A Fractured Fairytale

Chapter 3-The truth

From when Belle was only a few months old, mum and dad took us down to Oakfield Park most weekends, which was only a stroll away. On my 7th birthday in March the following year, we took a detour to the park to pick up my best friend Phoebe.

Me and Phoebe Evangeline had been best friends since the first day of infant school. I will always remember perching on the bench in the playground and flicking through my storybook about butterflies, when I first caught a glimpse of Phoebe.

The butterfly book had stood taller on the shelf of the library than any other book and this is why I chose it. The book balanced on my plaid blue and white summers dress and almost weighed me down it was so big. Phoebe sat down beside me, she was so little like me I did not hear a sound. It was almost like the weightless feather of a dove had fallen from its ample wings. Causing me to look up, Phoebe placed a dandelion clock in the spine of my leather-bound book. I know it is a pathetic weed now, however at that age I thought it was the most beautiful thing ever. We both cupped our little palms over the flimsy stem on the flower and when our lips parted with air all of the wispy seeds floated away into the distance like fairies. The summer breeze carried them away and I recall some seeds landed in my hair too which resulted in us giggling. I guess one flower is all it takes to seal a friendship. A dandelion clock, this was where our friendship stemmed from.

Oakfield park was lined with willow trees, which arced over the park like a tunnel. You wouldn’t see the sky when you tilted you head upwards, instead you would look up to see the willow leaves, portraying all different beautiful shades of green. The clever thing about Oakfield park was that apart from the slide, swings and little bridge, it was all natural. It was so beautiful that it almost looked as if somebody had had a perfect vision when they created it that way, it came to life.

Light from the sun was filtered through the spiraling willow branches, streaking the mottled pathway with shadows. You almost felt cut of from the outside world when you entered Oakfield park, it was a scene you would usually discover in a fairytale.

From the narrow apple trees, fruit lay on the pathway, an inviting banquet for the surrounding woodland animals. Speckled bottle green, moss grew up the trees and against the bark the moss looked as if paint had been splattered over a dark canvas to create a masterpiece.

There was a river running through the park, which the water was so clear you could see the bottom. I had seen little children go swimming in the river, but I didn’t actually know how deep it was, so I had never attempted it myself. There were little grey steps leading down to the water and dad gave us the thumbs up to dip our toes in instead. So me and Phoebe sat on the steps, whilst the cool water bathed our stark naked feet. Mum let me hold Belle in between my legs and from the smug look on her chubby face it looked as if she was thrilled to splash about, just like a minute fish being released back into the ocean. Phoebe and I had competitions to see which one of us could hold the greatest amount of water in the palms of our hands, however after several failed attempts we realized our hands were like sieves and it didn’t really work.

Connecting dry land together was a pretty wooden bridge, coloured a peaceful blue and broad enough to fit lots of people on at a time. We had great fun playing pooh sticks, which is a simple game where each player drops a twig on the upstream side of the bridge and the one whose stick appears first on the downstream side is the winner. My stick was too heavy, so it sank immediately disqualifying me from the contest. Phoebe however had always been very bright and she had a strategy of choosing the lightest stick she could find around the park. Mum and dad demanded to be a team, which was technically against the rules but I guess it was fine to twist the boundaries a little. Mum and dad had always been a team. There was no dad without mum. I was afraid that without mum, dad would change. We could help dad experience happiness again, but realistically nobody would be talented enough to mend his broken heart. None of us could make him forget the pain he would be forced to face. The shame of knowing that his seven year old daughter knew everything before him would never fade away. She knew.