The Scent of Lilac
My take on ‘Sleeping Beauty’
Coming up for air at long last, she could make out flecks of light in the dense swirl, coupled with a heady perfume that assailed her senses. A brief vision in miniature spun from the darkness — a climbing rose clinging to sun-baked brick and a bunch of lilac plumes nodding sagely between the privet. A reminder of long summer afternoons, when she had played in the high-walled garden. Velvety petals, some beaded with dew, settling on her cheeks and lips.
It was as if winter was over and spring had come all at once. She was still drowsy, half-submerged in her dream world. A soft hand caressed her cheek — familiar, comforting. ‘Lilac,’ she murmured, finally opening her eyes.
‘Yes, I’m here, my sweet.’
‘What happened. Have I been ill?’
‘There’s been a nasty spell of sleeping sickness. The whole castle has been affected, but the worst of it seems to be over.’
‘How long have I been asleep?’
‘Quite a while, dear.’ Lilac smoothed the edge of the coverlet.
‘Where’s Mama and Papa?’
‘They are still very poorly, I’m afraid. Dr Grasset is attending to them. Rest for now. I’ll bring you some broth a little later on.’
