Speak Now

Chapter 9: I talk to Cinderella

This chapter is dedicated to Bookaholic_me who has stuck with me from the beginning and is my best friend on Bookstagram 💗

"The greatest risk any one of us will ever take is to be seen as we truly are"
-Cinderella 

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Evelyn recounts her past like beads on a string, each different from the one before, and equally bold and dauntless. I listen to her talk with wide eyes, sometimes forgetting to write it down.

She tells us a little about the post war period, when she joined a Red Cross camp and bandaged up wounded British soldiers.

"British?" I ask, surprised.

"Oh Tristan hasn't told you he's part British has he?" Evelyn gives a short laugh. Tristan meets my gaze with a smile,"I don't have an accent though."

Evelyn rapped him on the knuckles,"You should really study our family tree. I still have cousins in Manchester although it's been so long..." she gazes off, eyes milky and hazy with memories.

"So do you miss Britain?"

"I miss the Queen's balls. That is how I met your grandfather, Tristan. Oh, it was perfectly lovely."

I write this down, circling the important bits I could stretch later.
Summing it all into a report shouldn't be a problem since I'm pretty good at writing.

Evelyn then explains how she met her husband, the aura of the ball, her nervousness, other girls giggling at her dress, which was simple compared to everyone else.

"...I was the only one who didn't have a dance partner." Evelyn sighs dreamily,"I suppose your grandfather thought it would be courtly to heed his attention onto a farmgirl...for pity's sake. But when he did, I insulted him. Accusing him of planning a joke. He laughed and forced me into a dance. I was frowning at first while Tom grinned like a Cheshire cat at me, immune to my hostility."

"That sounds like something out of a cheesy romance novel." Tristan rolls his eyes,"or better yet, a real life Cinderella retelling"

Evelyn glares at me,"And what's wrong with THAT?" She challenges him with her blue eyes and if it was me she was glaring at I would melt into my skin.

Tristan shrugs,"You know, it's not real so it's better not to dwell TOO much on it."

I snort. I'm a girl who reads. Whose world merges with fictional worlds, and his statement sparks something like anger in me. I have an urge to laugh because he thinks like everyone else, that fiction and stories shouldn't be studied because they aren't real.

"So?" I demand,"Stories like these are beautiful and reading and listening to them is like going thought them yourself. Like...." I pause, and I realise how much books mean to me. My sole companions. My friends. My saviours.

I don't realise I've voiced my thoughts until Evelyn smiles at me so brightly, I blush. Tristan stares at me with the same intensity, his eyes scrutinzing my every move.

"Are you a reader, my dear?" Evelyn asks with a voice both gentle and excited, the vigour bubbling beneath it like it might burst out any second.

I nod and Evelyn stands up,"Excuse me children. I shall be back in a minute."

Incredulous, I watch her hobble to the staircase and go up, her face a mask of express determination.

I avoid looking at Tristan. I can't believe he could be so oblivious to the worlds we jump into while dealing with stories. That no matter how real a story is, it's heart always gives you peace.