Princess Mirror-Belle and the Magic Shoes Read online

  For Alyssa and Brooke

  Contents

  Chapter One

  The Magic Shoes

  Chapter Two

  The Golden Goose

  Chapter One

  The Magic Shoes

  “Hey, you! Yes, you! Turn around, look over your shoulder,” sang Ellen’s brother, Luke, into the microphone.

  Ellen was sitting in the village hall watching Luke’s band, Breakneck, rehearse for the Battle of the Bands. The hall was nearly empty, but that evening it would be packed with fans of the six different bands who were entering the competition.

  As well as being Breakneck’s singer, Luke wrote most of their songs, including this one.

  “It’s me! Yes, me! Turn around, I’m still here,” he sang. Then he wandered moodily around the stage, while the lead guitarist, Steph, played a twangy solo.

  Steph, who never smiled, wore frayed baggy black trousers with a pointless chain hanging out of the pocket and a black T-shirt with orange flames on it. The solo went on and on.

  “Steph’s so good at the guitar,” Ellen whispered to Steph’s sister Seraphina, who was sitting next to her.

  “I know,” said Seraphina. She was two years older than Ellen and dressed very much like her brother, except that her T-shirt had a silver skull on it. “But I bet they don’t win. I don’t think they should have chosen this song. It’s not going to get people dancing. Steph wrote a much better one called ‘Savage’.”

  Ellen couldn’t imagine Steph writing anything dancy, but she was quite shy of Seraphina and didn’t say so. Besides, she had just remembered something.

  “Dancing – help! I’m going to be late for ballet!” She picked up a bag from the floor.

  “You’ve got the wrong bag – that’s mine,” said Seraphina, who also went to ballet, but to a later class.

  “Sorry.” Ellen grabbed her own bag and hurried to the door.

  At least she didn’t have far to go. The ballet classes were held in a room called the studio, which was above the hall. Ellen ran up the stairs.

  The changing room was empty. The other girls must be in the studio already, but Ellen couldn’t hear any music so the class couldn’t have started yet.

  Hurriedly, she put on her leotard and ballet shoes and scooped her hair into the hairnet that Madame Jolie, the ballet teacher, insisted they all wear. Madame Jolie was very fussy about how they looked and could pounce on a girl for the smallest thing, such as crossing the ribbons on her ballet shoes in the wrong way.

  Ellen was just giving herself a quick check in the full-length mirror when a voice said, “What’s happened to your feet?”

  It was a voice that she knew very well. It was coming from the mirror and it belonged to Princess Mirror-Belle.

  Ellen and Mirror-Belle had met several times before. Mirror-Belle looked just like Ellen’s reflection, but instead of staying in the mirror as reflections usually do, she had a habit of coming out of it. She was much cheekier and naughtier than Ellen and she was always boasting about her life in the palace and the magic things that she said happened to her.

  Ellen hadn’t seen Mirror-Belle for a while, and she wasn’t sure how pleased she was to see her now. All too often Mirror-Belle had got them both into trouble and then escaped into a mirror, leaving Ellen to take the blame.

  “Mirror-Belle! You can’t come to my dancing class,” she said now, then added, “What do you mean about my feet anyway? What’s wrong with them?”

  “They’re not dancing!” said Princess Mirror-Belle, leaping out of the mirror into the changing room. She was wearing an identical leotard and ballet shoes to Ellen’s, and a hairnet too, though she pulled this off and flung it to the ground with a shudder, saying, “I must have walked through a spider’s web.” Then she began to prance around the room, pointing her toes and waving her arms.

  “Stop! You’ll tire yourself out before the class has even started,” said Ellen.

  “I can’t stop. And I’m surprised that you can. I think you should take your shoes back to the elves and complain.”

  “What elves?” asked Ellen.

  But already Mirror-Belle had opened the door to the studio and was dancing in. Ellen followed her with a sinking feeling.

  The other girls in the class were standing in a line, waiting to curtsy to Madame Jolie. Ellen and Mirror-Belle joined the line. Some of the girls tittered as Mirror-Belle continued to dance up and down on the spot.

  “Who’s she?” asked one.

  “She looks just like you, Ellen,” said another.

  Madame Jolie had been talking to the lady who played the piano, but now she turned round to face the class.

  “Bonjour, mes élèves,” she said.

  This meant “Good day, my pupils,” in French. Madame Jolie was French and she always started the class like this.

  “Bonjour, Madame,” chanted Ellen and the other girls as they dropped a curtsy to the teacher – all except Mirror-Belle, who twirled around with her arms above her head.

  “Leetle girl on ze left – zat ees not a curtsy,” said Madame Jolie.

  “Ah, you noticed – well done.” Mirror-Belle jiggled about as she spoke. “No, I never curtsy – except very occasionally to my parents, the King and Queen. And I’m surprised that all these girls are curtsying to you instead of to me – or are you a princess too?”

  “Zees ees not ze comedy class,” replied Madame. Then her frown deepened. “Where ees your ’airnet?” she asked.

  “A hairnet, did you say? Why on earth should I wear one of those? The only thing I ever put on my head is a crown. I didn’t wear one today, though, because . . .” Mirror-Belle paused for a second and then went on, “because one of the diamonds fell out of it yesterday and it had to go to the palace jeweller to be repaired.”

  Ellen wondered if this was true. She had never seen Mirror-Belle with a crown on and sometimes doubted if she really was a princess.

  “If you forget ze ’airnet one more time you will leave ze class,” warned Madame. Then she ordered the girls to go to the barre.

  “We will practise ze pliés. First position, everyone.”

  Ellen and the others held the barre with their right hands and, with their heels together, turned their toes out. Then, as the piano started up, they all bent their knees and straightened up again. Ellen couldn’t see Mirror-Belle, who was behind her, but she could hear a thumping sound and some stifled giggles.

  “Non, non, non!” exclaimed Madame. She clapped her hands to stop the music and then wagged her finger at Mirror-Belle. “Why ees it zat you are jumping? I said plié, not sauté. A plié is a bend. A sauté is a jump.” She demonstrated the two movements gracefully.

  “It’s no use telling me that,” said Mirror-Belle, leaving the barre and dancing up to Madame. “It’s my ballet shoes you should be talking to.”

  Some of the girls giggled, but Madame was not impressed. “Do not argue, and keep still!” she ordered Mirror-Belle.

  “But I can’t!” Mirror-Belle complained. “I did think that you might understand about my shoes, even if Ellen doesn’t. I can see I’ll have to explain.”

  “Zere is no need for zat,” said Madame, but Mirror-Belle ignored her. Skipping around in time to her own words, she said, “They’re magic shoes. As soon as I put them on, my feet start dancing and I can’t stop till the soles are worn out.” She twirled around and then added, “Sometimes I dance all night.”

  “Then why aren’t they worn out already?” asked one of the girls, and received a glare from Madame.

  “This is a new pair,” said Mirror-Belle. “Some elves crept into the palace and made them for me in the night. I hid behind
a curtain and watched them. Luckily they didn’t see me. If they found out I knew about them, they’d probably never come back. They’re very shy, you see.” She leaped in the air and landed with a thump. “This pair is very well made. They’ll probably take ages to wear out.”

  Madame had had enough. “In zat case, you can go and wear zem out somewhere else,” she said angrily.

  “What a good idea,” said Mirror-Belle. “So you’re not just a pretty pair of feet after all,” and she flitted and twirled her way to the door.

  “Come on, Ellen!” she called over her shoulder as she danced out of the room.

  Ellen hesitated. Part of her wanted to follow Mirror-Belle, to try to stop her causing too much chaos elsewhere. On the other hand, she never was very good at that; usually she just got drawn into whatever trouble Mirror-Belle created. She decided to stay where she was. With a bit of luck, Mirror-Belle might get bored and go back through the changing-room mirror into her own world.

  “What an enfant terrible!” muttered Madame. “And no ’airnet!” she added, as if this was the worst crime of all. Then she turned back to the class. “Now, mes élèves, we will do ze pliés in second position.”

  Ellen’s mother, Mrs Page, was teaching the piano to Robert Rumbold when the doorbell rang.

  “Excuse me, Robert,” she said, interrupting a piece called “Boogie Woogie Bedbug”, which Robert was playing very woodenly. She went to the door.

  “Ellen, you’re back very early – and why are you still in your dancing things?”

  “I’m not Ellen, I’m Princess Mirror-Belle,” said the girl on the doorstep. She danced past Ellen’s mother and into the sitting room.

  “Don’t be silly, Ellen. And come out of there. You know you’re not allowed in the sitting room when I’m teaching.”

  Ellen’s mother had never met Mirror-Belle before. Although Ellen was always talking about her, her mother thought she was just an imaginary friend.

  Robert was still playing “Boogie Woogie Bedbug”, and the girl who Mrs Page thought was Ellen was slinking around the room, waggling her hips and clicking her fingers in time to the music.

  “You heard me, Ellen. Go to your room and get changed. Where are your clothes anyway?”

  “That’s a tricky question. It depends on whether my maid is having a lazy day or not. If she is, then my clothes are still on the palace floor where I left them. If she’s not, then they’re hanging up in the royal wardrobe,” said the girl, jumping on to the sofa and off again.

  “I suppose you’ve left them at ballet,” said Mrs Page with a sigh. “You’d better go back there now and get changed.”

  “That’s really no way to talk to a princess, but since you’re my friend’s mother I’ll excuse you.” She danced out of the room and Ellen’s mother heard the front door slam.

  “I’m so sorry about that, Robert,” she said.

  Robert just grunted and went on playing “Boogie Woogie Bedbug”. Strangely enough, the piece was now sounding much livelier than before, as if the bedbug had learned to jump at last.

  “That’s coming on so much better,” Mrs Page told him as she saw him out a few minutes later. “Keep practising it, and then next week you can start on ‘Hip Hop Hippo’.”

  Just then she spotted Ellen coming round the corner towards the house. She was wearing her outdoor clothes.

  “Hello, Ellen – that was very quick! You’re back just in time to apologize to Robert.”

  “What for?” asked Ellen, looking puzzled.

  “For barging in to his lesson like that.”

  “Oh no, don’t say Mirror-Belle’s been here,” groaned Ellen. “Where is she now?”

  “She’s in your imagination – just the same as usual – so stop blaming her for everything you do wrong. In fact, if you mention Mirror-Belle one more time I won’t let you go to the Battle of the Bands.”

  That evening Ellen, who had succeeded in not mentioning Mirror-Belle (though she kept thinking about her), was standing near the front of the village hall waiting for the second half of the Battle of the Bands to start. Three of the bands had played already, and the last of these, Hellhole, had received wild applause. Breakneck would have to play really well to beat them.

  “Do you want a Coke?” came a voice. It was Seraphina, who had pushed her way through the crowds of people to join Ellen.

  “Thanks. I like your T-shirt – it’s cool,” said Ellen.

  Seraphina was no longer wearing her skull T-shirt. This one had a green-winged snake on it.

  “Did you hear what happened to my other one?” asked Seraphina. “It was stolen from the changing room while I was at my ballet class. So were my jeans. Who do you think could have taken them?”

  “I’ve no idea,” said Ellen untruthfully.

  In fact, she had a very strong suspicion. Mirror-Belle must have danced back to the hall while the older girls were having their lesson and changed into Seraphina’s black jeans and silver-skull T-shirt. But where was she now?

  Just then the lights in the hall were dimmed and some bright-coloured ones came on over the stage.

  “Hi there, pop-pickers! Welcome back to the battlefield!” said the compère, Mr Wilks, who was a geography teacher in Luke’s school.

  Seraphina sniggered. “He’s not exactly cool, is he?” she whispered.

  Ellen decided she didn’t like the superior way in which Seraphina always spoke. Mirror-Belle put on airs too, but at least she could be good fun. Ellen wondered again where she had got to.

  “Put your paws together for Breakneck!” said Mr Wilks, and Ellen clapped much louder than anyone else as Luke, Steph and the other members of Breakneck slouched on to the stage.

  Luke tripped up on his way to his place and everyone laughed. Ignoring them, he hunched over the microphone.

  “Hey, you! Yes, you!” he began.

  He was pointing at the audience, and Ellen thought he looked quite good, but she could hear him only very faintly. Then he stopped altogether and signalled to Steph and the others to stop playing. What had gone wrong?

  The sound technician came on to the stage, sighed and plugged the lead from Luke’s microphone into the amplifier.

  “It must have come unplugged when he tripped,” said Seraphina.

  Not looking too put out, Luke started again.

  “Hey, you! Yes, you!

  “Turn around, look over your shoulder,” he sang.

  A loud screeching sound accompanied his voice.

  “Feedback,” whispered Seraphina knowledgeably.

  This time, Luke didn’t stop. The sound technician fiddled about with a knob and soon Luke’s voice sounded normal. In fact, he was singing really well, Ellen thought, though she probably wouldn’t admit it to him afterwards. But it had not been a good beginning. Some of the audience were still laughing, and a couple of Hellhole fans tried to start up a chant of, “Get them off!”

  Breakneck didn’t let any of this upset them. They carried on, and by the time Steph’s twangy guitar solo started quite a few people were tapping their feet and swaying. The coloured lights were flashing and some smoke started to rise from the foot of the stage.

  “That’s the smoke machine,” said Seraphina. “It was Steph’s idea.”

  The guitar solo came to an end at last and Luke started the “Hey, you!” chorus again.

  Ellen was aware of a disturbance somewhere behind her.

  “Watch out!”

  “Stop pushing!”

  “That was my toe!”

  She turned around and saw who was creating the fuss and bother. It was a girl dressed in black, dancing her way through the crowds. Because she was flinging her arms around, people were making way for her and soon she was at the very front of the hall.

  “Turn around,” sang Luke, and the girl turned around, her loose hair flying about.

  “Look over your shoulder,” he sang, and she stuck her chin out over her right shoulder, at the same time stamping her right foot and raising her l
eft hand. Her wild hair was almost covering her face, but Ellen had no doubt who it was.

  “Mirror-Belle, how could you?” she muttered under her breath. Just when Breakneck were beginning to impress people . . . This would ruin their chances!

  But, to her surprise, a couple of girls in the front row started copying Mirror-Belle’s movements, turning around whenever she did, looking over their shoulders with the same stamp and hand gesture, and pointing whenever Luke sang “Hey, you!” Some people stared at them, but others began to join in.

  The dance was infectious. Very soon nearly everyone in front of Ellen seemed to be doing it. They were joining in the words of the song as well. She turned round and saw that the people behind her were dancing and singing too.

  On the stage, Luke was grinning. He caught Steph’s eye and mouthed something to him. Ellen knew that they were at the end of the song, but they weren’t slowing down like they usually did.

  “They’ve gone back to the beginning! They’re going to sing it all over again!” she whispered to Seraphina happily.

  She expected Seraphina to look happy too, but instead she was staring accusingly at Mirror-Belle.

  “Have you seen what I have?” she asked. “She’s wearing my clothes! She’s the thief!”

  She strode forward, pushing through the dancers in front of her and reaching out for the skull T-shirt, which looked more like a dress on Mirror-Belle. Just when Seraphina tried to grab it, Mirror-Belle did another of her spins and, for the first time, noticed Ellen behind her.