The Adventures of Cherry of Zennor

High above on the cliffs of Trereen, lived the Honeys in a modest hut. The corners of each wall were crusted with limpet shells that had been clumsily decorated by their ten rambunctious children. Brightest and most scandalous of the bunch was Cherry, their only daughter, wild as a hare and named for her rosy-red cheeks, which would glow before her next act of mischief was uncovered.

 Every year she would beg her ageing mother for a frock for Morva Fair, yet she was always met with the same response; they were still far too poor for such fancies. At 16 years old, Cherry feared she might miss her chance at youthful fun altogether if she didn’t take matters into her own hands. She declared she was leaving to find work elsewhere, to earn enough money to buy one for herself. Her parents were secretly relieved to let their wild Cherry go.

 Awash with ambition, she was certain she’d travelled for many miles. Upon realising she hadn’t got very far at all, Cherry fell into an uncontrollable sadness. She collapsed onto a rock and broke into loud, hiccupping sobs. A mysterious gentleman appeared, with a bristling moustache and two pronounced teeth extending from his bottom lip. He smiled sweetly and praised her brave traveling spirit. Wiping snot from her nostrils, Cherry looked up at him in relieved disbelief – to be seen at last by a random chap in her hour of anguish was just what she needed. They both sat on the stone together for a little while. Cherry explained her predicament; she was surely too interesting for such an ordinary life. The fellow explained he was a recent widower and required a governess. The conclusion was silently obvious and so Cherry sleepily followed the gentleman. The path they trod folded and unfolded as they walked, like a grand accordion stretching its ribs. Bright flowers lit the way and filled Cherry with renewed hope.

Cherry quickly settled into her new position, which was largely made up of supervising and entertaining the gentleman’s uncanny son. She was free to treat the house as her own home…except for the room towards the back of the house, that directly led to the garden. She was not allowed to go in there. Cherry was also instructed to keep her eyes tightly shut at night; else she might witness strange happenings. She didn’t mind the odd rules, since the master of the house clearly took a shine to her and would kiss her on the forehead. She felt sure she’d be stinking rich soon enough.

 The gentleman’s son was small and yet his face bore the lines and signs of old age. She avoided looking at his eerily bleached eyes, besides when she had to apply a mysterious pink ointment onto them, which she did incredibly squeamishly. The boy’s grandmother, Prudence, looked after the house. She was so unfriendly and ugly, that Cherry took comfort in the fact that the old woman would surely die soon on account of her great age. Cherry felt wildly uncomfortable under the eagle eye of Prudence watching her every move.

 One day Prudence took Cherry and encouraged her into the forbidden room. Cherry was torn but swiftly acquiesced because she was ultimately rather curious. The room was a resplendent glass conservatory, overflowing with exotic plants and embellished with endless perfectly formed stone statues of people. Cherry gasped as her mother’s old tales came rushing back to her. She knew at once she was among the Small People. The household’s peculiarity began to make sense. Prudence insisted, with such earnestness that her neck glowed bright purple, that Cherry must polish the table at the centre of the room until it shone like a diamond. As Cherry got to work a terrible draught violently swept through the room, it felt like the statues were about to burst to life. Cherry was frightened and confused but continued smoothing out the surface. The noise became quite deafening and the gentleman rushed in to see what was unfolding in his secret conservatory. Enraged by Prudence’s meddling, he banished her from the house at once. To try to quieten Cherry’s wondering mind, he hastily made her lady of the house, hoping this would put a stop to her enquiries. It did not.

 When she was next lathering ointment into the strange boy’s eyes, she became rather fascinated by the sweet smell of it, which she had not noticed before. It smelled of the glorious flowers from the conservatory. Perhaps…she wondered, the boy’s paled eyes weren’t impaired but actually exceptional.Cherry took one more big waft of the ointment before it was decided. She would rub it all over her eyes too. After sending the boy off to count sticks or throw dice, she scooped up the pink ointment and began to feverishly rub it into her own eyes. She was a girl on fire with ideas. She rushed to the conservatory and leant down towards the keyhole to peek. To her utter horror the visions she saw her master and a whole troop of fairy folk wreaking ruckus. Cherry had long known it was dangerous to get involved in magical mischief and felt it wasn’t worth all the gold in the world to stay in this strange house. So off she went, pocketing the rose ointment, sure she could sell it for a frock to wear to Morva Fair.