sun's up, a little after twelve
make breakfast for myself, leave the work for someone else

Ángela was having a blast.

To be fair, any day spent entirely in the company of one or both parents was vastly superior to the alternative. Removing Ned from the occasion heightened the bar, since it afforded Ánge unfettered access to adult attention. But a day with just her and her mama, on their own, in the Disney Store? This had to rank in at one of the best five days ever, right up there with the time she and daddy flew over the Gibraltar Strait on winged unicorns for teacakes in a Moroccan café.

The explosion of sparkling colours was an assault on the senses; Ángela drank it in greedily, spinning on the spot as she tried to decide which corner to hare off into first. Subconsciously, she wiggled her shoulders and tapped her foot along to the tune of Hakuna Matata, which was currently being pumped out over the audio speakers attached to the walls. The area closest to Ángie and Croe was awash with blue merchandise relating to one of the former’s least favourite princesses: Cinderella. Ángie had never understood why Cinderella didn’t just run away instead of always cleaning up after her ugly stepsisters. Along with Aurora and Snow White, she seemed very silly, dramatically different from the more modern princesses Ángie idolised.

She glanced in the direction of the lady sporting a pink-purple dress and a long blonde wig, and wrinkled her nose.

“Mama, that’s Rapunzel.” She told her in a slightly exasperated tone.

Rapunzel was cool, but not nearly as cool as… Ángie scanned the displays on tiptoe, shading her eyes against the glaring overhead lights with one delicate, honey-brown hand. There! Spotting a forest of green over on the far side of the store, she grabbed her mother’s hand and dragged her forwards, ducking past the Jungle Book and Aristocat displays. She paused briefly at a rack of identical Queen Elsa dresses, eyeing the silvery sparkles, before resuming her beeline straight into the section dedicated to her favourite movie: Brave. A life-sized cardboard cut-out of Merida, grinning and sporting a bow and arrow, guarded an aisle of assorted toys: plush, Barbie-style, collector’s editions.

“Mama, look!” Ángie squealed, plucking a black Shire plushie from the bottom shelf and pressing it into her mother’s hands. She didn’t stop there, but started wandering down the aisle, pointing out the most expensive collectable toys on the higher shelves. “If you met Merida you would be friends,” she informed Croe, slipping her hand back into the latter’s. “Merida does what she wants and she won’t get married because she knows boys are stupid. And she rides a big horse and always hits her target with her bow and arrow.”

Releasing Croe’s hand again, Ángie glided a little further down the aisle to where the little action figures featuring a wide cast were. She stared at the bear, an immortal scowl etched into its face, and folded her arms.

“I wouldn’t turn my enemies into bears, though. That’s just stupid.” She shrugged. “I would just shoot them.”


Ángela
progeny of the warbird and the sun-god