Samantha soon found herself adopting this blank expression for much of the school day thanks to her arch nemesis, who was having much more fun manipulating the fortunes of her new plaything than those of the hundreds of dolls she shared a room with. Samantha wasn’t the custodian of a great toy collection, but one thing she wasn’t wanting for was outdoor playtime.
When the mercury had retreated to its lowest ebb, the girl could be seen trudging through the snow, a trail of boot prints advertising to all and sundry that her mummy needed a bit more time alone than others. In the summer, she was lucky to see the inside of the house at all until the moon came out, which was when her father came to fetch her. On those days, the woodland at the end of Samantha’s street became a country estate, and she was a Princess - her cardboard crown said so. The country was at war, and it was her duty to tend the castle grounds and guard the oft-sleeping queen until the king returned from battle.
It was her land and hers alone, but there was no shortage of villains out to steal it from her. The beak-nosed Lady Millthorpe, from the neighbouring castle of number thirty-two, often threatened to send in her guards, the Welfare Brigade, to capture the princess, but the queen silenced her by sending a scroll instructing her to mind her own fucking business, lest Sir Millthorpe be made aware that his dwindling gold supply was being wagered on the steeds at Newmarket.
The estate was also home to a large family of faeries called the Dots. A favourite way to wind down after a hard-days guard duty was to chase the faeries through the shrubbery, race them from flower to flower. One sunny afternoon Princess Samantha, who could usually be seen lumbering along with the grace of a peg-legged drunk, managed to catch one of the Dots just as it was about to light upon a daisy. She bent over to catch a breath, grinning triumphantly as her chest heaved. Then something snapped.
‘Hello, Miss; you’re looking very pleased with yourself.’
The little girl pointed to the creature crawling along the end of her finger.
‘Ooh, you’ve found a ladybird! They’re lovely aren’t they, Miss?’
She nodded.
‘Oh, I do beg your pardon,’ he bowed gravely, ‘Your Highness.’
The princess grinned.
The man returned her smile and indulged her further.
‘I was taking my lady on a drive through the county in my carriage, you see, and I must have taken a wrong turn.’
The Princess’s eyes were locked onto a navy blue sleeved arm that was hanging out of the passenger side window of the carriage. The man grinned.
‘You must allow me to make amends. Tell you what, I’ll give you a lift back to your castle. Evening will be upon us soon and evil creatures roam these woods after dark.’
A horn sounded just as he extended his hand.
‘Oh, I see your carriage is here. Oh well,’ he took the princess’s hand and kissed it, ‘Good day, Your Highness.’
The girl ran in the direction of the honking, loping along. The man watched after her, waiting for the sound of the retreating engine before returning to his coach and his ‘lady.’ The girl hadn’t seen much, as far as he could tell, and for all she knew, his date could have been taking a nap. Had she been a normal, chatty girl, he would have had an additional reconnaissance and clearance mission to worry about, but he sensed there was a reason she didn’t say anything, and it wasn’t because she lacked wit.
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