Even Grimmer Tales by Valerie Volk Page B

penniless,
    two daughters with no looks –
    slim chance of getting rid of them!
    He seemed ideal. Thought for sure
    he’d be protective, caring,
    he’d look after me.
    He told me that he had a daughter,
    said he loved her very much.
    He didn’t say how much.
    Somehow that bit is never mentioned
    when the story gets retold.
    They tell you that she loved her daddy,
    and what a rotten bitch I was.
    That’s what they say. They leave out
    how I tried to make the whole thing work.
    They make it sound as if she was exploited.
    Stuck inside the kitchen,
    slave for everyone. While my girls –
    this is what they tell you – swanned round
    and treated her like dirt.
    Not how it really was.
    A clever little minx, that one.
    Piteous looks for Daddy
    and quick to cuddle up to him.
    Often made me feel a little odd,
    especially when I saw
    just how he looked at her.
    Yes, daddy loved his daughter.
    Separate bedrooms for us? Not a worry.
    I thought it was considerate,
    given how he snored. Though I’d admit
    I’d looked for something different
    when I said yes, I’d marry him.
    â€œI need a wife,” he told me.
    Fool that I was, I didn’t hear
    exactly what he wanted. And she,
    I saw how she played up to him.
    Creaking stairs when he went down
    so many nights
    to get his midnight glass of milk –
    it took some time …
    Her little room was off the kitchen.
    That’s how the story started, I suppose,
    how badly she was treated.
    Balls and princes – all that silly talk!
    As for the story
    that I stopped her going out!
    Me stop her
    doing anything she wanted!
    He couldn’t bear the thought that other men
    might want her. That’s the truth of it.
    He locked the doors, and took away
    the pretty clothes he’d lavished on her …
    (Dressed in rags? Now that’s a laugh!
    The ones who wore the hand-me-downs
    were my poor girls. No wonder
    Ruby and Priscilla tried to pay her back.
    But daddy always took her side.
    They didn’t stand a chance!)
    â€œFor your own good,” he told her
    as he shut her in.
    â€œI just want daddy’s little girl to stay
    the same sweet innocent she is.”
    I wouldn’t call what she was ‘innocent.’
    She’d learned a thing or two from him.
    Time to act – and she was eager.
    â€œFind yourself a prince!’ I said. “I’ll help.”
    Not hard to find the key and organize a taxi,
    find her some pretty clothes, and warn
    â€œMake sure that you get back in time,
    before his meeting ends and he gets home,”
    I’d love to know what story teller
    invented midnight as the time.
    I’d told her 10 pm.
    The first few nights we managed it all right,
    and she was properly grateful.
    Said I was her fairy godmother. We’d made
    a sort of peace between us by that time.
    New life for her –
    maybe for me too …
    She found her prince, of course.
    A nice young man;
    a salesman in a shoe shop in the town.
    They met one day when she sneaked out,
    (a little help from me) to buy some dancing shoes.
    I guess that might explain how later on
    the story got re-told.
    They left together,
    and her name’s not mentioned in the house
    these days. Our lives have been much quieter.
    The place is still at night.
    The stairs don’t creak.
    It makes me feel a bit queer, though,
    when often in the middle of the night,
    his bedroom door clicks shut – it has a real
    distinctive sound –
    then I hear the footsteps pause …
    outside what would be Ruby’s door.

Sleeping Beauty (Briar Rose)
    At the christening of a long-awaited baby princess, all the invited fairies offer gifts. But hosts really must check a guest list very carefully; there’s a danger if it causes offence! One fairy, angry at being left out, gate-crashes the party and brings an unwanted gift – one day the princess will die after pricking her finger on a needle. This fate is altered by a final gift from