Clatter.
It fell to the floor.
What was I doing wrong? I wondered. I passed my fingertips along the base of the mirror. I don’t know if I was searching for a button or just seeing if I could “feel” the atmosphere change. Again, I felt nothing and heard nothing, except for the faint meow of Bob or Maggie beyond the kitchen door, probably sensing my presence.
Come on, Rosemary, I willed myself on. Just keep trying.
I moved the pen slightly to the left and down so it was completely parallel to the base of the mirror. As I let go, I whispered the word:
“Aradia. Aradia. Aradia”
The pen hovered and flicked its ends one way and the other, like a paper aeroplane. I gasped. The reflection in the mirror was changing. There was a rushing sound in the background, a bit like the buzz as the tube trains rush towards you on the London Underground, and there before my eyes appeared the face of a beautiful lady with flowing, jet-black hair. It tumbled below her shoulders, though I could just make out the form of a large raven sitting on her shoulder, partially covered by her hair. Her amber-coloured eyes surveyed me critically, and her full, red lips curled up slightly. I don’t know if this was in derision or amusement. I was speechless at her beauty.
When she spoke to me, she had a strong Italian accent, and the bird’s mouth opened in unison with hers as if he, too, were saying:
“This is Aradia. Name and Pentagram Identification.”
“I… I… I’m Rosemary,” I stuttered, “and I’m sorry, but I don’t have any pentagrams on me. I have a Build-A-Bear Certificate which has my name and address on it.”
The Lady stared at me. Her long, slim nose crinkled, and she scrunched her eyebrows together.
“No, no, no, no, no,” she said, her accent sounding like one of the waitresses in Luigi’s pizzeria. “You can only enter our kingdom if you can do magic. You lady, you no magical. You child. You have no Pentagram ID, so I say to you, arrivederci.” With that, her image careered backwards away from me as if hurtling into a tunnel. The whooshing sound came again, and suddenly there I was staring back at my own pinched face.
Had this just really happened? I glanced at the digital display on the phone handset and, yes, it was now 12:05pm, so only about fifteen minutes after I had crept from my bed. I couldn’t possibly have been dreaming. I gently opened the kitchen door, wanting to feel something solid and comforting, and felt the warm fur of one of our cats zig-zag in and out of my legs. I crouched down and picked up the soft bundle.
How on earth was I going to get into the world beyond the mirror without being “magical”? I was no more magical than a pair of pants. I couldn’t even do a simple card trick! Mind you, I think the lady in the mirror, Aradia, as she called herself, was looking for something slightly more spectacular than that.
I wondered whether I could ask Frances for help, but something told me they would deny the existence of Aradia. They would put it all down to a party trick. I would have to sleep on it and hope that Adi had a good plan tomorrow.
That night I slept fitfully. My dreams were full of beautiful ladies called Aradia with long, flowing hair but evil tiger-coloured eyes that looked right through me. I woke with a start, sticky with sweat. I must have looked a little rough, for Mum took one look at me and immediately put her hand to my brow.
“Rosie, are you feeling okay? You’re very flushed looking. Let me take your temperature…”
“I’m fine, Mum, honestly. Just had a few bad dreams that’s all.”
I did feel okay, just a bit tired, and you know that feeling when you wake up and the dream was so vivid you sort of feel you are still living it, or that it somehow really DID happen? Well that. Plus, I had to see Adi to tell him what had happened last night.
Once dressed, I scampered down the stairs and, just I was walking into the kitchen, I heard Mum shout, “Mind as you go in, Bob’s had a fit just inside the door.”
I lifted my feet up, grimacing at their sticky wetness, and sighed with the knowledge that I had just stepped in his wee. It was going to be one of those days.
“Thanks for warning me, Lois.” I scowled at my little sister who was already in the rocking chair munching her way through a warm angry pig, as we call them in our house. (I always used to pronounce croissant phonetically, and Lois thought I was saying “cross oink”, so we altered it to the more user friendly “angry pig”.)
“Actually, I didn’t know what you were doing,” she whinged with her mouth full.
Mum followed closely behind me. She must have known, as she was holding a flannel. “Sit down, Rosemary, and let me just wipe your feet, and then perhaps I can clean up this mess, if I ever manage to get time.”
Suddenly, Dad’s lanky figure appeared in the doorway.
“Watch where you’re walking,” Mum and I chimed just as Dad also stepped straight in Bob’s wee.
I could tell Dad was not happy. He didn’t actually say anything, he just did a big sigh and peeled his socks off his feet, threw them in the direction of the washing machine, and turned to go back upstairs.
I didn’t see Frances or any of the other house guests this morning, as Dad was taking us to school, which was a bit of a treat really, as usually he was gone by 8 o’clock to get his train. I could see his cloud clearly above his head, still dark grey, and the colours surrounding him were maroon and dull mauve, almost like a bruise. The colours seemed to throb and pulsate like they do in the cartoons when someone bangs their head. If that was indicative of how he was feeling, I felt sorry for him.
Mum, still in her dressing gown, tried to pull him towards her for a kiss before we left the house. He didn’t push her away, as such, but he moved his face to the side so that her lips met his cheekbone rather than his mouth.
“Are we alright now?” I heard her whisper to him.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dad replied dismissively and then turned his attention to us.
He ruffled my hair and put his arm around me. “Come on, Rosie-posie, let’s get you and the wind beneath my wings to school.”
He was smiling and trying to be jokey, but his face looked tight, as if he was finding it physically difficult to smile.
As we gathered our bags and coats, I stole a look back at my mum who was watching us leave, her arms crossed, the belt of her pink-and-blue, spotty dressing gown trailing on the floor. She looked kind of small and thin today. The colours around her were muted and hazy. I hoped by the time next week came she would be sparkling and bright.
I saw Adi in the playground and told him what had happened last night. He listened intently with his mouth slightly open, as if at any moment he was going to add something, but he didn’t.
“Well, Adi, how can we convince them that we can do magic?”
For a moment, I thought Adi had been enchanted, for he stood so still. I couldn’t even see his breath in the cold, October air. I shook his arm gently.
“Adi, have you heard what I’ve been telling you?”
At last, he brought his gaze back to me and took a deep intake of breath. “Right, I have an idea, Rosemary, but I’ll need to work on it over the weekend.”
“What sort of an idea?”
“Just wait and see, but it does definitely involve magic.”