CINDERELLA (An exercise to bring a fairy story up to date)
She knew which side her bread was buttered on. Had done ever since they’d arrived three years ago. Always would now. It wouldn’t pay to change, even though she knew she did more than her share. If she wanted a life then she had to do whatever they asked, even if it meant buttering her own bread, and theirs as well.
It hadn’t been like that before. She’d been a happy little girl. Spoilt, she knew, but then there wasn’t anyone else for her parents to spoil was there? She’d enjoyed doing everything with her mum, even housework. It’d seemed like fun then. Baking, cooking, hoovering, even doing the ironing had been a pleasure not a pain. Not any more. Not now there were three girls. She couldn’t blame her dad, though she knew, and he knew, that it wouldn’t have been her choice. She’d have preferred to have him to herself, to have looked after him like her mum used to.
She was fifteen now though she looked older. She knew the other two resented her. She was the one who got the admiring looks on the rare occasions they went out together. They didn’t have much to do with her most of the time. They had each other, didn’t they? Why should they need her? The only thing they did seem to need her for was chores. They were chores now, not cheery, companionable hours spent keeping the house in order with her mum.
She didn’t mind her new mum, though she could never call her that, despite her father’s efforts to make her. She wasn’t her mum. Her real mum had gone, and would never come back. No one could replace her. Her stepmother was OK, it was the girls. They were not much older than Sharon: eleven months and twenty two months respectively to be exact, but they thought they were much more sophisticated than their new sister. And because they were older, they were given more freedom than Sharon and got away with things that she didn’t. She knew they sometimes didn’t make their own beds, nor clean their own shoes, or always do their own ironing. But Sharon was expected to do all hers, and some of theirs. That was one of the rules. She was allowed out as long as she did her chores. Rules seemed to be bent for the others. Not for Sharon.
Scarlett and Joanna loved going out, and so did Sharon. That’s what caused the problem. Her dad and stepmother did allow her out, even to have sleepovers at other girls’ houses sometimes. But they took her, they fetched her back, and woe betide her if she was late. It was another rule that didn’t always apply to Sharon's step-sisters. “You must always be ready when we come to pick you up, young lady,” her stepmother had told her the first time she’d been allowed out. “Nine o’clock is really too late for someone as young as you, so make sure you’re ready and waiting when your dad gets to the house.”
She’d been twelve then and other girls in her class were allowed out much later. But she knew that if she wasn’t ready on time, she wouldn’t be allowed to stay out again. So, for the next three years, whenever she’d been to a friend's she had made sure she was ready, coat on if she’d taken one, standing by the door. Her dad was proud of her.
“You never let us down, Sharon. You’re a good kid. Some of the other parents have trouble getting their children out at all, never mind on time. Thanks for being such a good ‘un.”
Things began to change when Sharon's best friend, Karen, had a party to celebrate her sixteenth birthday.
“Please let me stay out later this time, dad,” Sharon pleaded. “It is a special occasion and you know Karen’s my best friend. Her mum and dad will be there all the time so you won’t need to worry about us. No alcohol and no smoking they’ve said.”
Joanna laughed. "We've all heard that one before, haven't we Scarlett?" - she said to her sister. "Someone always manages to sneak some in somehow, whatever the parents say. I've heard some of Karen's friends talking about it at school."
She turned to her mother. "You shouldn't let her go, mum. She'll get drunk."
Sharon gave her a look but Joanna hadn’t finished.
“Then there’s that boy that fancies you, Sharon. Gareth Thomas, he’ll be there. I think I know what sort of party games he’d like to play with you. We’ve heard about him, too, haven’t we Scarlett?’
It was another rhetorical question. Scarlett just nodded.
Sharon’s dad looked at his wife.
“We’ll think about it, won’t we Rachel? Maybe talk to Karen’s mum and dad.”
Later, Sharon couldn’t believe her luck when her dad told her she could go to Karen's party, and she could stay until midnight, but the usual routine must be followed.
“Be sure you’re ready when I come to pick you up at twelve,” Dad said.
Sharon's step-sisters were right. There was booze, and there was Gareth Thomas. She liked them both. Even though she’d given herself a talking to before she’d left home, she couldn’t resist when Karen offered her gin from a sparkling water bottle. Nor could she resist when Gareth began to chat her up. She completely forgot about the time. It had become more than a chat when she suddenly caught sight of his watch.
“Oh no, it’s ten past twelve!” She extricated herself from Gareth and flew to the front door, losing her left shoe in her haste.
She knew which side her bread was buttered on. Had done ever since they’d arrived three years ago. Always would now. It wouldn’t pay to change, even though she knew she did more than her share. If she wanted a life then she had to do whatever they asked, even if it meant buttering her own bread, and theirs as well.
It hadn’t been like that before. She’d been a happy little girl. Spoilt, she knew, but then there wasn’t anyone else for her parents to spoil was there? She’d enjoyed doing everything with her mum, even housework. It’d seemed like fun then. Baking, cooking, hoovering, even doing the ironing had been a pleasure not a pain. Not any more. Not now there were three girls. She couldn’t blame her dad, though she knew, and he knew, that it wouldn’t have been her choice. She’d have preferred to have him to herself, to have looked after him like her mum used to.
She was fifteen now though she looked older. She knew the other two resented her. She was the one who got the admiring looks on the rare occasions they went out together. They didn’t have much to do with her most of the time. They had each other, didn’t they? Why should they need her? The only thing they did seem to need her for was chores. They were chores now, not cheery, companionable hours spent keeping the house in order with her mum.
She didn’t mind her new mum, though she could never call her that, despite her father’s efforts to make her. She wasn’t her mum. Her real mum had gone, and would never come back. No one could replace her. Her stepmother was OK, it was the girls. They were not much older than Sharon: eleven months and twenty two months respectively to be exact, but they thought they were much more sophisticated than their new sister. And because they were older, they were given more freedom than Sharon and got away with things that she didn’t. She knew they sometimes didn’t make their own beds, nor clean their own shoes, or always do their own ironing. But Sharon was expected to do all hers, and some of theirs. That was one of the rules. She was allowed out as long as she did her chores. Rules seemed to be bent for the others. Not for Sharon.
Scarlett and Joanna loved going out, and so did Sharon. That’s what caused the problem. Her dad and stepmother did allow her out, even to have sleepovers at other girls’ houses sometimes. But they took her, they fetched her back, and woe betide her if she was late. It was another rule that didn’t always apply to Sharon's step-sisters. “You must always be ready when we come to pick you up, young lady,” her stepmother had told her the first time she’d been allowed out. “Nine o’clock is really too late for someone as young as you, so make sure you’re ready and waiting when your dad gets to the house.”
She’d been twelve then and other girls in her class were allowed out much later. But she knew that if she wasn’t ready on time, she wouldn’t be allowed to stay out again. So, for the next three years, whenever she’d been to a friend's she had made sure she was ready, coat on if she’d taken one, standing by the door. Her dad was proud of her.
“You never let us down, Sharon. You’re a good kid. Some of the other parents have trouble getting their children out at all, never mind on time. Thanks for being such a good ‘un.”
Things began to change when Sharon's best friend, Karen, had a party to celebrate her sixteenth birthday.
“Please let me stay out later this time, dad,” Sharon pleaded. “It is a special occasion and you know Karen’s my best friend. Her mum and dad will be there all the time so you won’t need to worry about us. No alcohol and no smoking they’ve said.”
Joanna laughed. "We've all heard that one before, haven't we Scarlett?" - she said to her sister. "Someone always manages to sneak some in somehow, whatever the parents say. I've heard some of Karen's friends talking about it at school."
She turned to her mother. "You shouldn't let her go, mum. She'll get drunk."
Sharon gave her a look but Joanna hadn’t finished.
“Then there’s that boy that fancies you, Sharon. Gareth Thomas, he’ll be there. I think I know what sort of party games he’d like to play with you. We’ve heard about him, too, haven’t we Scarlett?’
It was another rhetorical question. Scarlett just nodded.
Sharon’s dad looked at his wife.
“We’ll think about it, won’t we Rachel? Maybe talk to Karen’s mum and dad.”
Later, Sharon couldn’t believe her luck when her dad told her she could go to Karen's party, and she could stay until midnight, but the usual routine must be followed.
“Be sure you’re ready when I come to pick you up at twelve,” Dad said.
Sharon's step-sisters were right. There was booze, and there was Gareth Thomas. She liked them both. Even though she’d given herself a talking to before she’d left home, she couldn’t resist when Karen offered her gin from a sparkling water bottle. Nor could she resist when Gareth began to chat her up. She completely forgot about the time. It had become more than a chat when she suddenly caught sight of his watch.
“Oh no, it’s ten past twelve!” She extricated herself from Gareth and flew to the front door, losing her left shoe in her haste.