Once upon a time, not very long ago in a land very dissimilar to ours, there lived a young woman named Delilah Seaton. Delilah had just turned nineteen. She had lived all her life with her aged Aunt on the Isle of Geilston. The island only had six inhabitants, all of whom were at least thirty years Delilah’s senior. She had recently become terribly bored, and had unfortunately discovered a romance novel, which she had read and re-read far too many times.
Delilah and her Aunt Gertrude lived in a large, old-fashioned cottage, which perched on the edge of the white cliffs above the choppy sea.
She had always loved her home, but the time had come for her to leave. As she blew out the candles of her lavender birthday cake, she realised she just couldn’t stay on Geilston anymore.
Sadly, she could not possibly tell anyone. The two groomsmen would never allow her to go, nor the maidservant nor Rosa the cook and especially not her Aunt. None of them – not even Rosa – would understand why anyone would want to ever leave Geilston.
Geilston was beautiful. Perfectly-trimmed green grass, all measured at two inches high. Ordered flowerbeds. Systematically a-lined trees. It only rained one day every year and it only ever snowed on Christmas day itself. It may have only been four square miles by four square miles, but everyone thought it was perfect.
‘I really have to leave.’ She whispered to herself as she unwrapped the brown paper parcel. But the trick was, how was she to accomplish this difficult task?
Late one night, after everyone had gone to bed, Delilah lay awake. She waited and waited until everyone was soundly sleeping. Then she got up, and placed a note explaining why she had to leave on her bed. She crept from her attic bedroom, down the winding spiral stairs, slipped through the kitchen and out across the field towards the sea.
From snippets of conversation she had overheard from Gareth and Gregory, the groomsmen, she knew it was several miles to Mainland, far too far for her to swim.
But she knew a secret. She knew that there was a boat, docked and hidden in the cliffs; Delilah had seen Gregory rowing it late one night.
There was not a cloud in the sky, but even with the light of the moon, Delilah stole a lantern and took it with her, as well as a few of her belongings.
She ran down the sloping hillside and began to climb across the rocks and boulders. She was pleased she’d stolen Gareth’s clothes; it was far easier to move in trousers. The boat was hidden deep inside the fourth cave that she looked in, by which point she was dripping wet; not that Delilah minded for she was far too excited.
She jumped into the water, threw her belongings into the boat and grabbed the helm, pulling it out into the open. It was far smaller than she’d remembered. She looked out across the water. It was so dark, empty and endless – but if she waited until morning the opportunity would be lost. She dragged the boat away from the shoreline and then she climbed in.
Buried in her shirt were matches – she struck one and lit the candle and a warm glow illuminated the vessel. She started to row.
Hours flitted by, with the candlewick sinking lower and lower in the lantern. There was no sign of land. Delilah stared out in front of her, her back to the retreating Geilston. The faint hint of dawn played across the water, but that didn’t make the sighting of land any easier, because there was any to be seen.
Delilah was tired, worried and feeling a little bit guilty for leaving her elderly Aunt. It was warm out on the water, and Delilah fell asleep. Much to her surprise, when she woke up, she was on board a vast ship. She gazed up at the great sails above her head; at the top she could see the dark fluttering of a pirate flag.
She sat up with a start and looked with wide-eyed excitement around the ship. Bearded men walked this way and that, swords strapped to their sides, their hats topped with plumed feathers, laughing and talking, and apparently completely unaware that a young woman lay in the middle of their ship.
‘Hello, there.’ Delilah turned to her side and looked into the eyes of a pirate. She knew he was a pirate – he had an earring in his right ear, large brown eyes, warm sun-kissed skin and a swirled moustache. He smiled broadly at her. ‘I’m Captain Hale. And you are?’
‘Delilah.’
‘How utterly charming to meet you.’
Delilah thought about her romance novel – it was a shame really that the book was so precise – for after all, a hero could only be a frog. She knew it sounded daft and it was in a way, for despite not being a princess herself, she knew she had to find her own frog prince. Still, it was a shame, for Captain Hale was a very handsome man (not that she had actually seen a lot of men).
‘Now, where are you off to m’dear?’
‘Mainland – that’s where I was heading anyway.’
He laughed. ‘You were drifting off into the sea. It’s just as well we found you.’
‘Oh that’s so kind of you.’
‘It’s just your luck that we are heading towards Mainland. We can drop you near the shoreline of Daison. I’m afraid we can’t take you too close, we notorious pirates after all.’
‘Oh thank you very much.’ She said, offering him her hand.
The Captain lifted Delilah to her feet and led her into the cabin. It would take several hours to reach the shore. Captain James Hale turned out to be a wonderful storyteller – he knew hundreds of myths from Greece, Andalucía, Mainland, and L.A. and one in particular stuck in Delilah’s head. It was about a fairy who lived in the village of Dall, who cast amazing spells for those who asked politely. Delilah particularly wanted to hear about that – for Dall, after all, was in Mainland and maybe, just maybe, the fairy might know of a frog prince.
The Captain gave Delilah her first taste of champagne, and showed her a music box that played beautiful tunes, which one could dance to apparently. It was a shame that Captain Hale couldn’t be a hero.
By late afternoon, they had reached the shore and the pirates, who Delilah had discovered were thoroughly delightful chaps, lowered her boat down onto the water, and yelled their friendly goodbyes to her as she descended. Captain Hale had kissed her hand, and wished her the best of luck. He’d also given her a sword and a parrot called Ross for company. The Captain whispered to her that the pirate ship would be returning to the Daison shoreline soon, should she ever take a fancy to sailing. Delilah said she would consider it. After all, if it did not work out with the fairy at Dall, she might quite like pirating.
The waters were surprisingly rough, and it took great skill to weave through the sharp rocks. Ross the parrot was hardly helpful. They drew nearer and nearer to the shore, when suddenly, a jagged cluster of rocks appeared as if from nowhere and the boat careered into them. Water rushed in through the widening gash, and realising that it would be pointless to stay, Delilah grabbed her bag and jumped into the sea. Ross flew up high into the air, randomly jabbering away about nail polish. For a pirate parrot he was a novice to disaster.
Delilah’s skirts dragged her down, but she managed to tread the water. Her hands stretched up above her head to keep her belongings safe. But then, the weight of her dress started to get too much and she began to sink. On the distant beach she could make out the silhouettes of people.
‘You there!’ Warm hands cut through the waves and someone snatched her up.
Delilah decided to faint (after all, at one point the princess had done this herself). When she came to, she was lying in a beautifully - decorated bedroom. She had been placed in a grand four-poster bed, with silk curtains hanging from it, silver wallpaper, wooden cupboards, tables, chairs and a wardrobe.
‘Hello?’ She sat up in the bed and checked all around her.
The maid, who’d been tending to the fire, got up and hurried over to Delilah. ‘Oh my dear, I must fetch my master, he will be so pleased to know you’ve woken up.’ With that the girl ran from the room.
Moments later the maid returned with a worried looking young man, who walked hurriedly towards the bed.
‘I was so worried about you,’ he placed his hand on her head, stroking her curls out of the way. Turning to the maid, he asked her to fetch some warm chocolate to make his guest more comfortable.
He pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down nervously, all the time looking closely at Delilah.
‘Oh how terribly rude of me,’ he said after a moment, ‘I’ve not introduced myself – I’m Sir Jeremy Weston and you are…?’
‘Delilah Seaton.’ They awkwardly shook hands.
‘You are more than welcome to stay as long as you like. I can order another doctor if you wish to talk over your fainting spell…’
‘Thank you, but I really must be on my way.’ Delilah said as she climbed out from the bed.
‘I had the maids put your belongings by the fire,’ he gestured towards the grand fireplace. ‘Will you not at least have dinner with me, it is after all, nearly eight o’clock?’
Delilah again started to regret the rules that governed romance – this gentleman looked nothing like the pirate or a prince but he was, she reflected absolutely lovely, if that term could be implied to a man. He had green eyes – that were soft, and his hair was golden and fell about his face almost like ringlets. It was a shame he wasn’t a frog prince…
‘I can stay for tea, but then I really must be getting on my way. I apologise Sir Weston.’
‘Do call me Jeremy, my dear.’
They met downstairs in Sir Jeremy’s marvellously appointed suite and drank tea. They discussed novels, although Sir Jeremy was not overly qualified since he did not enjoy literature but he was a keen scientist.
‘I am training to be a doctor, you see, Daison doesn’t receive many visitors accept the wounded and the returning sailors and I enjoy helping the sick – ’ He continued about his work – especially in regards to his treatment of sickly children, until Delilah stood up and stated regretfully that she really had to leave.
He lent her his sister’s horse Sally, and as they stood in the stables he told her that should she ever wish to return to Daison, he would be more than happy to see her again. Delilah thanked him once more, and Sir Jeremy tenderly kissed her forehead. It was a great shame he was not a frog, and therefore could never be a hero.
She rode off into the night. As well as the horse, Sir Jeremy had given Delilah the directions towards Dall and her head was full of fairies and the possibility of her frog prince. The countryside changed from the seaside village and spread out before Delilah and her horse – the landscape of open fields, wide rivers, cherry and pizza trees, and above this beauteous outlook were the stars and moons. As they came closer to one river, Sally spooked and poor Delilah was thrown from the saddle and landed uncomfortably on the grass. She lay there for a while feeling a little discombobulated.
‘What are you doing down there?’ A voice called out. Delilah glanced this way and that, and when she strained her eyes she saw a beautiful white horse advancing towards her. Sat atop this beast, was a man. He wore a mask, and was dressed entirely in black.
Delilah jumped up, ‘You’re a highwayman.’
The man climbed off the horse and bowed deeply, ‘I am indeed. I am famous in these parts. I’m surprised someone did not warn you about me.’
‘I’m afraid they did not.’
‘In that case – I am Charlie Heliotrope.’ Again he bowed his head respectfully.
‘I’m Delilah.’ She checked around her, and saw that Sally rather like Ross had disappeared. ‘Can you help me?’
Charlie looked rather taken aback, ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘I’m trying to get to the village of Dall, do you know where it is?’
‘Yes it’s not far from here… tell you what, I will take you there.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’
He stretched out his hand towards Delilah and she took it and swung up onto the horse. He then climbed up in front of her. ‘Wrap your arms around my waist.’
After a few minutes Delilah lent her head against his back. He was incredibly warm. It was an odd scenario – she felt safe, yet Delilah could see his gun strapped to his leg. She decided to ask him about his robberies. He told her about his younger brother who suffered terribly because of a family sickness – that was why Charlie robbed the rich. When he wasn’t stealing – he really liked to paint.
‘Maybe one day I’ll sell a painting and I’ll be able to give up the robberies.’
They talked about his paintings – he liked to draw forests, and that was why he was happy to go to Dall – it was famed for its beautiful scenery.
‘Here we are,’ he announced. Delilah peered over his shoulder to take in the view of Dall. The fairy kingdom she’d spent the whole day imagining.
‘It’s magical.’ She said.
Charlie climbed off the horse and then helped Delilah down.
‘Can I see your face?’ She asked, trying to peer behind his mask. She wondered if perhaps he might have once been a frog, and could be her prince.
He lifted his fingers and untied the strings that held his mask in place. His hair was cropped and was pale brown. In the moonlight Delilah could tell his eyes were the brightest blue. He had a tiny scar that crossed over his lip – perhaps he had been in a duel.
She smiled up at him, ‘I should like to see your paintings at some point.’
They began to walk into the village of Dall. Everything floated five inches off the floor, no one quite knew why. There were wells at each and every street corner because the fairies liked their water. Delilah left Charlie admiring the greenery.
‘Good bye, and thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’ Charlie said gazing happily down at Delilah, ‘one day I would be very happy to show you my paintings.’
‘Excellent.’
Fleetingly he kissed her cheek, and Delilah hurried away before she got distracted from her mission to find the fairy enchantress.
It wasn’t hard to find the grand white meringue castle, which sprang up in the centre of the kingdom – the mushy edible sides surrounded by a lush forest that Charlie would be delighted to painting. Delilah walked through the forest, which wasn’t as scary or thorny as her book had told her it would be, and then across the drawbridge.
There in the centre of the mesh white dome stood a fairy. Other than the dome everything was pink – of various different shades; rose, warm beige, scarlet, blush, cherry – even the fairy enchantress was a tad pinkish. Delilah had no doubts in her mind that this was the fabled creature. Cautiously she walked closer. ‘Excuse me,’ she said.
The fairy turned and smiled vaguely ‘Hello dear.’
Delilah suddenly realised how tired she was and how far she had travelled, and how much she missed female company. She hugged the fairy and then stepped back and said, ‘My name is Delilah and I’m looking for my prince.’
‘Charming?’ The fairy waved towards one of the doors, as if gesturing for someone.
‘You mean a person?’
‘Of course, aren’t you here for Prince Charming?’
‘No.’
‘The beast?’
‘No – ’
‘Well I have a limited number of princes on the market and I – ’
‘I want the frog.’
‘Why didn’t you say so earlier?’
The fairy grabbed Delilah’s hand and pulled her towards a ornately decorated door, which swung open lazily as they entered a small room. It featured only a golden well and had bright purple walls. There perched on the rim of the well was a frog. Delilah edged closer – he looked really rather slimy.
‘I’ll leave you to it.’ The fairy said joyfully.
Delilah bent down and stared at the frog.
‘Ribbit.’ Well he wasn’t a talking frog that much was clear.
Delilah emptied her back and fished out from amongst her belongings the towel, and wiped off most of the yucky pondweed and water from the frog’s back.
She bent again and kissed the frog – the room split open – light shot this way and that and Delilah was thrown back from the well. When she opened her eyes, there stood the prince. He was green and small and was staring mournfully at the well.
‘Why did you have to turn me? I liked being a frog. And,’ he added looking at her briefly, ‘I don’t want to be a prince for you.’
‘I -’ she stammered.
‘I’m going to ask Imelda to turn me back,’ and with that, the short lisping green prince hopped from the room.
Delilah stayed where she was for quite some time. She realised that right now, more than anything she hated the romance novel she had pinched from the top shelf in her Aunt’s library. It hadn’t given her anything she wanted. In fact, she thought regretfully, that it may have actually ruined several other rather fun and interesting opportunities that the day had presented her with.
She got to her feet and snatched up the offending book, and followed the frog prince out of the room.
Imelda stood arguing in the middle of the room with the frog – or Froggy as Delilah had decided to call him. ‘I can make him change his mind, promise,’ said the fairy as Delilah joined them.
‘Don’t bother,’ Delilah ignored Froggy and walked across the pink room to the giant fireplace that stood next to the staircase. She dropped the novel into the fire and watched the pages burn, until there was nothing left. ‘Thank you for your kind offer but I am simply not interested.’
And as Delilah walked away from the castle, from Imelda the fairy and from Froggy, and into Mainland she resolved to write a realistic romance, if such a thing could be done, so that other young women would not be so easily duped…
THE END
