Keeping the Ball Rolling
This diary belongs to Lizzie Downtrodden
The year of our Lord 1736, I think
At the time of starting this journal I am almost 10 years old, or so my Dad tells me. We celebrate my birthday in the early autumn. Last year we had a cake.
Dad's the one who taught me to write when I was small. It's our secret. A lot of the other servants don't like it if they find out you know how to read and write and they don't. It can make things awkward. And then there's the other thing. Dad says that there was a time not long ago when they used to burn people for being like me. A lot of those we end up working alongside,even those we call friends, have strong feelings about it. It's why I keep that secret too. I can do most things nearly as well with the other one, but I find it so much easier to write with my left hand. So it's a double secret. I can read and write and I am left handed. Sinister, they would call it.
D ad says it's got nothing to do with why we keep moving from place to place, that it's more to do with him wanting to rise up to being a footman. He likes being an underfootman, but to be a footman would be better. Less people to boss you around, more money and better quarters. There's my future to consider, he says, talking about me.
W ithout a mother's guidance he worries about what sort of young lady I will turn into. He worries too much That's all ages away, although I sometimes wish it weren't. Perhaps people will take more notice of what I think when I'm bigger. I'm clever, or so Dad says. Not all Dads say that to their children, but he is my Dad and he's nice most of the time, so I don't know whether he really means it or not. I think he does. I can read and write after all.
Sunday - I wish I was as good at running as Dad. I can run nearly as fast as him for a short while, but he can do it for hours. Maybe when I get taller, I'll be able to do it. Maybe my legs will be as long as his then Or maybe they will be short like he says my Mum's were. He says I'm already pretty like her, but I can't really remember her. I tried again last night. I tried for over an hour. I tried till my head hurt between my eyes. The harder I try, the less clear her memory seems to become. That can't be right, can it? I'm going to try again tonight.
Tewsday - I wish we didn't have to move about so much. Dad said it was time again. I liked the last house we were at. I t had a pond all round the outside. Dad says that's called a moat, when it goes all round a house like that. I used to like watching the dragonflies, when nobody else was about. I don't like it when they buzz by my head though. They go really fast. Not as fast as Dad can run though. I saw him trying to catch a rabbit for our supper. I was glad it got away. Onion soup again tonight. Dad says it doesn't make him farty like it does me, but I heard him do a really big one, when he thought I was asleep. I got the giggles and he told me it wasn't him and to go back to sleep. He said it must have been a passing badger on the other side of the hedge we were camped down by. Then I heard it again and he said that must be the badger's wife. We both laughed until we were crying. I wonder if Mums fart.
Thursday - It rained all day. I don't like walking so much in the rain. My legs get so muddy. It's all right for Dad. He has long boots. I wish I had long boots. His boots are too big for me though not as too big as they used to be. Dad says that when he can afford to get a new pair, I can have this pair. By that time, they might fit better. By that time they'll be really stinky though. Dad's feet get really pongy. Maybe it's all the running he does behind carriages. I wish I could run as fast as Dad.
Friday - Sill raining. Dad says it's not too far now, but we need to keep going or he might not be there in time to get the job. He also says that it's much shorter going cross country like we are. That's all right for him to say with his long legs and long boots.
Tewsday - Stopped raining at last. Dad made a fire in the morning to cook some onions and we had a potato to share. I love it when we have a potato. He made me go to the brook and have a wash while our clothes dried a bit by the fire. While I was having a wash I heard a funny noise behind me and got scared. Dad has warned me about wolves and wild boars. I saw a man who lost half his leg after being attacked by a boar once. I Climbed up a tree a bit just in case. I only got down when Dad's calling got a bit angry. When I explained he wasn't so cross. He told me he reckoned it was the farty badger following us because he wanted some onion soup. My Dad's funny.
Friday - Got to the edge of the estate today, Dad says. Some workers who smelled of ale, traded us a loaf of oaty bread for a couple of the squirrels we caught yesterday. Dad didn't think I saw him slip a coin to the men for some ale. He's always telling me how careful we have to be with money. I was cross with him all the rest of the day and he doesn't know why. How are we ever going to find Mum if he keeps spending the money?
The stew was extra nice tonight and I couldn't stay cross. Dad was in a really good mood and told me that story about the bed and the seven peas again. It's one of my favourites, and he always makes it funny by pretending to be the characters, like one of those travelling players we saw once. He wanted me to pretend to me the cat, but that's the funniest bit he does, so I said I'd rather be the stuffy footman. I was just bending forward to put the peas under the mattress, when an owl screeched in the darkness behind me. After he stopped laughing, Dad said he didn't recall the part where the butler jumped over the bed screaming, but it will have to be included every time now. I couldn't catch him to hit him, while he kept pretending to be a leaping, screaming footman. I wish my legs were longer. Dad wants to be a real footman one day.
Saturday - Dad was really grumpy this morning. He stayed up a bit after I went to bed. Breakfast was just some of the leftover bread and I brewed nettle tea. At least we had breakfast today. We don't always. When we're on the road like now, a lot depends on luck. It should be better now we're nearly there. More farms to barter at. Dad says he'll try and get us some eggs later. I love eggs. I think eggs are my favourite. I wish we had our own chicken. Then I could have eggs whenever I wanted. Dad too of course. He likes eggs nearly as much as me.
By mid morning, Dad was getting in a better mood. I could tell because he started making owl noises, and looking around like there really was an owl. At first I thought there was, because I didn't see him do it. Then he started leaping in the air each time holding his bottom and looking like he'd been stung there. I bit my lip not to laugh and looked up in the overhanging trees. We carried on like this for while, until a real bird swooped out of somewhere and nearly went off with Dad's hat. Then Dad kept pretending to be really, really scared and I had to beg him to stop, because I couldn't breathe for laughing. And that's when we met Harry. I'll have to write about him tomorrow because the fire's burning low.
Wednesday - So much has happened. I hope I have enough ink. Dad likes Harry. I can tell. I reckon Harry likes Dad too. Yes it was a fib for him to tell us he was a falconer, but it was a nice fib. It wasn't a fib about the him exercising the falcon. I wouldn't have known who he was the way he talked with us all friendly like. Dad would never have said the things he did to him and in the way he did if he'd known. And he's not as old as I expected. Dad reckons he's not even twenty yet. It's not fair he's been cursed like that either. Not with him being as nice as he is and all. When Harry showed us to the house, walking with his horse, and we saw it for the first time, Dad and I just looked at each other and smiled. Not only was it enormous like we expected, it had three uneven towers like Dad always described in the Princess and the Pea story. Dad winked and I knew this must be where it happened. Harry saw me smiling and looked pleased. He looks so much better when he smiles. You hardly notice his lip then. You can't help noticing his ears though. Or his teeth. And his feet aren't exactly small. But none of that matters.
He was just really nice to us. He even shared the bit of venison pie he had with us . Maybe that should have given us a clue. Or how nice his boots were, though very dirty.
But he talked to all the tenant farmers we came across like they were his best friends. With servants at the house it was the same. He showed us to some unused quarters down lots of stairs and said he'd try to get word with to old Queen, whose house this was, and that he was in favour and had some small influence.
He took us up into an enormous panelled room , full of carved furniture with plush fabric seats and suits of armour. In the middle was the biggest table I've ever seen. I think a hundred people could eat their supper at it all at once. The feet look like real animals feet turned to wood.
The old Queen has a very stern face. Stern and wrinkled. Two ladies, no longer young themselves followed close behind holding her skirts up off the floor. They had expensive shoes that weren't suitable for running in. The Queen moves very fast for an old lady. At first I was a bit confused why the two ladies who couldn't run, curtsied to Harry. Then Harry leant close to the Queen and said something quietly into her ear. She frowned. Then he leant toward the Queen and said something else , before glancing back at the two ladies. They curtsied again.
Dad tugged my sleeve so I looked at him. His face was pale. He had his hat in in hands and was bowing in honour of the Queen. He looked at Harry and bowed a bit lower. I thought Dad had picked an odd time to start fooling about, but I decided to play along. I'm awful at curtsies, so I made sure I did a real stinker. It was so bad I almost fell over, sniggering as I did so. The Queen tutted very loudly. I looked across at Dad. is face looked like it did after a piping hot poultice fell down his breeches. Only it was white, not red. Something was wrong.
Harry isn't how I expected a Prince to be at all. He's much nicer. Dad says he wouldn't have got a job at all if Harry hadn't insisted. His Grandmother had looked at Dad down her nose for a long time before she tutted and said she supposed we'd be needed in the next few weeks, but not to expect the post to be permanent. Second Underfootman was nearly as good as first Underfootman if you learn to get on with the Footman. All the more so if you're a good runner. Dad is a very, very good runner.
More than likely this is far too long winded and far too dull, but then it was a first draft. I still think the germ of the idea is sound, if the approach can be got right. It provides the opportunity not only to illustrate the fairy tale but to develop the characters and their story at the same time. I'm not saying this is the right vehicle for our collaboration, but if we could come up with something more appealing to everybody that offered similar diversity . . . . .?
Tha attached artworks were just early scribbles for it.
