daddy was approving. “Looks – ”
    he said it many times to me,
    â€œ – they’re not reliable. I’m glad
    you’ve learned that lesson.”
    So Frog and I were happy for a time,
    until he started to look round
    and realise he didn’t have to look
    the way he did. I loved him,
    so I really didn’t feel at all uneasy
    about the money all those doctors
    charged us.
    And they were worth it.
    Boy, the changes that they made.
    Those plastic surgeons have so much
    to answer for. They do a lot of damage!
    I will admit it may not be intended.
    You often see him now; his photo’s
    in the social pages most weekends.
    A different model’s on his arm
    each time.
    He’s not called ‘Frog’
    these days. They’ve nicknamed him
    â€˜The Prince.’ We haven’t seen each other
    for a while. He did quite well
    out of our breaking up. I don’t regret
    the money that it cost.
    What saddens me
    is what it did to Dad. These days
    he doesn’t have so much to say;
    he looks a bit confused.
    He’s lost his certainty,
    and ‘Looks aren’t everything!” is not
    a phrase you hear around our house.
    Worst of it is the palace pool is empty.
    He could at least have given us
    some tadpoles for the future …

Cinderella
    A widower with one beautiful child marries a proud and arrogant woman with two far less prepossessing daughters. These jealous maidens oppress and persecute their new step-sister, who is forced to do all the housework and live among the cinders in the kitchen. On the night of the Prince’s ball, Cinderella is left at home, but her dreams are fulfilled when a fairy godmother appears and transforms the girl’s rags into a haute couture ball gown. This wonder woman sends Cinderella to the ball in a coach created from a pumpkin (modern transport authorities might well envy this ability) and driven by coachman and horses made from the kitchen creatures that the girl has befriended. She and the Prince are so entranced with each other that she forgets the requirement to leave the ball before the enchantment ends at midnight. When the clock strikes she returns to her rags as she flees, but leaves behind a glass slipper on the palace steps. Although all through the kingdom hopeful girls, including the wicked stepsisters, try to cram their feet into the glass slipper, the prince searches until he finds the girl whose foot fits the object, to be his beloved. They live happily ever after, and we all learn the adage: If the shoe fits, wear it!



The taste of cinders
    I get annoyed the way the whole world seems
    to overlook what it was like for me.
    I married him in good faith
    expecting what a woman always hopes for:
    to be at least of some importance in his life.
    Mind you, the girls warned me. “Are you quite sure – ”
    Priscilla’s always been a cautious one,
    â€œare you quite sure that he is really
    what he seems?”
    Me, I’m the trusting sort.
    Plus, desperation’s setting in.
    That sick sense of unease
    when money matters loomed.
    Solo, widow,