Honestly, fans, I can tell you, I was livid! Since my party guests had consumed all the food I ordered online, there were of course no items left for me to return to the Superstore when I reported there for my first shift. That meant I could obtain no credit to reduce my penalty for non payment of the goods, so I was now legally bound to work for them for the next thirty nine days before I could quit! Meanwhile my Christmas job had given me some relevant experience, it’s true, but nothing could have prepared me for the grinding slog of the Superstore’s same day delivery service. So after my first gruelling day I decided that I clearly needed help, and that’s when I got an idea. Why not simply subcontract this work to some other poor soul – someone long accustomed to hard labour, who could really use the money? And in an instant I knew who would perfectly fit the bill:  

Hervor the Hamster!

Now take it from me, fans, Hervor the Hamster is a mighty strange creature. Firstly, most of her kind live in cages and belong to humans, but from her earliest years Hervor has lived an independent life in her own home out in the Welsh countryside. Secondly, everyone knows that hamsters come from Syria, not Scandinavia, yet Hervor never stops boasting that she is of Viking descent! She is lean, muscular, very competitive in all sorts of sports, and unusually attracted to water and boats – a fact which sets her far apart from others of her species. She has a brusque, fiery temperament which never suffers fools gladly, and she speaks with an odd kind of foreign accent that turns ‘s’ sounds into ‘shushes’, so that ‘trees’ become ‘treesh’, and ‘sand’ becomes ‘shand’. And thirdly, she is an obsessive hoarder. While it’s true that this is a common hamster trait, Hervor takes it to an entirely new level. As well as food, she will collect and store anything she finds that could possibly come in handy for a future need. She routinely takes home empty drinks cans, plastic bags, bottles and containers, discarded pens and pencils, old rags, hair ornaments, and the occasional coin or two. But she can also carry off much bigger things, and rumour has it that she once even stole the spare tyre off the back of a parked car!

Knowing all this, it’s no wonder that at the time I thought it was a real stroke of genius to pay Hervor to take over my Superstore job. But unfortunately this seemingly great idea then twisted and turned itself into a situation so explosive that it soon threatened to blow my whole life apart…

And thus it happened, that to my delight Hervor the Hamster got off to a flying start and easily surpassed my deliveries target, supplying goods to more than twenty five households on her first day! This greatly pleased my bosses, who, unaware that I wasn’t actually responsible for this achievement, gave me a box of chocolates to thank me for my sterling work. But being an honourable rat, I naturally couldn’t keep this prize from the person who had really earned it. And so after eating half of these tasty treats to check their quality, I carefully re-sealed the box and presented it to the hard working hamster as a reward for her efficiency. However I wasn’t prepared for her response.

‘And what ish thish?’ she enquired in her peculiar lilting accent, twitching her nose in distaste at the chocolate illustrations on the package.

‘Well, you did so well today, I thought you’d like this little gift as a token of my appreciation,’ I said in reply.

‘You wish to expresh your gratitude with confectionery?’ Her tone was a mixture of surprise and disdain. Then, ‘ Vikingsh do not eat shweetsh. Vikingsh eat fish,’ she told me plainly.

‘Fish? Oh, I see, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,’ I answered, taking the box back out of her hands.

Well, what a piece of luck, I thought to myself – now I could have a nice relaxing evening at home eating chocolates in front of my new widescreen TV! But it soon became clear that my evening of guilty pleasures wasn’t coming yet…

‘Sho, when you get me fish?’ she suddenly demanded in a loud voice. And her piercing black eyes glared expectantly into my face.

‘Erm, well, we’ll have to see about that,’ Hervor,’ I said, somewhat taken aback by her directness. ‘You see, it all depends when I get my fishing rod back from the repair shop.’

‘You fish with rod? Vikingsh fish with handsh. Handsh do not break, why you not yoosh them to fish?’ she asked me, staring scornfully back at me.

‘You catch fish with your hands?’ I was impressed. ‘Well, uh… I guess I’ve never acquired that skill, Hervor. Fact is, I’ve always found line fishing to be more than successful in my case, so there’s never been any need for me to try other methods.’

‘Thish ish very bad ex-kyoosh,’ stated the hamster. ‘I want fish. Catch it any way you want! You get me fish now, or I no work for you no more.’

The mere thought of going back to the Superstore delivery service sent chills running down my spine. I knew I must diffuse the situation as fast as possible, and so – ‘Fine, no problem, Hervor, I promise you’ll have a nice big, freshly caught fish brought right to your door in time for tomorrow’s breakfast,’ I announced in a confident voice, despite not having a clue how to get her one. But to my relief this bluff seemed to work, and she was satisfied at last.

‘Very good, I shall expect you at my howsh by five in the morning,’ she said. ‘Don’t be late, I shtart work at six.’

‘Five it is, then, see you tomorrow,’ said I, raising my hand to wave goodbye. Then after the hamster grunted back a rather less than sociable reply, the two of us duly parted company.

Oh, what had I done! Where in the world was I going to find Hervor a fresh fish by five the next morning? As my mind scrolled through the few local options available for this purpose, I was obliged to dismiss them by one. The fish market? …no, that was too far away. The pet shop? …no, that was closed. The Superstore? …no, that wasn’t open till 7am. But surely somehow, somewhere, there had to be a solution?  

And then I got it!  

Of course, why hadn’t I thought of it before? I had seen the very thing on Christmas Eve, during my disastrous adventure with Bam the Bruiser in the Lewis house. The family kept a huge great goldfish in a fancy tank in their living room, didn’t they? So all I had to do was steal it, smuggle it out of their property, and then present it to Hervor in time for breakfast. With skills like mine, that would surely be a piece of cake! After all, not for nothing was I known as the Acrobatic Aristoc-Rat – I would have that fish out of there before you could say ‘battered cod’!

However, unknown to me I wasn’t the only one going fishing that night…

And so it was that at around eleven thirty, when I was sure that all the Lewises had gone to bed, I stealthily approached the house with a large empty knapsack strapped to my back. As on Christmas Eve, I had planned to enter the premises by the chimney, however on my arrival I was pleasantly surprised to find a downstairs window partially open. Brilliant, I thought as I slipped through the gap onto the window sill, that’s going to make my job so much easier! There I paused for a moment to get my bearings and quickly run through the plan… Right – I was going to hop up to that tank, take off my backpack and dive in to catch the goldfish, then throw it into the bag and carry it off by the same way that I came in. Now what could be simpler than that?

But alas, hardly had these thoughts formed in my head when, peering further into the room, my gaze registered something small and green glinting by the fish tank. I blinked and adjusted my focus, then ever so slowly began to make out a dim shape draped over the side of it. Little by little the shape grew clearer and morphed into a familiar feline, which, as it now appeared, had one paw dipped in the water and one eye fixed on me…

OH, NO!

This was the cat from next door, Blackie the champion rat-catcher! I was toast!

Spinning round, I shot out of the window and started running – but not fast enough, Blackie was right behind me! He promptly grabbed hold of my knapsack and swung me up into midair, my arms wide apart and helpless to unclip the strap across my chest. Then before I knew it, he was bearing me speedily out of the garden and into the bleak and dusky night.  

Severely shaken, and dangling from his jaws like an old shoe by its laces, I never felt closer to a horrible end. Hundreds of yards flew beneath my nose as the cat bore me ever onwards to my fate. As to how long our journey took, I can’t say, but by and by we reached a stream which Blackie seemed intent on crossing… and at long last, that’s when I saw my chance to get away.  

The water was strewn with stones of all shapes and sizes, as well as multiple fallen branches, so that the cat had successfully reached midstream by stepping across the debris till he alighted on a small log. The log, however, was festooned with a heap of twigs that lay like unbrushed hair right in the middle of his path. Thinking nothing of it, and intending to simply spring over the hurdle, Blackie crouched down in order to launch himself to the other side. And that was when I, seizing the moment, reached out and grabbed hold of the said bunch of twigs so as to anchor myself to the spot.

The result was immediate. As the cat sprang forwards, he found his head constrained by the bag now firmly fastened to the detritus. With a yowl of rage he relinquished his prey – but too late to halt the momentum of the jump, the force of which sent his body sailing over his head in a magnificent backwards somersault. Plunging tail first into the water, the current carried him, still loudly protesting, under a bridge and off to the distant horizon… after which, just seconds later I too lost my grip on the twigs and was borne away by the stream!

As I tumbled through the sparkling effluent, colliding with various obstacles in my path and snatching my breath in short sharp gasps, I battled with all my strength to stay afloat and reach the shore. Then when I finally made it up onto dry land I collapsed with exhaustion into the grass, too tired even to shuffle off the backpack that had assumed an unexplained weight in the course of my journey. It was only as I found myself drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep that I was jolted awake with a sudden fright –  

There was something ALIVE thrashing about on my back!

Rigid with terror I lay there wide eyed, my heart pounding so hard that I thought it was going to explode. What could this be…? Visions of a small, mischievous elf danced around in my mind, so that I hardly dared breathe for fear that it would leap out and pummel me to death. But as the moments passed the creature grew weaker and weaker till at last it ceased all movement. At this I mustered my courage, and despite the trepidation that still gripped my soul, unclipped the bag and let it slide with a bump to the ground.

What I saw next took my breath away. For there inside my knapsack, plainly visible in the cool light of dawn, lay a massive silvery trout! It seemed that during my adventure in the stream the zip had pulled open, in so doing turning the backpack into a highly efficient trawl net for swallowing fish…  

I couldn’t believe it, it was mission accomplished! The trout had saved me from the fruitless quest for a Viking’s breakfast by obligingly bagging itself! Seeing this, I naturally wasted no time in delivering it to the hungry hamster. But if I’d expected any thanks for my trouble, she soon put me straight…  

‘Hi, Hervor,’ I said as she appeared in her doorway, ‘here’s the fish I promised you yesterday, caught by yours truly just one hour ago. You can’t get fresher than that, now, can you? So please – enjoy!’ And with a surge of pride I tugged back the zip on the knapsack to display my shiny grey trophy…

But to my amazement the hamster was clearly displeased.

‘Sho! I shee you bring me one very shmall trout. Thish ish not enough, Grumpkin. Vikingsh can eat four or five of these shardeens in one meal,’ she said, as she drilled into me with her sharp black eyes. ‘Thish what you bring me is baby fish. Next time you get me mama fish.’

‘You mean, there’s going to be a next time…?’ I felt an instant, sickening lurch in the pit of my stomach.

‘What you think? Of corsh there will be next time! For delivery job I need many caloreesh. You want I do your work, you feed me every day till contract endsh!’

WHAT? I had to feed her every morning for thirty six more days?

My mind began racing as I wondered how in the world I was going to catch all those fish in time for her daily breakfast. But just then Hervor’s voice cut through my thoughts like a laser beam through a block of ice.

‘All right, Grumpkin, I work till four, then home by four thirty. Now – when you bring my shupper?’

Well, fans, I finished my first three months of service in the Territorial Army Reserves some weeks ago now, and who would have thought that I would travel all the way from Swansea to the Port of Dover only to find a neighbour from my own street serving in the very same unit? So just picture my amazement when, after leaving the barracks, I found myself riding home on the train with someone who had actually served on my team during this whole tour of duty – none other than Private McAcker, the IT wonder kid! Now George McAcker is a friendly brown rat with a laid-back, easy going nature, who is always ready to help without waiting to be asked. Thus it was, that after hearing that I lived alone with no telephone or any other modern means of communication, he immediately offered to procure me a recycled handset and sign me up for the new rodent mobile phone service that was just taking off in our area. And though in truth I had little use for such perplexing high-tech devices, seeing how proud it would make him to assist a huge celebrity like me, I hadn’t the heart to refuse him. And I’m afraid that this, dear fans, is how I got into rather a spot of bother…

Well, as soon as he got the go-ahead from me, off went George to the Recycling Centre to check out the ever-popular small electrical appliances bin. And sure enough, a cursory glance inside identified no less than three discarded mobiles, one of which was an iPhone 6 in mint condition! Bagging this immediately, he then brought it back to my house and used his highly classified hacker’s formula to break through the security lock and restore the device to factory settings. At this point I have to confess that it truly was an impressive piece of kit! For a creature of my stature it was more than equal in size to what humans call a wide screen TV, and was able to function not only as a television, but also a radio, a phone, a camera and a very sophisticated computer. As well as acquiring the device itself, George managed to provide a stand to place it on, a phone charger and a compatible keyboard, too, that I could use to type text into the search engine or one of the many smartphone apps while looking up at the lovely supersize screen. But of course, few of these functions could have worked without a phone or internet connection, and so for a modest monthly fee he signed me up with his own service provider, Ro-Go Mobile. And it must be said, for the first day or two everything went fine. It was, however, following yet more helpful advice from the tekkie, that things took a decided turn for the worse… and this is how it happened:

For years I had been going down to the supermarket, buying a week’s worth of groceries, and then struggling back up the hill with bags that weighed a ton. So when George pointed out that I could actually make my purchases online and have my local store deliver them right to my door, I couldn’t have been more delighted. Here at last was a way to shop that would put an end to that drudgery once and for all! And thus it was, that thanks to this great technology I promptly signed up for a customer account, and placed my very first order on the spot. But who would have thought that a few freshly baked bread rolls could get me into so much trouble?

Well, I mean, really! Am I the only rat in the world who has ever made an honest mistake? All I wanted to do was reward George for his assistance by holding a small get-together in his honour, to which happy occasion I had invited a number of friends and neighbours wishing to meet this new-found technical wizard. To keep things easy I had chosen to make a buffet supper, and so I figured – what meal could be simpler to prepare than bread and cheese, and some bowlfuls of tasty salads? A quick headcount of my intended guests meant that I should order seven bread rolls, which I duly noted on the form. But on doing the maths again, I realised I’d left a few people out, so to correct the original quantity I then typed ‘8’ into the box, and completed the rest of my order. After that, I read and accepted the Terms and Conditions, then clicked to agree the amount payable for my purchases. Finally, with the party food now sorted, I congratulated myself on a job well done and then settled back to await the delivery.

However, when many hours passed with no sign of my groceries, I started to get concerned. I was just thinking that I really ought to call the store, when all at once there was a loud knocking at my front door. And so imagine my reaction, when, as I rushed to open it, my eyes were met by a breathless old toad who stared wearily back at me, mopping his brow with a bright red handkerchief.

‘Lord Grumpkin of Grumblemore? I’ve got your order waiting outside,’ he told me in a rasping voice, wheezing heavily as from a major exertion.

‘Ah, good – just bring it into the kitchen, if that’s all right. Here, look, I’ve weighed your earthworms and put them in this tub,’ I told him, pushing the container forward for him to take in exchange for the goods.

The amphibian blinked quizzically at my offering for several seconds before responding. ‘And what is that, exactly?’

‘Well, my payment, of course. The price listed on your website for eight bread rolls and all my other items is five hundred grams of live worms.’ Puzzled by his reaction, I wondered if he thought my tub wasn’t large enough to contain this quantity. ‘Would you like to check the weight on your own scales?’ I suggested kindly. But to my surprise he was clearly upset.

‘No, no!’ he said pointedly, fixing me with a narrowing gaze. ‘That’s not eight rolls. That’s seventy eight rolls.’

‘Seventy eight rolls?’ For a minute I thought he must be joking, so I burst out laughing. Then as his face of stone glared back at me, I realised with horror that he was in deadly earnest. ‘Hey, look – I’m a rat-sized person ordering human-sized food, for goodness’ sake!’ I cried. ‘What on earth would I do with seventy eight bread rolls?’

‘Only you can answer that, Lord Grumpkin. My job is simply to deliver your purchases and collect the payment,’ came the reply.

‘Well, there must have been a computer error, that’s all. Can’t you just take the extra ones back?’

‘Take them back…?’ At the very suggestion the old toad seemed suddenly faint, swaying slightly in the breeze. Then, rebounding just as suddenly, ‘Didn’t you read the T&C’s?’ he demanded stormily. ‘It plainly says, no refunds, no returns, and payment in full to be made at the time of delivery.’

‘Well, yes, it’s true, it does say that,’ I’m forced to concede.

‘And isn’t it also true that according to this invoice, the total cost of your order, including the surcharge for overweight consignments, is thirty nine kilos of earthworms?’ Now he was striking the document with an angry fist.

‘It’s HOW much? Here, let me see that!’ I exclaimed in disbelief, snatching it out of his hands. And then as the awful truth filtered through to my frazzled brain, ‘But this is preposterous, where in the world am I going to find thirty nine kilos of live earthworms at such short notice?’

My question was followed by a prolonged pause from the toad, whose face had just brightened as from a new, inspiring thought. Then after calmly detaching the invoice from between my fingers, he produced a pair of spectacles from his pocket and began to read aloud the small print at the bottom of the page…

‘To all our Superstore customers, please note the following:  

  For anyone who does not pay,  

  We have a law, by which we say:  

  For every kilo that you owe  

  You’ll work one day for us! And so  

  Report for duty, don’t delay –  

  Because this job will start today!’

Hearing this, I was totally gobsmacked. ‘What – ME, work for the supermarket?’ 

But conversely, the old toad was now beaming broadly. ‘Let’s see, thirty nine days’ work… that’s five and a half weeks, give or take. Well, I haven’t had a day off in ten years, so I reckon they must owe me at least that much in holiday time, don’t you?’ And as clouds of dismay descended on my spirit, he tossed me the ropes to his cart, stacked high with all the goods I had ordered, and then said, ‘You know the way down to the store. You can take this lot back there when you report for your first duty – which, if I’m not mistaken, will start in just fifteen minutes.’

‘Fifteen minutes?’I couldn’t believe it, this was an impossible deadline.

‘Yes, I know that’s pushing it a bit, but what do I care?’ he went on cheerily. ‘After all, for the next thirty nine days I’ll be living it up in Spain, won’t I?’

‘In Spain? No, please, I’ll get you the worms, I promise I will, just give me more time!’

The toad, however, remained unmoved. ‘Sorry, Grumpkin, no can do. I’m sure you’ve guessed this already, but in case you still haven’t twigged it, from now on it’s official: Starting today you’re the new Superstore delivery man. That means you’ll be taking my place until I return… if I ever do return, that is.’

‘What absolute nonsense, you can’t make me do that! I’m one thousand three hundred and thirteenth in line to the throne of Rattyland, for heaven’s sake. What if all the other royals die, and they need me to rule the kingdom?’

But ignoring my very reasonable protests, to my annoyance the old toad was already turning to leave. ‘Hasta la vista, Grumpkin!’ he called brightly over his shoulder.  ‘Just remember to mind the tricky little field mouse at number five. She’s housekeeper to that new brown rat who’s moved into the owner’s barn – Jasper, I think they call him. Anyway, I’d stay away from her, if I were you. She really ought to be in the Magic Circle, in my view. Even when you’re sure that nothing’s moving, she’ll steal groceries off your cart under your very nose… and trust me, if that happens, it certainly won’t be her who replaces them!’ Then before I could utter another word, he took one giant leap forwards and started hopping down the hill.

Well, fans, I could hardly say I was sorry when he was gone. But surely it couldn’t be true, surely he hadn’t really just signed me up as his own replacement Superstore delivery man?

No, of course not, I said to myself. As I had signed no employment contract, I was plainly under no legal obligation to take his place. In fact, as I considered it logically, if the old toad was now on his way to Spain, then who was there left to tell the store I was supposed to be doing his work? And who was going to pursue me if I didn’t turn up for duty? So with the help of these and many other reassuring thoughts I heaved an immense sigh of relief, then turned my attention back to the mountain of perishables still sitting outside GRUMBLEMORE. Well, my sensible thinking went on – wasting food was wrong, wasn’t it? So why not do the ethically correct thing, and abandon the modest thank-you supper for George in favour of a great big bash in my own honour? What a brilliant, absolutely perfect idea!

With that, invitations promptly went out to the whole neighbourhood, and in no time the place was heaving with guests who tucked into the plentiful food and revelled in this spontaneous festive occasion. Well, the party continued long into the small hours, and quite naturally nobody wanted to leave. They were so happy to get a free meal that they were all binging non-stop on the goodies, and just couldn’t stay away from the table. On top of this, of course, there was also much wine, music and dancing. Indeed there was such a lot of confusion and noise that it’s a wonder I heard it at all…

It was a soft, pleasant sound, a sort of high pitched warbling cry that kept repeating itself at precisely timed intervals. Could it be a bird, I wondered? But most birds sing in the daytime, and this was the dead of night. I was still puzzling over what it might be when George appeared by my side.

‘Aren’t you going to get that, Grumpkin?’ he asked me, surprised.

‘Get what?’ I asked him back, equally surprised.

‘It’s your phone,’ he said, ‘you need to answer it.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said I. ‘Well, what should I do?’ It was the first time I’d heard it ring, and I hadn’t a clue how to take the call.

‘Here, let me,’ he offered. And so saying, he pressed a couple of buttons and beckoned me over to the screen. Then as he made signs at me to say something, I bent forward to speak…

‘Hello,’ I said to the unknown caller, ‘you’ve reached Lord Grumpkin of Grumblemore. How may I help you?’

‘Ah, at last, Lord Grumpkin, this is your local Superstore! We were expecting you at 6pm yesterday, and we’ve been trying to get through to you for ages.’

‘You’re calling from the Superstore?’ My blood ran cold.

‘Yes, that’s right, Lord Grumpkin. Your predecessor Mr. Toad has telephoned us to say that he’s now in Spain, and that you’ve taken over his job. Please bring all your unpaid groceries with you and report for duty immediately. After all, you still haven’t delivered yesterday’s goods, and you have another full round of deliveries today!’

Well, fans, as you may have noticed, I’ve been out of touch for many weeks now, and apart from another adventure that I can’t talk about here, there is excellent news to report. I’m pleased to say that I recently returned from my first tour of duty in the Army Reserves at the Port of Dover, and by all accounts I performed this service with distinction. Of course I’m sure that this is nothing less than you’d expect, but given the nature of what transpired during that military operation, it’s fair to say that I truly surpassed myself. Indeed, the part which I played in it was so remarkable that in the end even the local Press turned up to film me in action!

It all kicked off when I reported for duty at the barracks down at the Eastern Docks, only to be told to get my kit on directly and join the unit, which was about to set out on its way to a major incident. These orders resulted from intelligence passed to our commanding officer by the seagull division of the A.R., which indicated that a large group of foreign rats was in the process of illegally entering the U.K. According to that intelligence, it seemed that these unwelcome aliens had boarded the ferry at Calais, and were now attempting to enter the country by one of the oldest tricks in the book – namely, clinging to the underside of a continental lorry, where they could easily evade human detection. The fact that they had made it off the ferry by means of this conveyance was nothing unusual. The real surprise was that they’d done it in such numbers, and were now looking forward to a free ride into Dover!

As a result this called for all available reservists to take part in a master plan, which had been agreed by the commanding officers of two affiliated companies – the local unit of the Angry Rodent Brigade, and the Seagull Squadron. These would now need to work seamlessly together to intercept the aliens before they could jump off the truck and escape into town, where they could then lose themselves in their surroundings and avoid capture… and from the get-go it was very clear they were going to make our job as hard as possible!

Thus it was that after my initial briefing I hastily got into uniform and reported to my senior officer, a bright little field mouse with a supersize personality called Lance Corporal Clout, who passed me my weapon with some salutary words of caution…

‘This is your tranquilizer gun,’ he told me as he handed it over. ‘I strongly suggest that you keep the safety catch on till you’re ready to fire, and treat it with respect at all times. Now to go with that you’ve got a standard pack of twenty darts, see? I’ll be heading up your team during this operation, so don’t worry, if you need more ammo just ask me. Right then, Private G, any questions before we leave?’

Private G?

I mean, the cheek of it!  Is that any way to address ME, Lord Grumpkin of Grumblemore? ME the Acrobatic Aristoc-Rat, famed throughout the world? Well, I can tell you, fans, I was livid! But in light of the urgency of our mission I thought the better of an angry retort, and so instead constrained myself to answer him with a simple ‘No, Sir.’

‘Very well,’ said Lance Corporal Clout, ‘go and stand with Fireteam Fifteen and we’ll be off momentarily.’

With that I found myself awaiting further orders with my other two team members. The first of these was an eager young weasel called Jaws, who, as her name suggests, was as quick with her teeth as she was with her gun. The second – her temperamental opposite – was a slow, methodical brown rat with a kindly nature and a lot of patience. This rat, named McAcker (or ‘Mac the Hacker’ on account of his superior IT skills), soon made a reputation for himself thanks to his diligent work and unflappable self-confidence, and proved to be an asset to the team in many ways.

Well, before I go on, it occurs to me that I ought to explain the dazzling military strategy that was about to be deployed. Our troops consisted of eighteen teams of rodents that were setting out to pursue the large continental truck carrying the illegal immigrants – twenty three brown rats in all – and to do that, we too had to hitch rides on lorries.

The idea was, that because it couldn’t be known where that truck was headed, or whether or not our own lorries would go the same way, by sending out as many fireteams as possible we would increase the chances that at least one of them would be able to stick on its trail till the job was complete.

And now for the clever bit. Once a team got close enough to the truck (for example at red traffic lights) they had instructions to board it immediately with their guns loaded and ready for action. Next they would shoot tranquilizing darts at the foreign rats, causing them to fall off the lorry and onto the road, whereupon the Seagull Squadron would dive swiftly down to pick them up and convey them to the sea. The birds were then ordered to drop them onto the deck of one of the many outward bound ferries, by means of which transport the peacefully sleeping aliens would be returned to Europe before they had time to wake up.

This was a daring and brilliant plan, much deserving of praise. But more than that, the ingenious stratagem was, as it turned out, the brainchild of none other than our own mini but mighty Lance Corporal Clout, which he had proffered in hopes of an early promotion. But alas, as we all know, there’s a proverb that speaks of ‘the best laid plans’. And so it was that by and by, while expected happenings failed to unfold, unexpected happenings began to abound.

In the event it all got off to a most promising start, which only served to magnify our faith in this mission. That’s because Fire Team Fifteen’s lorry was moving so rapidly up the traffic queue that, to our delight, it soon came to a halt behind the very truck that bore the illegal immigrants. This was it, it was game on!  So with great excitement we cocked our guns and transferred across to the offending truck. But as we would soon find out, things were about to take a rather strange turn…

Now that I look back, I clearly recall a moment when out of nowhere my gun made a startling noise. Alerted by the sound, I glanced down and noticed that my tranquilizing dart was no longer in place. Could it have dropped out? As unlikely as that seemed, I bent forwards and scanned the road surface below to see if it was there – but in vain. I was just raising my eyes again, when without warning or explanation, Lance Corporal Clout suddenly tipped off his perch and plopped down to the ground. Well, for goodness’ sake, what was he playing at? But worse was to come. As the lights changed and we pulled away from our fallen comrade, a short sighted member of the Seagull Squadron, who apparently mistook the officer for an alien, swooped down and carried him off to a ferry bound for Calais. And that was the last we saw of him till two weeks later, when the Army obtained his release from custody by sending his passport over to France so he could finally leave the country.

In the meantime, of course, we three remaining members of his team were left without a leader. And thus it came about, that accustomed as I was to giving orders, it naturally fell to me to take command of our operation.

‘Well, don’t just sit there, get after them!’ I barked to Jaws and McAcker, as spying our guns, the foreign rats fled as fast as they could towards the front of the lorry. And straightaway we gave chase, clambering speedily over the intervening wires and metalwork in hot pursuit of the aliens. But this feat of gymnastics turned out to be very tricky, made harder still by the bumping and swaying of the vehicle. Now we needed all four limbs to keep us aboard the truck, and since we had no hands free to shoot them with tranquilizing darts, the fugitives soon increased their lead. We watched them get within jumping distance of the lorry ahead of us, then were astonished to note that during the very short time it took for the lights to switch back to green, no less than twenty one of them had successfully made it across to safety! This said, with grim determination we homed in on the remaining two, only to notice that strangely, each of these rascals grasped bunches of coloured wires between their teeth. Undaunted, however, we were just closing in on them when to our dismay they made yet another surprise move and dived off the side of the truck!

At that selfsame instant the vehicle swerved abruptly, shooting off the road and onto the verge where it promptly overturned. And now that the force of the impact had thrown the three of us clear of the truck, I hurriedly shouted to McAcker and Jaws to go after the runaways, who had dodged our flurry of darts and were now dashing into the long grass. I, in the meantime, went to check on the driver, whose head was tilted sideways and whose arm dangled limply out of the window.

As I approached the cabin it was clear that the man was injured and unconscious, so quick as a flash I climbed inside. There I tried to revive him by pinching and smacking his face, but after some moments passed and that didn’t work, I knew I had to call for help… and so the question was, how?

My mind was a complete blank, till out of the deep recesses of my memory came recollections of an SOS message I had once learned to tap out in Morse Code. It was a long shot, but it might just work! So with that inspiration I scanned the dashboard and the steering wheel, and quickly located the truck’s horn. Then without further ado I blasted out repeated cycles of the following sounds:

‘Bip-bip-bip, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, bip-bip-bip!’

And at long last, after what seemed like eons of passing time, I finally heard the siren of an approaching ambulance.

Well, fans, quite naturally I was then hailed as the hero of the hour! Newspaper journalists and TV crews were all over me, eager to see how a creature such as myself could possibly use a truck’s horn to broadcast an SOS distress signal in Morse Code. Of course I was more than happy to demonstrate my skills, and even happier to be filmed and photographed for their news reports. But best of all, I later found out that as a result of my prompt actions, the driver got to hospital just in time to have the surgery he needed to survive the crash.

Meanwhile, back at the base I received yet more acclaim. The commanding officer praised my creativity and quick thinking under pressure. He said I had brought honour and distinction to the Angry Rodent Brigade, and if I were to continue as I had begun then I would go far in my military career. In celebration of my success he then ordered the kitchen to lay on a special festive meal for the troops – and following this, due to the liquid refreshment we also consumed at this time, he graciously granted us an added bonus by declaring the next day a holiday!

To top it off, that evening I made the headlines in all the local and national papers. And of course this news story should have been the icing on the cake, providing, as it did, so many tributes to my inspiring heroism and ingenuity!

But my delight was rather short lived after I read an article by one stupid, ignorant reporter who wrote this caption next to my picture:

MORSE CODE RATTY SAVES MAN’S LIFE

What – he calls me ‘RATTY’?

You mean, he really doesn’t know who I am?

Honestly, now, how long would it take him to ask someone? And failing that, surely with a bit of initiative and just three more letters he could have written a much more suitable title, like this one which I’ve just composed myself:

MORSE CODE SUPER-RAT SAVES MAN’S LIFE

Well, for heaven’s sake! Isn’t it enough that I’m saving the planet one human at a time, do I really have to write my own eulogies as well?

Yes, fans, I’m well aware that Christmas is the season to be jolly, but I mean REALLY! Some people have a very warped sense of humour and don’t know when to stop. What am I talking about? Well, the Santa Claus delivery service, of course! And when I tell you that this little tale involves those notorious pranksters, the ten year old twins who live next door, it will surely come as no surprise that my fate was sealed from the moment I signed up to volunteer!

But wait, I’d better back up for a second. You do know, don’t you, that Santa Claus himself can’t possibly distribute Christmas presents to every single child in the whole wide world? Earth is a very big planet, you see, and so for that reason he needs an awful lot of helpers if his gifts are going to be delivered to all children everywhere by the end of Christmas Eve. I don’t mean human helpers, of course – they are far too inept and clumsy to be of any use to Santa. No, what I’m talking about is animal helpers, hand-picked for their superior fitness and acrobatic skills: criteria which quite obviously make ME, the Acrobatic Aristoc-Rat, a natural choice for the job! This said, as you might expect I volunteered my services at the earliest opportunity, and then breezed through the selection process without a hitch. Then after that there was nothing more for me to do but to sit back and wait for further instructions to arrive by post.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before I received a letter from the North Pole informing me of the addresses where I was to deliver gifts. And even though animal volunteers nearly always distribute presents to the children living nearest to them, I have to confess I was quite unprepared for Santa’s orders assigning me to be his bearer of Christmas joy to – of all people– my neighbours, the Lewis twins!

Now to be fair, Hugh and Sue Lewis might be perfectly nice children, if they ever had reason to believe that their good behaviour would be sufficiently profitable. However, lacking as they are in financial inducements, they instead delight in creating mischief, havoc and destruction wherever they go. And so, dear fans, imagine my dismay when I saw what gift Santa was going to ask me to deliver to them:

None other than ‘Bam the Bruiser’ – the latest robot toy!

Well, for starters you should know that this thing is HUGE, so my first question was, how would I manage to get it into the house without being noticed? As entry points, the doors and windows were clearly out of the question, being, as they were, locked from the inside. That left only one other real alternative – namely, the chimney. Fortunately for me, the family had just installed a brand new boiler and no longer lit fires in the fireplace, meaning that access from there should now be safe. But as I was soon to find out, that was the least of the dangers I would face in this most hazardous of missions. And so, when two of Santa’s elves dropped off the enormous pile of gifts for me to distribute on Christmas Eve, in order to lighten my load I decided to begin my itinerary at the Lewis property – and that was my big mistake…

Thus it was that late on the evening of 24th December I donned my Santa costume, complete with white beard and moustache, and Pom Pom hat – then dragged my gift-laden hand cart out into the crisp winter wind. The cold took my breath away for a second, and I briefly paused to look up at the sky. Winking down on me from above was a panorama of silver stars stretching in all directions for as far as the eye could see. From somewhere in the distance came the sound of church bells ringing, and delicious smells of festive food were emanating from homes all around me. ‘What a perfect night!’ I exclaimed aloud to myself. But it didn’t stay perfect for long.

As I approached the Lewis residence, I noted with satisfaction that the house was in darkness. Great, everyone had gone to bed, that would make my job much easier! Now all I had to do was get the twins’ present up onto the roof and down the chimney, which, thanks to a nearby tree, would be a cinch!

So I quickly removed their gift from the cart and put it into a convenient backpack which I had brought along for the purpose. Then leaving the hand cart under the tree, I swung myself up through the branches till I reached the rooftop. From there it was child’s play to slither down the chimney into the fireplace, and now I only had to place the toy in the children’s stocking before making my getaway.

It all started so well. Upstairs, I easily located the twins’ room and soon found, not a stocking, but a basket full of presents placed between their two beds. With that I slipped off my backpack and dropped the parcel into the basket, then turned and tiptoed away. Marvellous – job done! Now I just had to return to the living room, climb back up the chimney and resume my deliveries. What could be simpler?

Once back in the front room I paused again to savour the seasonal peace and tranquility. A green plastic tree sparkled with lights in the corner, surrounded by a myriad colourful packages, and the whole place was decorated with cards, tinsel and imitation snowflakes. There was a sweet smell of mulled wine hanging in the air, and half empty glasses and the remains of mince pies and other edible debris were left on piles of plates scattered round the room. Boy, that must have been some party! I listened as intermittent snores, sounding at two different musical pitches, indicated a pair of heavy sleepers in the master bedroom upstairs. Clearly Mr. and Mrs. Lewis were out for the count! Well, it was time to get a move on if I was to complete the rest of my deliveries before the early hours, so with that I stepped into the fireplace and stretched up my arms to begin the long climb out of the property…

But at that selfsame instant, the very wrath of hell broke out against me!

Out of nowhere came a mighty roar, then hands like giant graspers clamped hold of my body and dragged me back into the room! What on earth was going on? In vain I kicked and struggled, whatever held me captive had no intentions of letting me go. Then as I finally twisted round to see my abductor, I gasped with shock. Oh, no, I knew that face – I had fallen prey to the master destroyer himself, Bam the Bruiser! Now what was I going to do?

Then before I had time to think, the robot whizzed me three times round in the air and launched me forcefully at the opposite wall! But unknown to him, my many years in the circus had me well trained in the art of aerobatics. And thus it was, that to avoid disaster I spread wide my arms like a bird in flight, then wheeled round and made landfall on the Christmas tree instead! After that I dropped to the floor and disappeared among the presents, but to my horror Bam was right on my trail. Scattering gifts in all directions, he ploughed through the greenery in hot pursuit of his victim, while I, in the meantime, shot for cover under the nearest armchair…

However, a robot is a tenacious beast, and as I was soon to find out, one little armchair is no obstacle to a pulping machine like Bam the Bruiser. He came at the furniture with an ear-splitting war cry, then as if it were made of cardboard, tossed it onto its side and pulverised it with his heavy metal fist! And then, just as I fled in terror back towards the tree, the unthinkable happened – he stepped on my tail and snatched me up from the floor. Next moment he tipped back his head and swung me over his gaping mouth. And as I stared in consternation at his huge incisors, he suddenly released his grip, dropping me like a pebble into a pond, straight past the teeth and down his tubular throat!

Now it was pitch dark, and with only a few minutes of air left, I was desperate to get out of the robot’s belly! But slithering about in his stainless steel innards, I quickly realised I couldn’t climb back up to his mouth. With no other obvious means of escape I was really starting to panic, till I chanced upon a large tangle of wires in the middle of his body. That was when I began biting and tearing everything in reach, which soon had dramatic effect…

All of a sudden Bam went into convulsions, falling to the floor and throwing his limbs wildly about. On his torso multi-coloured lights flashed repeatedly on and off, and strange, unintelligible sounds came from between his snapping jaws.

Meanwhile, inside his body I bounced back and forth like a ping-pong ball in a frenzy – until, from the depths of the underworld, out it came:

A ginormous MEGA-SNEEZE!

And with that, the full force of a hurricane wind blasted me up through Bam’s chest and out through his nose!

Smashing several glasses, I skidded across the table and slammed head first into the punch bowl. Dazed and confused, I lay there motionless for a second, till shrieks of glee and the sounds of hysterical laughter brought me back to my senses –

OH, NO – the twins!

Quick as a flash I dived off the table, followed by two eager young humans who promptly gave chase! Round and round the floor we raced till I foolishly ran under the Christmas tree, where I was soon cornered. But before giving up I had one more trick up my sleeve: I headed straight for the tree trunk and started climbing! At this, the children plunged their hands into the tree, grabbing and shaking the branches in an effort to catch me, and sending decorations flying on all sides. And so it was that, just as I anticipated, one of them finally pulled too hard and brought the whole, entire tree crashing down on the floor! Then as the place descended into an uproar of shouting and accusations, I slunk quietly back to the fireplace, hauled myself up the chimney and escaped from the house at long last…

But that wasn’t the end.

As I came back down the tree, I was surprised to see a pair of mice in police uniform standing by my hand cart and fixing me with a suspicious stare. Oh dear, what could be wrong now?

‘Evening, Officers, lovely weather for Christmas, isn’t it?’ I remarked, in what I hoped were warm and pleasant tones.

‘Lovely weather? Well, let’s see now, there’s no snow to slow you down tonight, so yes, I would think that is rather good weather for your purposes,’ concurred the first one.

‘Right, and contrary to this morning’s forecast there’s no ice for you to slip on either, is there?  So that’s got to be another big plus, hasn’t it, Mr. Rat?’ the second one chipped in.

‘And to top it off, you don’t even have any fog to get lost in, do you, sir? Not like last night, that was a real pea-souper! So all in all, I’d say the weather looks just about perfect for your sort of activities, wouldn’t you agree?’ the first went on.

‘My sort of activities? Oh, of course you mean the Santa Claus delivery service! Well, yes, you’re absolutely right, with a job as hard as this I really couldn’t have asked for better weather conditions,’ said I with a beaming smile.

‘The Santa Claus delivery service?’ The two officers exchanged incredulous looks, then fell about laughing. ‘Well, we’ve heard it called many things, it’s true, but that’s priceless!’ they said.

‘Really, Officers, there’s no need to be rude,’ I replied indignantly. ‘I’ll have you know that I’m performing a highly valuable public service.’

But to my annoyance, the pair only laughed the louder. ‘A valuable public service!’ the second officer repeated, as tears of merriment rolled down his cheeks. ‘Dear me, that’s the best joke I’ve heard all year – just wait till the Chief reads it in my report!’

‘Joke? No, Officer, it’s no joke, I assure you!’ I said firmly, by now beginning to lose my temper. ‘For goodness’ sake, have some common sense! Why else do you think I’m dressed in this Father Christmas costume?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, for the same reason that I’m dressed as the Tooth Fairy, I should imagine,’ came the snappy reply.

‘You’re dressed as the Tooth Fairy?’ I said, blinking in puzzlement at the policeman’s blue uniform.

But then, as my gaze began travelling down my own body I just couldn’t believe what I saw:

It seemed that Bam the Bruiser had completely swallowed my Santa outfit, and I now had no clothes on at all!

‘All right, sir, perhaps you’d like to explain how you’ve come to be in possession of these stolen goods?’ said the first officer, pointing to the presents on my hand cart.

‘You think I’m a thief?’ I was mortified at the very idea. ‘Oh, no, Officer, these aren’t stolen goods, they’re Christmas gifts for the local children,’ I said, as I hurried to correct him.

‘Christmas gifts, eh? Dear, oh dear, you must think we were born yesterday! Well, if that’s really the best you can come up with, then I’m afraid you’re going to have to come down to the station for some further questioning,’ he told me.

‘What – you’re surely not intending to arrest me?’ I cried in disbelief. Then, as they yanked my hands behind my back and I heard the unmistakable sound of handcuffs clinking shut, ‘This is a scandal, don’t you know who I am? I’m Lord Grumpkin of Grumblemore, the world famous Aristoc-Rat – you can’t do this to me, I have royal blood! I’ll have you know that I’m one thousand three hundred and thirteenth in line to the Throne of Rattyland, I demand to be treated with respect! Now uncuff me immediately, do you hear me?’

‘Right you are, sir, and I’m the Queen of Sheba,’ came the witty retort,  ‘and if you have any problems with that, you can express your royal displeasure in person to our formidable Chief of Police.’

‘No, no, Officer, I’m telling you this is all wrong, you’re making a terrible mistake!’

‘Well, why don’t we let the Chief decide that, Your Majesty?’

And then believe it or not, quick as a wink they bundled me into their waiting vehicle and took me away.

Well, I can tell you, fans, I’ve never been so humiliated in all my life! I spent the rest of that night and the whole of Christmas Day in a police cell, waiting for them to confirm my status as a Santa volunteer. And did they apologise for this ignominious treatment? No, of course not! Then when they finally did release me, I found that a crafty little weasel called Sneak had not only taken over my Christmas delivery duties for that night, but also persuaded Santa to give him my job for three more years! I mean, the cheek of it! Is there no justice on planet Earth?

So much for helping others, I think I’ll spend next Christmas enjoying myself for a change. Perhaps I could go away instead? I’m sure if I look hard enough I could find a nice package holiday somewhere very far from here, where the locals treat celebrities like me with the proper reverence and honour.

Hmm, that’s given me an idea… I wonder if NASA has any upcoming Mars Missions  that would interest me?

Well, hello again, fans, and many apologies for my recent lack of communication! Please be assured, this was quite unintentional and entirely unplanned. As you will soon see, no one could have been more surprised than I was by what transpired during this time, but suffice to say that at the end of the day this has resulted in some most exciting news! That said, I’m sure you can’t wait to hear more, so without further ado, here is an account of the truly remarkable events that have led up to my current status:

It all kicked off early in August, when I received a recorded delivery letter from my cousin Lord Kvetcher – which, it must be said, is a highly unusual occurrence. Kvetch (as he is affectionately known to his family and friends) is currently stationed in Calais, France, where he is serving in the overseas unit of the Angry Rodent Brigade. Now Cousin Kvetch hardly ever writes letters, so as soon as I saw it was from him, I knew it had to be serious. But as my nervous fingers fumbled to open the envelope, nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to read…

He began by telling me that this unit is a special branch of the Army Reserves attached to the Home Office, whose job it is to intercept foreign rodents trying to enter the U.K. illegally. Many of these unfortunate creatures are either a threat to our own native species, or else carry deadly diseases that need to be kept out of Britain. This means the work is very dangerous and difficult, and in consequence of that, the unit has recently lost three high-ranking officers and eleven privates, including weasels, rats and mice. Some died of illnesses caught from the illegal immigrants, but most perished in combat. Shortly before writing his letter, Kvetch himself sustained a nasty wound to his neck while trying to stop a sickly black rat from jumping aboard a ship bound for Dover. Now he was fighting for his life in a French hospital, and turning to me for help…

‘Things here are bad, Grumpkin, really bad. More and more illegal rodents are crossing to Britain every day, and there just aren’t enough of us to stop them. We desperately need more recruits, and so of course I naturally thought of you. With all the acrobatic training you got in the circus, I’m quite certain you’d be ideal for this work. Could you come and see me? We can talk more about it then.’ And so with not a little trepidation, I booked my ticket for the ferry and reached the hospital by noon of the next day.

By then, much to my relief Kvetch was out of danger and well on the road to recovery. But as we sat and talked about the Angry Rodent Brigade, despite all my misgivings it soon became plain that I couldn’t ignore this new vocational calling. After all, who could be better suited than yours truly – the world famous Lion-Hearted Super-Rat – to take up such a noble challenge? Yes, fans, my country clearly needed me, and it was my duty to respond!

So with the decision made, I returned to the U.K. and duly applied to join the Army Reserves. Then amazingly enough, just one month later I was off to the Brecon Beacons for six weeks of basic training… which I have to tell you, were absolutely gruelling! Because of the dire shortage of recruits, our six week course consolidated what would normally be two phases of initial training into a single block of time, meaning that at the end of it we had been thoroughly trained in physical fitness, weapons handling, field craft, map reading, military terminology, first aid and army drill.

Our instructor was a nasty little weasel called Fang, who kept us all in order with a deadly set of incisors, routinely threatening to bite us whenever we didn’t jump to command fast enough. One day I forgot to polish my boots for the parade, so as punishment she made me run fifteen times round the compound in the sweltering summer heat with a fully loaded backpack. Then she caught another recruit chewing gum while on duty, and forced him to stand outside in the pouring rain instead of eating dinner with the rest of us in the mess hall. She left him there all night and then next day made him do a full morning’s work on an empty stomach. And as for the food – don’t get me started! Their porridge would make excellent wallpaper paste, their baked beans taste like wood chips boiled in orange paint – and believe me, you really don’t want to know what goes into their vegetarian sausages!

But to my enormous relief it was finally all over on October 13th, when I and the other recruits passed out of the Training Centre with a formal parade, followed by a rather splendid four-course dinner. As might be expected, my many friends and a large number of fans came to the ceremony to celebrate my success. Amongst them was Bumble the miniature badger, who after it was finished had this to say:

‘Well, twizzle my whiskers, Grumpkin, I didn’t know you had it in you! I suppose we’ll have to call you Private Grumpkin from now on, won’t we?’

‘Private Grumpkin? No, of course not!’ I said indignantly. ‘Being a soldier doesn’t mean I’m no longer an Aristoc-Rat, Bumble. I’m still perfectly entitled to be addressed as Lord Grumpkin of Grumblemore, just the same as always.’

‘Hmm, you might want to reconsider that, Grumpkin. After all, it’s a pretty big mouthful for your commanding officer to shout at you on the battlefield,’ he pointed out.

‘What do you mean, a big mouthful? What are you talking about?’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘imagine them barking out this order:  “Private Lord Grumpkin of Grumblemore – FIRE!” ’

‘Bumble, I do appreciate that most soldiers are not aristocrats,’ I snorted, ‘but what can possibly be wrong with using my full nobleman’s title on the battlefield?’

‘Oh, nothing, Grumpkin, nothing at all,’ he answered meekly. ‘Of course, you’ll just have to pray very hard that all the enemy soldiers have even longer names…’

 

Hello fans, it’s Grumpkin again. Apologies for whispering, but I’m trying my best to stay hidden while keeping up with some very fast moving events. As you will recall, Swindlerella has just hinted that after she marries her daughter into royalty she plans to become the power behind the throne, killing every person that stands in her way! She’s changed Cindy into the appearance of her stepsister Dulley, and shut her in the understairs cupboard to await a certain death. She’s changed her daughter Dulley into the appearance of Cindy, so that thus disguised she may receive a marriage proposal from the king’s son, Frank. And now the witch and her other daughter Dazey are in the kitchen while the young couple here in the living room decide their future – and it must be said, it’s all getting rather tense!

Meanwhile Bertie the Bluebottle has returned to his lampshade, and I am back under the sofa, both of us still hoping against hope that something will come along to frustrate this murderous plot. But I’d be lying if I told you that I really thought that would happen. And now as we listen in to their conversation, Prince Frank is working hard to show how sorry he is for upsetting Cindy the night before…

‘I really should have taken things more slowly, it was so selfish of me to put you under pressure,’ he tells the princess. ‘It’s just that, after you’ve searched for years and then at last found that one special person that you want to spend the rest of your life with – well, I guess it’s very hard not to want to have it all now, isn’t it? Can you forgive me?’

‘Oh, Francis, I’m the one who should apologise, not you! If only I were half the person you think I am,’ breathes Dulley, wanting to say so much more.

‘Nonsense, what could you possibly have to apologise for? You’re quite simply the kindest, gentlest, sweetest girl there is, and if I haven’t already told you – I’m madly in love with you!’ he declares with passion. Then gazing deep into her eyes, ‘You’re the only one for me, Cindy, tell me you feel the same way!’

‘I do, Francis,’ she murmurs, overcome.

‘Then you’ll marry me?’

There’s a pause and she suddenly twists away from him. ‘You think you  know me, but you don’t,’ she blurts out with a sob. ‘One day you’ll find out that I’m not the person you thought I was, then you’ll hate me forever!’ Now tears are running down her cheeks.

‘Hate you? Never! How could I ever hate the one I love so completely?’ His voice is soft and pleading as he reaches out to touch her.

At this Dulley turns her head towards  him. ‘Do you mean that?’

‘Of course I mean it.’

‘Then… you love me, no matter what?’

‘I love you no matter what, Cindy.’

With a questioning stare she comes fully round to face him. ‘Forever and ever?’

The answer is immediate. ‘I promise you, Cindy, I’ll love you forever and ever!’

And now at last she believes him. ‘Oh, Francis, I love you too!’ she confesses, falling blissfully into his arms. ‘I  can hardly believe this is real, it’s like a fairy tale, like an impossible dream that’s just come true!’

Elated, the prince  showers her with kisses while his hand finds its way into his pocket to retrieve a small leather box… then next moment he pulls away to fall down on one knee:

‘My dearest Cindy,’ he begins, laughing with joy, ‘please make me the happiest man alive and tell me you’ll become my wife!’ So saying, he opens the box to display a spectacular diamond engagement ring. The sight of it renders Dulley speechless with awe, but she gives him a beaming smile and nods vigorously. And with this confirmation, the prince continues, swept along on a tide of euphoria: ‘Here, hold out your left hand,’ he tells her, still laughing as he takes it in his own. Now he detaches the ring from its place and selects the finger which is to receive it. But as he is about to slip it on, the door bursts open with a bang. He looks abruptly up to see who is there, and at once his expression turns to annoyance.

‘Who are you, and how dare you come barging in here like that?’ he demands indignantly. Then getting to his feet, he points in disgust at the intruder’s clothes, ‘And what is this? Do you think it’s some kind of joke to go parading around dressed like Cindy?’

But in a shaky voice the girl replies, ‘It seems your memory has failed  you, Prince Frank. As I recall, it was only yesterday when you came to this house and said that you loved me… and it was certainly only yesterday when you asked me to marry you. How is it, then, that just one day later you’ve come back to propose to Dulley?’

‘To Dulley…?’ The young man reels with shock, spinning round to face the other girl. ‘You’re Dulley?’ he repeats, as if in a daze.

‘She’s lying! I’m not Dulley, she is!’ cries the outraged stepsister.

‘No, I’m Cindy and I can prove it!’ comes the heated retort. ‘Prince Frank, please – just ask me some questions  about your favourite mare!’

‘Oh, no, anyone can talk about horses, I’ve got a much better idea,’ the stepsister intervenes. ‘Why don’t you tell him about spells and potions, Dulley? I bet anything you like you haven’t told him your mother is a witch, have you?’

‘A witch?’ echoes the prince.

‘Oh, why can’t you tell the truth? Swindlerella is your mother, not mine!’ exclaims Cindy, now visibly upset.

‘Liar! And I suppose you’re also going to deny that she’s been teaching you magic all these years? Go on, then – can you seriously look the prince in the eye and deny that you’ve asked to join her Coven?’

While the argument rages back and forth, I see Bertie up on the lampshade looking just as bewildered as I am, both of us totally confused by what is happening. For only a few minutes ago Cindy was shut in a cupboard, as good as dead. Yet defying all explanation, here she stands now, full of life and clothed from head to foot in a princess costume! But there’s no time to ponder this miraculous resurrection, for next minute I become aware of more footsteps approaching the room, and we experience a strong sense of foreboding as the door opens for the second time… Now an unrecognised person glides into our presence, followed closely by the girl Dazey. The stranger wears a close fitting scarlet evening gown with matching shoes, and her raven hair is styled in a stunning updo punctuated with silver jewellery. Makeup extends her dark eyes like a mask, and a heavy perfume lingers around her. And then she opens her mouth:

‘Oh, my! It’s Prince Frank, isn’t it, I’d know you anywhere! What a great honour it is to welcome you to our home,’ she declares in sultry tones. And holding out a bejewelled hand to meet his, her red-painted, inch long fingernails click together as the prince grasps them in a warm greeting. ‘I’m Ella, Cindy’s mother,’ she announces, wrapping a maternal arm round Dulley’s shoulder.  ‘Prince Frank, may I take this opportunity to say how much my daughter enjoyed dancing with you during the Royal Ball? From what I hear it was the event of the year, and indeed, she’s talked of nothing else ever since.’

‘Well, the pleasure was all mine, I assure you. In fact, as you can see, I enjoyed her company so much that I’ve come all this way here tonight to pay her a visit.’

‘Really? Oh, how very kind of you.’

‘And, well, Ella, I do hope you won’t mind, but we have something really important to tell you. I know I should have asked your permission first, and for that I can only apologise. But the thing is, we’re in love, you see, and so I have to confess that I’ve just asked Cindy to marry me… and she’s said yes.’

‘You’re going to be married?’ The woman flushes with delight. ‘Why, I can hardly believe it, that’s wonderful! What splendid news, Prince Frank, my hearty congratulations to you both!’

Before he can reply, however, a cry goes up from the girl who stands apart from the rest. Her skin is ghostly pale, her lips and starkly dyed hair are now the colour of jet, and she is draped in garments black as night.

‘What have you done to me?’ she  screams at Swindlerella. ‘Stop your magic! Stop it now,and turn me back into Cindy!’

But in response the woman shoots a clawed forefinger into her face. ‘How did that witch’s daughter get in here?’ she spits from between her teeth. ‘I want her out of my house. Get her out of here IMMEDIATELY!’

Hearing this, the prince approaches the shrouded figure to see her off the premises. He is shocked and angry in a way she’s never seen before, and it unnerves her. ‘Don’t listen to her, Frank, it’s me, Cindy!’ the girl appeals to him. ‘My stepmother’s done this to me, don’t you get it? She’s a witch, she’s put a spell on me! Please, you’ve got to believe me – she’s made me swap places with Dulley so you’ll marry her instead of me!’

But her entreaties are in vain, and now he takes her firmly by the shoulders. ‘You heard the lady, she’s asked you to leave,’ he says. And despite her continuing protests, he propels her towards the living room door.

‘No, no, you can’t force me, I won’t go!’ she shouts, trying hard to fight him off. ‘This is my home, I live here!’

Yet still unheeding, he pushes her forwards, telling her, ‘You’re only making it worse by struggling like that, now quieten down!’

Then all at once comes a flash as bright as lightning! And as he strains to see what’s there, an ethereal figure appears in the doorway, hovering several inches from the floor. Her wings gleam with all the colours of the rainbow, and her raiment is of finest gossamer, in turquoise, pink and purple. ‘My, what a lot of magic is in the air tonight!’ she sighs in a voice like raindrops on summer leaves.

‘Wh-who on earth are you?’ stutters the prince, shocked by this startling vision.

‘I’m Grace, Cindy’s fairy godmother,’  she answers calmly, ‘and you of course need no introduction, Prince Frank! But if I may be so bold, perhaps I could ask you a question, too? You see, I’m most  interested to know exactly who it is that you wish to marry…’

‘To marry? Well, her, of course!’ And as the young man turns and points at the girl in black behind him, his face creases with confusion.

‘I see, so it’s Dulley that you love, then,’ she says, mischief twinkling in her eyes.

‘Dulley? No, not her – Cindy!’ he says, turning abruptly back again. And then he gasps to see a princess standing next to him, precisely where the girl in black had stood just one second ago. ‘What is this, what’s going on?’ he cries indignantly. ‘Stop your trickery right now – turn this creature back to what she was before, and turn Cindy back into a princess!’

‘She has turned me back into a princess, Frank. Do you still not know me?’ Cindy takes a step closer and lifts off her mask. ‘I’m the one who helped your horse Polarity when she wouldn’t eat. She’s a black mare with white feet and a white mane and tail. Her foal is black all over except for a white dot on his forehead. His name is Dwarf Star, and once he was returned to his mother she started eating again right away. Polarity is a champion show jumper,  and you have high hopes that Dwarf Star will be another winner, just like her.’

Prince Frank is completely stunned. ‘It’s true, then, it really is you…’ he breathes. ‘How could I have been so wrong? Oh, Cindy, I’m so sorry…’ But just as he approaches to embrace her–

‘All right, this has gone far enough!’ a voice behind him suddenly explodes. ‘Well, well, if it isn’t Grace, the little sugar plum fairy!’ comments Swindlerella in tones thick with irony, as she storms up to her rival and fixes her with a piercing stare. ‘Did you actually think your pathetic fairy magic could trump my witchcraft? Come on then, Grace,  let’s see what you can do about this!’ So saying, she lifts up her arms and utters a powerful incantation – whereupon the fairy godmother is promptly transformed into the frivolous form of a budgerigar, squawking noisily as she flutters away across the room. Then with a ripple of satisfaction, the woman now switches her gaze back to Cindy…

‘Well, my, my, what have we here? Ah, yes – quite the troublemaker, aren’t you, my dear!’ With this she takes hold of  the girl’s chin, pulling it this way and that to examine her features. ‘Well, let’s see, we’ve tried you as a moth, and just now as a goth, but neither one of them was really you, I’d say… so what would you like to become for your final incarnation? A slug, perhaps? Or, how about a cockroach?’ She breaks into raucous laughter, and Cindy shudders in response.

‘Leave her alone, you witch!’ shouts the prince, launching himself at Swindlerella in an effort to overpower her. But with a cursory wave of her hand she freezes him to the spot and carries on as if he isn’t there. ‘A cockroach, yes, I like that… I may need to run through the spell one more time to check I’ve got it right, but that’s no problem.’

‘No, Mum, please – Cindy’s our sister, don’t do this to her!’ Dazey rushes up in great concern.

‘It’s all right, Dazey, it’s just a joke! Mum’s going to teach Cindy a lesson, that’s all, then afterwards she’ll change her back into a girl,’ says Dulley, trying to calm her, but to no avail.

‘She won’t change her back, she’s going to leave her like that forever! Why else do you think she froze Prince Frank before he could make her stop?’ insists Dazey.

Alarmed, now Dulley spins round to face her mother. ‘That’s rubbish, isn’t it, Mum? You will turn Cindy back into a girl eventually, won’t you?’ Then when silence is her only answer, ‘Well, when you made us put her in the cupboard, I knew you weren’t really going to let her die. What I mean is, your magic was always going to bring her back in the end, wasn’t it? …wasn’t it?’

But all of a sudden she glances back at her sister, who isn’t moving. ‘Oh, no – what’s wrong with Dazey? What have you done to her, Mum?’ she exclaims in fright.

‘Now you mustn’t worry about Dazey and Prince Frank, child. As soon as I’ve finished with Cindy they’ll both be absolutely fine, as will you,’ comes the reply. ‘I assure you, once this is over none of you will remember any of this.’ And that said, with a sweep of her hand she freezes Dulley too.

It’s clear now what she means to do next, and  I’m starting to panic! I see Cindy trembling before her as she begins to chant the words of a spell. I see the prince and her stepsisters frozen in time, and her fairy godmother changed into a little bird, all helpless to intervene. I see Bertie the Bluebottle staring down at me, willing me to do something, and then it happens:

I run headlong at Swindlerella and sink my teeth deep into her foot!

In vain she screams and shakes her leg about, she cannot throw me off! I’m swinging to the right and left, my jaw is aching fit to split my face in half, but still I’m hanging on. Now she reaches to the table for a vase to hit me with. I’m too late to stop her, she has it in her hand! She’s lifting it high to whack it hard down on me, but now her face is contorting, something is wrong… She starts convulsing, losing her balance, and I’m out of my mind with fear! Then at last I hear intelligible sounds…

Those words! Someone is chanting, someone is casting a spell…

CRASH!

The vase slips from the witch’s hand and smashes, and my teeth suddenly crunch together as the foot shrinks in my mouth!

What is going on? I blink and look again. This can’t be real! Swindlerella is gone, where is she? And now my vision narrows till it homes in on a glossy, rust-coloured insect scuttling out of my grasp. It’s about an inch and a half long with hairy legs, and antennae even longer than its body. Then as I struggle to understand what I’m seeing, something small and feathered flaps down in front of me…

‘Oh, thank God it’s finally over, Grumpkin!’ cries Grace. ‘That evil witch, that murderous, scheming monster has got nothing less than she deserves, and now we can all get our lives back again! I can’t tell you what a relief it is to know that Swindlerella will never, ever be able to harm another person again. And what’s more, you can be very sure of this – her life as a cockroach will be vile, squalid, and extremely short!’

I am gobsmacked… ‘She’s really gone? But how can you be so sure?’

‘Oh, elementary, my dear Grumpkin! You see, Swindlerella had it all planned to turn Cindy into a cockroach – and let me tell you, that spell is lethal! But, of course, before that she just couldn’t resist turning me into a budgie, could she? And that was her big mistake.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t follow,’ I say with a puzzled frown.

‘But, Grumpkin, it’s so simple! You see, being this small, I was able to sneak up unnoticed and take careful note while Swindlerella rehearsed the words of her spell, which was actually quite short and easy to memorize. And because I was now a talking bird, when the right time came I just opened my beak and pronounced the magic words over her instead!’

‘I say, Grace, how absolutely brilliant, I couldn’t have done it better myself!’ I tell her ardently.

‘Well, thank you, Grumpkin, that’s high praise indeed, coming from you,’ she says with a beaming smile.

But by this point I no longer hear her. I am starting to fret as my thoughts return to Cindy and the others, wondering how in the world they can be saved. And so now, sensing my concerns, the fairy godmother makes a surprising response…

‘You must have no fears about about the future, Grumpkin,’ she assures me. ‘I promise you, not a single one of Swindlerella’s prophesies will come true. Please believe me when I say that it’s all over, and from this moment on the witch’s magic is broken forever!’ Then as she continues to talk, little by little the calm quietness in her voice allays my anxiety.

‘Cindy will indeed marry Prince Frank, and they will have three children and live well into old age,’ she tells me. ‘And as for the girls, very soon Dazey will become lady-in-waiting to her stepsister the Princess. She’ll gain self confidence and charm, losing weight and becoming quite a beauty, and she’ll eventually marry a nobleman. Dulley will work at the palace too, beginning as a stable hand. Here is where she’ll learn to love people as well as horses, and in the end she, too, will turn into a very kind and sympathetic person. Thanks to this, after seven years she’ll catch the eye of Prince Frank’s younger brother Ernest, and they’ll get married. They will also have three children, and to the great delight of the nation, two of these will become Olympic horse riding champions! So you see, Grumpkin, in the end it will all turn out perfectly.’

She’s right, of course, all her predictions sound really great. And yet despite this, something is still troubling me…

‘But what about you, Grace?’ I ask her. ‘Will you have to stay like this forever…?’

‘You mean, will I always be a bird?’

Now the room grows very bright, and the tinkling sound of wind chimes is all around. As I shield my eyes, I’m just in time to see her feathers come ablaze with the colours of purple, pink and turquoise, and then melt away into the soft, translucent form of a fairy in flight. And there is more… The harder I look, the more I see fairies everywhere, their luminous wings like soap bubbles in sunlight, their voices like raindrops on summer leaves… and now she speaks again:

‘It’s time, Grumpkin. Your work here is finished, and this is not your world. In a moment I will snap my fingers and you will return to the place where you truly belong, but before that I have the authority to grant you one wish. So tell me, little friend, what shall it be?’

‘A wish? Ah, well, since you ask, there is something that would make me quite simply the happiest rat on earth,’ I tell her eagerly. ‘Fact is, Grace, I’ve always had a weakness for watermelons, so if you could see your way clear to indulging me, that would be absolutely awesome!’

‘That’s it? I’m offering you anything you like in the entire universe, and all you want from me is a watermelon?’

‘Well, not one watermelon, exactly. I was rather hoping you would grant me a never-ending supply for the rest of my life,’ I hear myself tell her.

‘A never-ending supply of watermelons for the rest of your life…?’ repeats the baffled fairy.

‘Yes, I really like their magical effects, you see,’ I try to explain.

She gives me a pitying smile. ‘Watermelons aren’t magical, they’re just fruit, Grumpkin.’

‘They may be just fruit to everyone else, but not to me,’ I declare firmly. ‘They have special powers which let me see faraway worlds that I can actually travel to in my mind, and whenever I eat any, I always have dreams with the most fantastic adventures! Honestly, Grace, you really couldn’t give me anything better in the whole wide world.’

Hearing these words, the fairy finally concedes. ‘All right, Grumpkin, if that’s what you truly want,’ she says with a twinkle in her eye. Then lifting high her wand she cries, ‘Receive your heart’s desire!’ And with that she utters a short, snappy incantation, upon which the scene abruptly changes… and now all of a sudden I’m back in GRUMBLEMORE,  where strangely, I’m starting to feel rather boxed in.

‘What the heck–?’

I immediately find myself wedged into a kitchen chair where I am pinned down by the weight of a watermelon. A second melon lies behind me, and two more hem me in on both sides. Worse than this, to my dismay, I see they are replicating at an alarming rate and now the whole kitchen is filling up with watermelons! All the exits are already blocked, and I can’t even see the door…

I mean, what is this, some kind of joke?

Okay, Grace, you’ve had your fun, now stop messing about and undo your magic spell. Get over here this minute, d’you hear me? Come on, come on, where are you?

Right, that’s it, you’ve done it now – just you wait till I tell the Fairy Queen, she’ll have your wand for this!

Well, for goodness’ sake, are you even listening?

I said –GRACE!!!

 

 

Hello again, fans, Grumpkin here – and, oh, my goodness, what a dreadful ending it was to the lovers’ reunion last night, wasn’t it!

What happened? Well, it seems that at the stroke of midnight – the very moment when Cindy was accepting Prince Frank’s proposal, and he was taking her diamond ring out of his pocket – the young girl was suddenly turned back into a white ermine moth. Looking up to find she had vanished, the prince thought she must have fled from the room overcome with emotion. With this he hurried out after her, then seeing that she was nowhere to be found he started fearing for her safety. As he ran out of the house to look for her, he was oblivious to the distraught Cindy flying along in his wake, desperate to get his attention. He had no way to know that by slamming the door behind him he had smashed her into the doorframe, all but killing her! It was only some time later, when somebody opened the door and she fell unnoticed to the floor, that Bertie the Bluebottle flew over to my place to ask me to get her out of harm’s way. And it was then, that horrified as I was to hear of her plight, I immediately rushed out to pick her up and bring her home.

Now as I write to you with this sad news, it’s around 5.30pm on the day after these events, and here I am in the wall of Swindlerella’s kitchen taking care of a small and very poorly white moth who may not make it through till nightfall. I can tell you fans, it sucks! But in spite of Cindy’s gloomy prognosis, I note that Bertie still hasn’t given up hopes of saving her life. In fact he seems quite excited about a new idea he’s had, though by this time I really think he’s clutching at straws.

‘You see, I’m guessing that when Grace tried to figure out how to make one day’zzz magic stretch to two, she made a basic miscalculation,’ he tells me in animated tones. ‘Simply put, it means that in the heat of the moment she divided twenty four hours by two and got six instead of twelve.’ Then seeing my puzzled expression, he goes on,

‘Consider this, Grumpkin: When Cindy the moth drank that leftover magic potion at precisely six o’clock yesterday, it was actually the third time that it turned someone into a princess, not the second. And then at precisely midnight it changed her back into the creature she had been six hours earlier – which, thanks to Swindlerella, was of course the same moth that we now have here.’

Despite his enthusiasm, however, the fly is still not getting through to me. ‘I’m sorry, Bertie, I’m not following you. What’s your point?’ I ask him impatiently.

‘My point, Grumpkin, is this: Grace’s magic couldn’t possibly have changed anyone into a princess for six hours on three different nights, unless its power could last for more than the number of dayzzz she intended. In other words, instead of dividing twenty four hours of magic into two twelve-hour periods on two consecutive days, she must have accidentally split the magic into four six-hour periods spread over four days. Well, we now know that only eighteen of those twenty four hours have been used up. So that means there are still another six hours of magic left for us to use tonight for Cindy, aren’t there! Get it now?’

‘Oh, yes, I suppose that does sound logical,’ I’m forced to agree.

‘Right, then. Well, I’ve just been back to see, and there is enough blue potion in that glass for one small moth to drink at 6pm tonight, so I really think we should go for it. The only question is, can we manage to keep Cindy alive till then?’

‘Wait a minute, not so fast!’ I say. ‘It’s all very well to change her back into a princess for six hours, but how’s that going to help her, Bertie? She’s at death’s door, and nothing we can say or do is going to change that. What difference can it possibly make whether she dies as a moth or a human being?’

‘It could make all the difference in the world if we could find some medicine that would help her,’ he says pointedly.

‘Some medicine? Do you really think we could find a treatment that could heal such serious injuries in just six hours?’ But by now I’m beginning to sense that my friend the fly has a real plan. ‘All right, Bertie, I can see you’re not ready to give up on her yet, so what do you want us to do?’

‘Well, the most important thing of course is to make sure Cindy stays alive till the right time cumzzz. Then a few minutes before the top of the hour I’ll buzzz you to tell you to take her into the living room, so she can be sure to drink the potion at exactly six o’clock. Once she’s done that, the magic should take care of the rest.’

I shoot an anxious glance at our poor moth. ‘That sounds simple enough, but it may be easier said than done. Just look at her, Bertie, she’s so weak! We’ll have to really hope and pray we can keep her going long enough for this plan of yours to work.’

‘Have some faith, Grumpkin, it’s all going to be fine,’ he answers confidently. ‘Now you keep your eye on the clock, and I’ll start counting down to the action.’

‘All right, I’ll stand by for further orders, then,’ I tell him.  And with that I raise my gaze to the kitchen clock, where I watch the seconds ticking away with agonising slowness…

Well, fans, it’s now five forty five – just three minutes later than when I last checked – and I’ve honestly never known time take so long to pass! Cindy’s growing feebler by the moment, and although there’s less than a quarter of an hour to go till her last dose of magic potion, I’m genuinely afraid she won’t survive for even another two minutes…

Right, I’ve just looked at the clock again, and now it’s five fifty three. Against all the odds Cindy is still with us, so to get through the remaining time I’m simply going to shut my eyes and count very slowly to a hundred.

… Ninety seven, ninety eight, ninety nine, a hundred! Well, at this point it’s three minutes to six, and I can hardly believe she’s hung on for this long! What’s more, at last I’m getting the buzz from Bertie, which means it’s finally time for me to carry her into the next room. This of course is the moment of truth… and I must confess to you fans, the prospect of it all going horribly wrong is making me very, very nervous.

Right, then – deep breath – wish me luck, everyone, here I go!

Well, you’ll be glad to know I’ve now got Cindy tucked safe in my arms, and here we are entering the living room where I can easily spot the glass of blue potion sitting on the coffee table. But the question is, how am I going to get her up there without dropping her? Okay, fans, I think I’m going to trust my many years of training in the circus for this one. Let’s see if a good sprint up to the table, followed by one of my spectacular triple-spinning jumps, will do the job…

And, YES! Done it! Now we’re on the table, and all I have to do is figure out how I’m going to get her into the glass so she can take some sips. I’ll just lift her up and see if I can get her to hold onto the rim… and – oh great, that’s worked perfectly! Right, now if I start gently pulling the glass down towards her, it should bring the blue potion right up to her tongue, or whatever that long thing is that she drinks with. Well, I’ve done that, but she’s not really responding, I’m afraid. And now, as an annoying buzzing sound approaches my ear, I’d say that here comes Bertie the Bluebottle to assess my progress.

‘Come on, come on, Grumpkin, we have just nineteen seconds till six o’clock, we really need to get a move on!’ he complains, as he flies round and round the table in frustrated figures of eight.

‘I am doing my best, Bertie, I just can’t get her to drink anything,’ I answer in tones of despair.

‘All right, don’t worry, leave this to me!’ he says. And then I watch with surprise, as diving head first into the glass he carefully uncoils Cindy’s tongue and immerses it into the potion to try and make her drink. But by now only nine seconds remain till the clock strikes six, and still nothing we do is working. Are all our efforts doomed to fail? Have we left it too late to save her?

Five, and now four seconds to go. Hey, did I imagine it, or did Cindy just twitch? Three, and now two seconds left. Then all of a sudden –

BAM!!

What in the world is happening? The empty glass rolls perilously across the table as its erstwhile occupant is abruptly cast out – and there, swaying on her feet from the shock, is our beloved Cindy! Again she finds herself transformed into a princess, the beautiful future bride of the king’s eldest son. Then as memories of the past come flooding back she is overwhelmed with sorrow and collapses with grief. I immediately rush to her side, but in vain I try to coax her up. Lost in pain she neither sees nor hears me, so that I really don’t know how to help her. But unfortunately none of that matters anymore, because I now realise we have a new problem…

The front door has just banged shut, and footsteps are coming this way!

Seeking cover, I scarper under the sofa while Bertie whizzes up to his lookout post on the lampshade. And as we wait with baited breath to see who it is, it isn’t long before we find out…

The door swings open and in tramps Dazey with a stack of Chinese takeaway food, which she is about to place on the coffee table when she suddenly notices Cindy on the floor. With a gasp of dismay, she throws down the food then stoops to examine the ailing teenager.

‘Hey, Mum, you’d better come quick!’ she yells, anxiously searching for Cindy’s pulse.

‘Just putting the kettle on, I’ll be there in a minute,’ her mother shouts from the kitchen.

Now Dulley comes in, curious to know what’s going on. But the sight of the unconscious girl pulls her up short, and she inhales sharply in response. ‘What on earth – ? Where did she come from? We’ve been looking everywhere for her!’ she cries, bending down for a closer look.

In the meantime Swindlerella enters the living room, and as she surveys the scene her face brightens noticeably. ‘My, my, what do we have here? Oh, what a shame, girls, it seems your stepsister is a little out of sorts. Well, what a piece of luck, I couldn’t have arranged things better myself!’ she says with a sinister laugh.

But Dulley scolds her. ‘It’s really serious, Mum, she’s hardly breathing!’

‘Hardly breathing, you say? Well, the news just gets better and better,’ she answers cheerily. Then as her two daughters turn surprised faces towards her, she goes on, ‘No need to panic, girls, everything’s under control, and so long as you do exactly what I say this will be all over by midnight. Right, then, let’s get started. Dulley, I want you to lie down next to Cindy and keep perfectly still.’

‘What?’

‘Come on, jump to it!’

So while Bertie and I look on, Dulley lies down and her mother chants some kind of spell over the prostrate pair. And next second –

POW! Suddenly Cindy is back in her old clothes and Dulley is dressed like a princess!

‘B-but I don’t understand, why have you done this?’ stammers the stupefied Dulley, rising shakily to her feet.

‘Well, well, you never were the sharpest pin in the box, were you?’ her mother responds, her voice laden with scorn. ‘I did it for you, of course, you ungrateful child -so you can marry Prince Frank. That is what you want, isn’t it?’

‘But, Mum, the prince is in love with Cindy, not me,’ she says in a voice that isn’t hers.

‘You stupid girl, do you not see what I’ve done? Surely you can tell that I haven’t just given you Cindy’s clothes? From now on, you ARE Cindy, and that half-dead creature by your feet is history! Now I want you to pick her up and get her out of here. Take her out of the room and dump her in the understairs cupboard. Go NOW!’

‘What… ?’

‘You heard me!’

‘But if she dies in there, it will be our fault and we could all go to prison,’ Dazey says tearfully.

‘I promise you, Dazey, nobody here is going to prison!’ comes the snappy answer. ‘Cindy only has six hours left in her human form, so by the time the clock strikes midnight she won’t be a dead girl any more, she’ll be a dead moth. And no one goes to prison for killing a moth, do they? Now do as I say, and get her out of here!’

So the trembling Dazey and Dulley do as they are told and carry Cindy out of the room. Bertie flies out after them and I follow discreetly behind, just in time to watch them drag her into the cupboard and slam the door. But hardly have they completed the wicked deed before another familiar sound is heard. It is the doorbell ringing, and Swindlerella’s impatience is rising by the second.

‘For goodness’ sake, hurry up, child!’ she roars at Dulley. ‘Look, your hair is all ruffled and your mask has slipped out of place – here, let me! Now, quick, go and open the door… and whatever you do, don’t forget to smile!’

‘But why, who is it?’ asks the youngster.

‘It’s Prince Frank, of course. I’ve put a spell on him, so he’s come back to the house to propose to you.’

‘To propose to me? But, Mum, the prince knows very well that I’m a cheat and a liar. How in the world is he ever going to ask me to marry him?

By now Swindlerella is at the end of her patience. ‘Oh, foolish girl, I see you haven’t understood a single word I’ve said!’ she exclaims. ‘Very well, then, it seems the moment has come to show you how strong my magic powers really are…’ And with this, snapping her fingers to freeze time for everyone else, she says: ‘Now open that cupboard door and tell me who you see inside.’

Then as the poor, confused youngster pulls it open, she lets out a shriek. For defying all belief, lying in an untidy heap on the floor she spies none other than her own lifeless body! But if Dulley is now in the cupboard, then who in heaven’s name is SHE… ?

Noting her bewilderment, the witch sweeps off her daughter’s mask and turns her to face the mirror. And as the teenager stares wide-eyed at Cindy’s countenance reflected back at her, Swindlerella proudly declares:

‘Congratulations, Princess! One month from now you will marry Prince Frank. Two years later he will become king, and shortly after that he will fall off his horse and die. When this happens, the people of the land will rise up and demand another ruler. And so it shall come to pass, that exactly four weeks after the king’s funeral, you will take his place on the throne.’ Then as the girl shudders with fright at the news, ‘Come now, child, take courage! There’s nothing to fear, you won’t go through this alone. I give you my word, Cindy – I’m going to be with you every step of the way!’

 

To be continued…

 

‘Hello friendzzz, it’s me again – Bertie the Bluebottle. And honestly, I don’t know how it happened. I just nodded off for a bit, then when I woke up again, she was gone! I mean, how could a girl just disappear like that right in front of me? There was no sound, no movement, no nothing. I promise you, if Swindlerella’s behind this she won’t get away with it. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m jolly well going to see that woman gets what’s coming to her! In fact it makes me so mad, I’m getting a real buzzz just thinking about it! Well, you’ll have to excuse me, everyone, I really need to hand this story back to Grumpkin now, and keep on looking for Cindy.’

Yes, Bertie, thanks for that, and I’m sure all my fans join with me in wishing you the very best of luck! Needless to say, it’s Grumpkin here, and just so we’re clear, it’s now around 5.45 on the afternoon after Prince Frank’s two-day festivities. It’s been pretty quiet in the house today, as Swindlerella has packed her bag and gone off to visit friends at a place called The Coven, wherever that is. Well, there’s no one here in the kitchen, so I think I’ll just slip unnoticed into the living room and see if anything interesting is going on there.

Right, I’m creeping into the room now, and – ah, yes, Cindy’s two stepsisters have just come into view. There they are sitting on the settee watching TV and eating chocolates. What a lot of chocolate boxes they’ve got scattered around, and there are dirty mugs and plates everywhere! I guess it only goes to show how much they’ve been relying on Cindy to keep the place clean. But hold on – didn’t I hear the doorbell ring? Listen, there it goes again! And while their poor visitor waits patiently outside, just take a look at those two girls arguing about who should get up and see who it is!

Well, I’m glad to say, at last a rather grouchy Dazey heaves her ample buttocks off the sofa and slouches her way to the door, sucking noisily on a mouthful of chocolate toffee. I promptly follow in her footsteps, and watch her jerk back the door to stare vacantly at the stranger on the doorstep.

‘Yes?’ she says expectantly, as a brown trickle appears at the corner of her mouth and slowly runs down her face. The caller is a young man of pleasing appearance with blond hair and sparkly blue eyes, dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt.

‘Sorry to trouble you, Miss, but I wonder if you can help me?’ he asks. ‘I’ve been searching the whole neighbourhood trying to find the person who owns this shoe.’ And with that he pulls a single glass slipper out of the bag he is carrying.

The sight of it turns Dazey white with shock. ‘Who are you, and where did you get that thing?’ she demands, eyeing the footwear with a mixture of suspicion and delight.

‘I’m sorry, I’m from the palace,’ he says. ‘The shoe was found in the grounds yesterday, during the prince’s ball. It looks quite expensive, so I’ve been sent out to try and reunite it with its owner.’

‘You have? Well, in that case you’ve come to the right place. The person who wore those shoes to the ball last night is my sister Dulley,’ she tells him, still ruminating on her chunky chocolate toffee.

‘Dulley?’ A faint twitch crosses the man’s brow, as if he somehow expected a more romantic name. ‘Oh, yes of course, well, if it’s your sister’s shoe…’

‘Well, Mister, do you want to stand outside all day, or are you coming in?’

‘Ah – right then, thanks very much,’ he says, stepping gingerly over the threshold.

At this I shoot straight back into the living room, taking cover in a plant pot to observe what happens next…

Now I see the man coming in behind me. He casts a dubious eye over all the mess and disorder, scrunching up his nose at the stale odour. Meanwhile Dazey calls out several times to announce their visitor, but the TV is on so loud that her sister doesn’t hear. So in an effort to get her attention, she finally grabs the remote control and presses OFF.

‘Hey, I was watching a movie! Gimme that remote!’ cries Dulley, jumping up indignantly to snatch it back. But as soon as she spots the handsome young man by the sofa, her demeanour changes markedly – and so does her accent. ‘Oh, I say, Dazey… you quite forgot to mention that we had company,’ she remarks in affected tones, making haste to plump up her hair and smooth her dress. ‘Well, hello there, Mr… Mr…’ she holds out her hand.

‘Please, just call me Francis,’ he says, shaking it warmly.

‘Oh, well then, Francis, how very nice of you to call. Do come and sit down.’ She quickly collects up all the chocolate boxes and dumps them into the corner, then pats the empty space next to her on the two-seater sofa. He gives an awkward little smile and perches uncomfortably on the outermost edge. In the meantime Dazey is finding it hard to contain herself. With great eagerness she says, ‘Francis has something for you, Dulley! Ask him to show you what’s in his bag.’

‘Really? Well, isn’t that thoughtful, I love surprises! I wonder what it can be?’ her sister exclaims. And with that she leans in towards the young man, who has the bag balanced on his knees and is already prizing it open. Then as he extracts the shoe and places it on the table, she gasps with amazement. ‘My slipper! I don’t believe it, you’ve found my glass slipper!’

‘So it really is yours, then?’ he asks. (And is it me, or do I detect just a smidgen of disappointment in his question?)

‘Oh, absolutely! It came off in the middle of the Blue Danube Waltz, while I was dancing with the prince himself! I think it must have got kicked under some furniture, because I searched for it afterwards but couldn’t find it anywhere.’

‘The Blue Danube Waltz?’ (Now it’s Francis who has turned white.) ‘I remember that dance, Dulley. You stumbled and almost fell over, yet you still managed to keep dancing. I thought that someone had knocked into you, you never said you lost your shoe. Then soon after that you excused yourself, and before I knew it you rushed home without even saying goodbye…’

‘Oh – I don’t believe it, it’s you, isn’t it… you’re Prince Frank,’ whispers the stunned Dulley, clapping her hands to her face.

‘Yes,’ says he, ‘and two days ago I fell very much in love with a girl who wore a pair of shoes just like this one. She also had on a white satin dress with a purple cloak, just as you did yesterday. So what I need you to tell me now, is – are you really that girl?’

‘Yes, yes, of course I am!’ she cries joyfully.

‘Then Dulley, my love, would you mind very much if I ask you a favour?’

‘Oh, no, ask anything you like. Nothing is too much trouble for you, dearest!’

‘Well, then, what I would really like more than anything in the world is to see you dressed in that exquisite costume again,’ he tells her amorously.

‘My costume…?’ At her response I look on in disbelief, as hardly missing a beat she shamelessly begins to embroider the lie. ‘Oh, Prince Frank, nothing would give me greater pleasure, but it can’t be today, you see, because it isn’t here. Unfortunately there were some nasty stains on it and so my mother’s taken it to the cleaners. I’m sure we’ll have it back very soon, though. Perhaps I could put it on for you one day next week?’

‘Next week? Oh well, I suppose I can be patient for a just little while longer,’ he says. And as he snuggles up to her on the sofa, their voices soon drop down to a whisper.

By now I’m angry enough to burst, but unfortunately I can’t intervene. That’s because I’ve just seen Bertie again, and he’s making clear signs for me to keep out of sight. I’m not sure what he’s up to, but he appears to be guiding a white moth over to the table and leading her to a glass with a tiny drop of blue liquid in the bottom. I’m sorry, fans, I don’t have a clue what’s going on, but it looks to me like the moth is actually drinking the blue stuff, and –

WOW! What just happened?

The moth is gone, and in her place stands Cindy, resplendent in her white satin dress and tiara! Now Dulley recoils with shock, her face the very picture of dismay. Prince Frank is speechless as he contemplates this vision, taking in every last enchanting detail. At length his eyes travel down to Cindy’s one and only imperfection – her shoeless right foot… So he takes the glass slipper that was worn only yesterday by her treacherous stepsister, and stooping to lift the bare foot from the floor, gently slips it inside. But to everyone’s shock, it is suddenly lost in this cavernous space. Four humans now stare at the mismatched shoes on Cindy’s feet, the right one so much larger than the left that it hardly seems possible they could once have been a pair.

Then it happens. Just like that – quick as lightning – the glass slipper on her right foot snaps to size. And now the truth is out! Recognising each other at last, Prince Frank and Cindy fall into one another’s arms, so happy that they are actually laughing with joy. But exposed once and for all as the liar she really is, the deceitful Dulley hurries away in tears, followed closely by her accomplice Dazey.

Well, would you believe it, fans – a fairytale ending like this has actually been achieved by none other than a common house fly! Hats off to to you, Bertie, I’m sure you’ll go down in history for that great job! Meanwhile, of course, now that our adventure is over it would hardly be discreet for me to spy on the young couple any more, so in the circumstances I think I’ll tiptoe quietly off to the kitchen for a nice cooked supper and an early night.

‘Right you are, Grumpkin, I’m well overdue for a snoozzze myself. I’ll just sample some of this lovely chocolate that the girls have left on the floor, then I’ll go ahead and take forty winks on that lampshade up there. Well, sweet dreams to you all, and nightie night!

‘Hey, wait a minute…

‘Wakey, wakey – news flash, everyone! Sorry to be whispering, you’ll see why in a moment. Not sure how long I’ve been asleep, but I’ve just been woken by a rather wonderful sight. From my vantage point up here on the lampshade I can now see Prince Frank getting down on one knee in front of Cindy, who seems quite overcome with emotion. She’ll say yes, of course she will! Oh, izzzn’t that marvellous, what a privilege it is to witness this special occasion! Well, don’t know about you, friends, but speaking for myself I’m starting to feel quite emotional. I’m not catching any words from her yet, but… oh, darn that stupid clock, it’s started chiming twelve, and I really can’t hear anything now!

‘Hang on, I must have blinked and missed something. Cindy isn’t here! But where could she go so quickly? I remember Prince Frank glancing down at his pocket to pull out a ring. And then I remember him looking up again one second later, only to find her gone. I promise you, there’s just no way in the world that’s possible – and yet it’s true!

‘I listen as he calls her name, and follow him as he rushes from the room. He believes she’s simply overwhelmed and can’t be far away. But she is neither in the kitchen nor the hallway, nor can she be found upstairs. Fearing that she’s left the house, he now wrenches open the front door, still crying out to her. And then at long last I look on with alarm, as – hearing nothing in reply – the distraught prince runs out into the night and slams the door behind him.

‘It is only now, dear friends, that what has befallen Cindy finally becomes clear. For there by the handle, in the very place where the door has just banged into the doorframe, I see a small white moth caught by her wing –

‘And she is barely alive…’

To be continued…

 

Installed at last in my coachman’s seat, high and lifted up above the street I clung fast to the reins and cracked my whip with a resounding snap over the horses’ backs. Then in a flash we were off! We seemed to be flying over the ground as houses, trees, clouds and sky whizzed past us with the speed of light, and before long a wee dot appeared on the horizon. The dot uncoiled itself like a waking serpent, and slowly stretched its body upwards and outwards, shape shifting into a magnificent tear-shaped palace adorned with many exotic domes. As we drew up on the driveway, a footman in scarlet livery approached the door to help Cindy down and escort her inside… and then within a few short moments she was gone.

One hour passed, then two. All the while I was getting more and more hungry, but despite the lavish banquet prepared for royal guests at the palace, no one offered anything to the coachmen waiting outside. I mean, really, what kind of class distinction was this? After all, servants are people too and none of us live on air, do we! However I was eventually distracted by a succession of rather lovely young ladies arriving for the festivities, as a result of which the remaining hours till midnight slipped by very much more pleasantly.

Then before I knew it, I became aware of a figure clothed in white hurrying towards me, and realised with a start that it was Cindy. As I opened the door to let her back in, I couldn’t help noticing how her face shone with joy.

‘Oh, Grumpkin, I danced with Prince Frank all night, and I really think he likes me!’ she said, pausing to share her excitement. ‘We talked for hours about so many things, especially horses, which I love. His favourite mare was refusing to eat, so he took me to see her. I could tell right away what was wrong, she was missing her foal that had been taken away to be hand reared. So when he heard this he gave the order for it to be returned to her, and in no time at all she was back to her normal self and eating again. Now the prince says I’m the best horse whisperer in the whole kingdom!’

‘That’s great, I’m really glad for you, Cindy!’ I said. ‘But it’s nearly midnight, and we need to get a move on if I’m going to get you home before the magic stops.’

‘Of course, Grumpkin, we can talk properly later,’ she said happily, climbing in and reclining against the soft upholstery.

So with that I jumped onto my seat, grabbed the reins, and snapped the whip sharply to launch the carriage on its homeward journey.

Well, it seemed that no sooner had we departed the palace grounds than we were already pulling up outside Swindlerella’s house. And then, as if in a puff of smoke, all of a sudden we found our bodies restored to their former shape and returned to the kitchen. I can tell you, fans, that was some shock to the system, and naturally quite exhausting! It’s no wonder, then, that I went straight to bed and fell into a deep sleep which lasted till the evening of the next day. But unknown to myself, while I was sleeping someone else was wide awake and brewing up some witching herbs in an old tea kettle till their juices turned deep blue. And being that I wasn’t around to see the events that ensued, the next part of our story is taken up by our fly-on-the-wall witness, Bertie the Bluebottle.

‘Bzzz, hi everyone – I’m Bertie your flying news reporter, working undercover as just one of the many thousands of plain and ordinary house flies bugging homes like yours right across the globe. Well, what a story this izzz, isn’t it! What I can tell you from the start is that this Swindlerella woman is definitely not what she seemzzz – not that she seems that great to begin with, of course, but what we’re talking about here is really nothing short of pure evil… and if you have any doubts about that, just hear all the thingzzz she did while Grumpkin was asleep!

‘For starters, what on earth was she concocting in that kettle? Whatever it was, it smelled terrible and came out of the spout inky blue. Then as I watched her, she poured the stuff into a thick jug to cool, waving her arms over it with circular motions and muttering some kind of strange incantation. After this she transferred it into a glass, then went over to the oven where she switched it for an identical glass of blue liquid that had been hidden inside it. Finally she took this identical glass and stashed it at the back of a cupboard in the next room. What was she up to? Well, whatever it was, it was clearly bad newzzz, wasn’t it, so I naturally decided to track her every move till I got to the bottom of it.

‘But to my great frustration, for the rest of the night and most of the next day, nothing unusual happened to anyone in the house. I soon began to wonder if I was wrong about Swindlerella. As implausible as it seemed, perhaps after all she was just a harmless eccentric? I still kept up the surveillance, though, and given what was about to unfold, it was a jolly good job I did – because shortly before six in the evening, everything suddenly changed.

‘The witch locked Cindy in the kitchen and retired to the living room with her two daughterzzz, one of whom was done up to the nines and made to look like a pop star. I think her name was Dazey, or something like that. Anyway, the other one, called Dulley, was in her normal clothes with no makeup or anything. That was when Swindlerella went back to the cupboard where she had hidden the glass of blue potion… and while I looked on, just as the clock struck six, she gave it to Dulley to drink.

‘Well, the transformation was instant! Instead of jeanzzz and a sweater, the teenager was now clad from head to foot in a beautiful white satin dress. A diamond tiara gleamed in her hair, and her face was hidden from view by a close fitting silver mask, studded with jewels. Falling from her shoulders was a magnificent purple cloak, and as my eyes journeyed downwards, a pair of glass slippers appeared out of the air and magically grew till they swallowed her feet. Then quick as a blink the youngster vanished!

‘This was such a shock that I flew all over the house trying to find her, but to no avail. By the time I got back to the living room, Dazey was gone, too, and her mother was sitting eyes closed in an armchair, mumbling another incantation. And then I remembered Cindy! Was she still in the kitchen? Was she okay? Zooming off to look for her, I somehow squeezzzed myself into the next room through the crack under the door. As I buzzed around for a bit to get my bearings, it took a moment or two to make out exactly what I was seeing in the dark. Then little by little my focus homed in on a girl stretched out on the floor.

‘Well, I was devastated, wasn’t I! I spent the next few minutes circling round and round in a panic, wondering what in the world I should do to revive her. But of course there’s very little a fly really can do in that situation, so I finally had to settle for watching over her from my elevated viewpoint on the table. Thus it was that while I stood guard over Cindy in the kitchen, Grumpkin the coachman drove Dulley to the prince’s ball. And this, dear friendzzz, is his account of what happened next…’

Yes, fans, it’s me again – and I can tell you right now, I’m absolutely livid! As that girl got into my carriage I was already beginning to sense something amiss, but couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Then after we drew up outside the palace, a footman opened the door to escort her inside, and something about that just didn’t seem right. My eyes followed her as she waddled across the courtyard, yanking up her dress on both sides so it wouldn’t trip her up. Then at last came the moment of truth. As she eventually lost her footing and fell, swearing loudly while three more footmen ran to her aid, I felt a most horrible lurch inside. Surely this couldn’t be Cindy! I mean, Cindy was such an elegant, educated person, and she’d never ever been heard to swear… so that was when I was forced to ask some serious questions:

If this wasn’t her, then where in heaven’s name was she, and who was this shameless impostor?

Well, as to what transpired later in the palace, I’ve been reliably informed by three uniformed members of the Wasp Police Force that Prince Frank did indeed dance with this individual, who looked in every way like the young girl he fell in love with the night before. However he is reported to have later confided in friends that her voice was not as he remembered it, and more baffling still, that she now seemed to have a complete lack of empathy with horses.

Meanwhile, with only sixty five seconds to spare till midnight, I watched as Cindy’s impersonator puffed and hobbled her way back to the carriage minus her right shoe. There was just time for me to slam the door after her, swing myself onto my seat and then grab the reins, before we were off!

Next moment – in what for all the world felt like just a split second of time – there I was in the kitchen again, as if absolutely nothing had happened. I was back in my hole in the wall. The mice were back in theirs. The watermelon was back on the table, and only one thing in the scene had changed…

The girl who we knew as Cindy was nowhere at all to be found.

To be continued…

 

Well, fans, I really don’t know what it is about me and watermelons, but it seems that whenever I eat any, I always have the most vivid dreams. Take yesterday, for instance. I had just consumed a splendid meal of tuna and macaroni salad topped with tomato sauce, and rounded this off with a lovely great hunk of pink watermelon. But afterwards I fell asleep, and before I knew it I found myself in an alternate reality where, believe it or not, I would soon play a pivotal role in a magical story of love…

As the dream began, I peered out of a hole in somebody’s kitchen wall to see what appeared to be some family preparations for a big event. It soon became clear that the woman in charge – aptly named Swindlerella – was the mother of two rather plain and obtuse girls called Dazey and Dulley. Swindlerella also had a beautiful stepdaughter by the name of Cindy, whom she hated. To disadvantage this stepdaughter in favour of her own girls, she gave her nothing but cast-offs to wear and made her do all the housework and cooking. But Cindy was as clever as she was beautiful, and each night when the others went to bed she would go online and secretly educate herself in all manner of subjects to train her mind. She hoped that by doing this she might one day escape her horrible stepmother and run away.

Meanwhile news had arrived that the king’s eldest son, Prince Frank, was looking for a bride, and for this purpose he would hold a fancy dress ball to which all the single young ladies of the land were invited. The ball was to last two days, at the end of which time the prince would publicly announce his engagement to the girl who pleased him the best. Knowing this, Swindlerella planned to send her two gormless daughters to the ball dressed as pop stars, in hopes that one of them would be chosen as the prince’s future bride. So when this first night of the ball arrived, she packed the glitzy Dazey and Dulley off to the palace in a taxi, and then tied Cindy to a kitchen chair so she wouldn’t try to go too.

Peeping out from my hole in the wall, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Cindy, all alone in the kitchen and now starting to cry. So quick as a wink I climbed up behind her and chewed long and hard on the ropes till at last they fell off her wrists. Then as the poor girl turned to see her rescuer, she gasped at the sight of a white rat in a jacket and bow tie beaming up at her from the floor.

‘Lord Grumpkin of Grumblemore, at your service,’ I told her proudly. ‘Glad to be able to help you, Cindy.’

‘Oh, thank you, little friend, you’ve just saved me from the misery of a cold and hungry night!’ she exclaimed. ‘Tell me, how can I repay you for such a kind deed?’

‘Think nothing of it, I’m only too glad to have been of assistance,’ said I. ‘Although of course, a slice of watermelon wouldn’t go amiss,’ I added, spying a large ripe fruit on the kitchen table.

‘Well, you’ve certainly earned that, Lord Grumpkin,’ declared Cindy, reaching for a knife to cut it with. ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am not to be tied to that chair. But of course, it makes no difference really, I’m still a prisoner here. It’s just so unfair that I can’t go to the prince’s ball!’

‘I don’t understand it, your stepmother must be a very cruel person to treat you this way,’ I said sympathetically. ‘If there was anything I could do to get you there, I’d take you myself.’

‘I’m sure you would, Grumpkin. But don’t worry, I’m pretty used to missing out on things by now. It’s no big deal, I’ll just sit quietly at home till the others get back.’

But at that very instant there was a blinding flash of light, and a wondrous creature appeared before us. She was dressed in floaty garments of pink, purple and turquoise, and hovered in the air by means of luminous wings that shone like soap bubbles in sunlight. I and the girl stood rooted to the spot as she answered our unspoken questions.

‘Don’t be afraid, Cindy, I’m Grace, your fairy godmother,’ she said with a warm smile. ‘For many years I’ve watched you suffer patiently at the hands of Swindlerella, but don’t despair, because your suffering will soon be ended. I’ve come here today to reward you for your courage and to use my magic powers to grant you one wish. Name anything you like, and I will give it to you.’

‘What? Is this for real, or am I dreaming…?’ murmured the girl in amazement.

‘No, it’s absolutely real, you have my word,’ the fairy replied. ‘Now, what is the one thing in all the world that you wish for? Whatever it is, name it, and it will be yours tonight!’

‘Well, I… I…’ Cindy was still too shocked to speak.

‘Erm, perhaps I might be able to help,’ I suggested, stepping boldly forward to address the fairy godmother. ‘As you may know, Grace, Prince Frank is looking for a bride, and so starting from tonight he’s holding a fancy dress ball which will carry on for two days. All the single young ladies in the kingdom are invited, but Cindy’s stepmother won’t let her go. She’s totally devastated! Can you help her?’

‘Oh, dear, what a pity, my sort of magic normally loses its power after one day,’ said the fairy. ‘But never mind, give me a moment and I’ll see if I can come up with a solution.’ For a little while there was a faint tinkling sound, like the music of wind chimes, as Grace undertook some pretty tricky mental arithmetic. And then, ‘Got it!’ she announced at last. ‘All right, Cindy, this is how we’re going to do it. Now fetch me two clean glasses…’

As the girl hurried to obey, I stared on in wonder. First the fairy godmother muttered some words over the glasses, which immediately filled with ice-blue liquid. Next she gave Cindy the following instructions:

‘In a bit I’m going to ask you to drink one of these,’ she said, ‘but before that I want you to put the other one in a safe place so you can drink it at exactly 6pm tomorrow night. Be very sure to put it where no one else can find it.’

‘No problem, I’ll just pop it in the oven. Nobody else but me ever does any cooking,’ replied the youngster. And it was no sooner said than done.

‘Right, now I want you to listen very carefully. In order to make one day’s magic stretch to two, you’re only going to be able to appear in your party persona from six until twelve o’clock on both evenings. That means you’ll have to make absolutely sure that you leave the ball before midnight. I can’t emphasise this enough, Cindy, there’s really no margin for error here! You must realise that as soon as the clock starts to chime twelve, you and everyone with you will be changed back into your present form.’

The girl was mystified. ‘I don’t understand, Grace. What does changing back into my present form mean?’

But the fairy was no longer listening. Instead she ordered Cindy to pick up the glass, and began counting down the seconds till 6pm. Then at precisely six o’clock the potion was swallowed, and in a startling flash of light everything was altered. Cindy’s old clothes vanished, leaving her attired in a white satin dress and a purple cloak trimmed with fur. Her head was crowned with a diamond studded tiara, and her face shielded by a bejewelled mask to hide her identity. Out of nowhere came slippers made of finest glass, snapping magically to the size of her tiny feet. And before she had time to wonder how she would get to the ball, the watermelon became a stagecoach, six little house mice morphed into horses, and everyone including myself suddenly transferred to the road outside the house. But something was wrong. Grace and the others were all calling out to me, urging me to respond by some sort of action. Puzzled, I directed my gaze to my own reflection in a window, only to get the shock of my life. Grumpkin the Rat was a rat no more, and the moustachioed man now staring back at me was a coachman clad in full ceremonial regalia!

However, so excited were we to find ourselves thus transformed that we were quite oblivious to a secret witness, who had been noting the fairy’s activities from the start and was quietly drinking in every last magical detail. And as we were about to discover, the consequences of that oversight would soon turn out to be very nearly fatal…

To be continued…