Encrypted

Chapter Three

"Mother?" My voice sounds embarrassingly small. "But you're..."

"Dead. I know. I can only be with you for a short time." I nod, though my mind is far away. It's the night of the ball, and after spending hours preparing Aemilia and Adelaide, they were finally content that they were "Suitably dressed to leave the house." With the sky-high list of chores, the logical thing to do would be get started, but instead, I went down to Mother's willow, at the far end of the garden - where I go to think. Of course, I was not expecting Mother to appear to me - not as the aged woman she was just before her death, but the woman in the portrait with laughing eyes.

"Why, though? Why now?" 

"You want to go to this ball. Is that correct?" I nod, a little unsure. This is not the woman I remember from my childhood. My mind, unexpectedly, drifts back to a moment I thought I had forgot. The night before Mother died, the way she stared out of the window. The way she threw the sweets Father gave me away. At least he was sober back then. Now I never see him, other than the odd glimpse or too, but then, he would spin me around, bring gifts. I never thought he was that sad when Mother died, but maybe the change in behaviour shows that he was. How nice for him. "I can help  you a little with that."

"How?" The word is out of my mouth before I can reconsider, think that it may be dangerous. 

"I can complete your chores, improve that dress of your's, give you a coach, driver, footman."

"How?" A faint smile plays on her lips.

"Magic." She whispers the word, as if trying not to scare me. Like my dead mother appearing to me won't scare me at all. 

"There's no catch or anything, is there? No "You must complete these tasks" or "When the last chime of midnight fades, you will revert to your normal self"?" Mother laughs. It's a warm sound. Rich.

"No! Of course not! I am, after all, your mother. Why-ever would I want to hurt you?" I shrug, a half smile playing on my lips.

"Then yes."

"Fabulous. Close your eyes." I do, and feel the smoothness of silk against my skin. I glance down to see the dress. Only different. It hugs my curves more, before swooping out into a full skirt that flounces when I move. The gold actually seems to shimmer metallically, and the pink seems somehow warmer, more suited to my skin tone. As I do an experimental twirl, I see a delicate pair of rose tinted glass slippers.

"Oh!" I cry out. "Thank you! They're perfect!" I turn, looking for Mother, but realise all I'm talking to is the wilting willow. Hurrying up the garden, I see a lavish carriage bedecked in gold and pink to match my dress. Mother is wonderful - it's all quite perfect, down to the last detail. As the most handsome man (My footman, presumably) opens the door, I almost laugh. It's like a perfect dream. But it's real. 

Laid out on a small coffee table is the most beautiful selection of cakes, all my favourites - carrot cake with buttercream icing, lemon drizzle, chocolate hazelnut... I can hardly stop myself from gobbling them down, but restrain myself, taking small, ladylike bites. But, oh! They taste so good! I groan contentedly, nearly forgetting where I'm going. Raising my hand to my hair, I find it braided back elaborately, with little circular stones - rose quartz - weaved in. If only I had thought to look in a mirror before we left.

As I pull my hand down, I stare at it for a moment. Two. The calluses are gone, and the skin on my hands is smooth and silky. As if I've never had to work a day of my life. Just like that, my past is easily removed. There one moment, gone the next. That easily. I smile involuntarily. Now no one will find out. Even if my delightful family realise who I am, it's not like anyone will believe them. Becky and Cathy would never go to a ball like this - they simply wouldn't know how to act, to behave. Everyone would know within moments. I know how to behave, and anyway, what servant would look as beautiful as me? 

As the palace comes into view, I can't help a gasp. It's magnificent - white marble turrets and towers, arches and columns... the details are precise, and I expect there's a lot I'm not seeing from this distance. The gardens are on different levels, and each has its own temple or fountain or statue... there's even a ha-ha. As we come up to the palace, my breath quickens, and I try to quell the absurd need to giggle. 

As I walk up the many steps, I take a moment to appreciate the work I was forced to do. It may not have been enjoyable, but I'm certainly in shape now - or enough so that I can manage to climb up two hundred stairs in glass heels. They're not uncomfortable - they fit perfectly - but they don't really have any give, and I'm so used to the horrific flat black shoes that were all I had to wear, these feel bizarre. Alien. My feet, at least, don't seem to be hurting or having any other ill effects, but only time will tell. Finally reaching the top, a strange feeling of nervousness and nausea washes through me. What if it all goes wrong? What happens next? Can I do this? I clench my fists. Yes. Yes I can.