The magic of lightning on sand

Tiny bubbles of sweat, like little glass beads, formed on Cindy’s forehead as she leaned closer to the flame. The beads coalesced and slid slowly downward, making thin pink rivulets through the dark sooty smudges coating her cheeks.

The flame danced in petrol shades of blue, pink, red and yellow as she took a breath and placed the blow hose between heat chapped lips. Exhaling slowly and evenly, she twirled the pole, watching intently as the tip glowed orange and began to expand into a perfect bubble.

Patiently, with great delicacy and skill, she began to shape the bubble of glass, caressing it with tools wielded in clever hands encased in thick heatproof gloves, until it became a beautifully serpentine shape, reminiscent of the pneumatic hourglass figure of some fifties screen siren.

Pleased with the results, she carefully detached the piece, which would become a vase, and set it aside to be completed and hardened later

Straightening painfully, Cindy realised that she was utterly exhausted. She grabbed a cold beer from the workshop fridge and held its deliciously frosty exterior against her now throbbing forehead. The headaches were becoming more frequent, caused mainly by stress and tiredness. Taking a long swig of beer directly from the bottle, she revelled in the cool, crisp liquid soothing her burning throat.

Working two jobs, taking care of her nine year old daughter and her elderly grandmother, and trying to work on her glass designs at night was taking its toll. The evening job at the diner had been their bread and butter for months since the divorce, but the daytime temp job she had taken two weeks ago had seemed like the perfect opportunity to realise her dreams.

Although working in the sales office of the Ever After Art Glass Company wasn’t ideal, it was a foot in the door, she thought, and surely before too long she would be able to show someone her designs and she would be plucked from obscurity and made head designer, like in some fairytale. It could happen, she thought with a grin. Yeah, and if she didn’t get to bed soon she’d turn into a pumpkin!

Cindy looked around her workshop, her heart clenching with pride and pleasure as it always did when she surveyed her little domain. It had taken almost every penny of her divorce settlement to buy the tiny townhouse and equip the studio in the basement. The house was so run down, the money really should have gone on a new roof and double glazing, but she had gambled on being able to one day soon sell her art glass designs or get a job designing at one of the specialist companies, and that’s where Ever After came in.

Somehow though, in the cold light of day, those ambitions seemed so distant and tenuous that she feared for her future and that of her nine year old daughter, who slept peacefully upstairs. Had she gambled with their future? Was she putting her ambition above her responsibilities as a mother? Sighing, she closed the workshop for the night and moved slowly upstairs, every bone leaden with weariness.

She couldn’t go on like this, she decided as she climbed into her narrow bed. Tomorrow she would make the designers look at her work, even if she had to picket their office all day. She who dares wins, she grinned to herself as she drifted into sleep.

~~~~oOo~~~~~

Cindy had been at her desk for a full two hours the following morning before her boss, the aptly named Millicent Moody, swanned into the office, flanked by her two head designers, Monique and Veronique Laide. Millicent had thought it chic to have Parisienne sisters, who rumour had it had been headhunted from Lalique, to design Ever After’s glass. It’s a shame that the irony of their surname had gone completely over her head!

“Cindy, I want the quarterly sales report on my desk by close of play today, and the drafts for the new catalogue too,” she ordered sharply as she stalked past in her crisp Versace suit and Jimmy Choos.

“Yes Miss Moody,” Cindy replied quietly, knowing the extra tasks would mean working through her lunch and staying late too.

“And bring us some espressos,” Monique demanded before slamming their office door.

Cindy knew this would be her only chance. As the coffee machine warmed up, she gathered her portfolio and added it to the tray. Balancing it carefully on one hand, smiling conspiratorially at Millicent’s secretary Joyce, she knocked on the big honey wood door with a shaking hand, and went in.

The trio were gathered behind Millicent’s desk, heads bent as they studied some report or other. Millicent always brought to mind the description “well preserved”, which made Cindy think with a smile that she had formalin running through her veins instead of blood. The French girls might have been pretty if there had been anything soft or warm about them. She thought them brittle, hard and cold, just like their designs.

“Put it on the desk and get out,” Millicent snarled without looking up from the printout.

“Excuse me Millicent, I was hoping you might take a look at these for me,” Cindy said in the strongest voice she could muster.

“And what ees thees,” Veronique purred in her thick accent, as she grabbed the portfolio, almost upending the coffee tray.

“The leetle English mouse thinks she ees a designer!” she crowed.

The other two women watched as Veronique turned the pages dismissively.

“Boring, ugly, too modern, too plain, just heedeous,” she chanted as she flicked through the designs, making Cindy wince in pain with each barbed comment. Cindy was devastated; she had really thought she was onto something with those designs.

Millicent stabbed Cindy with her gimlet stare, making her feel she was about two inches tall.

“What makes you think you have the right to come in here with your stupid scribblings you insolent girl? These women studied at Lalique! They are highly trained professional designers! You are an amateur! Get out and take this rubbish with you!” she thundered.

Cindy turned blindly and ran, hardly able to see for the tears she could not hold back, her dreams for her own and her daughter’s future in tatters. Outside she leaned against the closed door, clutching her portfolio to her aching chest and letting ragged sobs finally escape her body.

“Darlin, darlin, it’s ok, take it easy,” Joyce the secretary said, as she came round her desk and put a motherly arm around Cindy’s shoulders.

“I think it’s time I told you a few facts,” she said in a low voice. “I could lose my job for this, but I can’t keep quiet any longer.” She led Cindy gently to the staff room and sat her down.

“I’ve worked at this company for 30 years Cindy, and I hate to see what’s happening to it now. Ever After used to be the best in the business, but sales are dropping and the last collection was a disaster. Tweedledim and tweedledimmer in there are running this place into the ground,” she said, jerking a head towards the Frenchwomen’s office.

“Have you heard of Charles Prince Enterprises?” Joyce asked.

“Of course,” Cindy replied. “Charles Prince Snr started Ever After at the beginning of the century, and it is now owned by his great grandson”.

“That’s right. Charles Prince Jnr got his start at this company. He was a fine young man with a real feel for glass, but of course, he expanded, got into real estate and finance and other such things, and went all multi-national, and he forgot about Ever After.

“It’s time you showed him what’s important Cindy. I think you are the only person who can save this company!”

“Joyce, I’m just a temp and you heard what the management said about my designs, how would I ever get to see Mr Prince?” Cindy said.

“I’ve grown very fond of you young lady. You are a wonderful kind, open person and your designs are amazing, don’t listen to those fools. You ever heard of the Glass Ball?” Joyce asked with a smile.

“Of course, it’s the biggest Industry party of the year, a lavish masked ball hosted by a different company every year,” Cindy replied, looking confused.

“Well, it’s tonight my dear, and Ever After just happens to be hosting it, and I just happen to be in charge of invitations!” Joyce crowed with delight, handing Cindy a stiff cream card with gold edges.

A wide grin began to overtake Cindy’s face, as the enormity of what was happening sank in.

“Now go, I’ll deal with those three. You have a lot of getting ready to do! Go get him!” Joyce smiled, her eyes sparkling with pleasure and excitement as Cindy enfolded her in a massive hug.

“I will never ever forget this,” Cindy whispered past the huge lump in her throat, before turning and running out of the door.

~~~oOo~~~

“Gran! Help!” Cindy screamed as she bounded up the steps of the townhouse. She need not have worried, Grandma Ellis was waiting for her in the lounge with a mysterious, long, twisted parcel wrapped in white tissue paper cradled on her lap.

“Don’t panic child, Joyce called me. Everything’s set. You jump in the bath, a taxi has been ordered and I’ve arranged for Nicki next door to come in and help me babysit. Remember though, she has her audition for the theatre company tomorrow, so you must be back by midnight so she can get some sleep. You must never jeapardise someone else’s dream to fulfil your own,” she said kindly.

“Ohhh Gran, but I’ve nothing to wear to a ball like this!” Cindy cried.

Gran smiled serenely, patting the packet on her lap.

“You may not know this, but in my younger days I was a rather sought after model. I may be near on a hundred years old but once I was young and something of a dish! One of my favourite designers was a man called Mariano Fortuny. He was very famous, a genius with fabric, and when I left his studio to marry your grandpa, he gave me this gown. I’ve kept it all these years, it should really be in a museum, it’s very valuable, but I think it’s just right for your ball,” Gran explained with a smile.

Her age spotted, but still elegant hands, shook out the gown from its wrapping of tissue paper and Cindy gasped in awe.

Made of the finest tissue silk she had ever seen, it was a tumbling fall of fine vertical pleats falling from tiny cap sleeves and a wide scooped neck. The silvery colour of the fabric and the way the pleats moved and clung made it look like water….or glass, Cindy realised with a gasp! It was perfect!

An hour later, Cindy stood in front of the mirror, unable to recognise the miraculous creature staring out at her. The gown clung to her shapely figure and seemed to glow, making her skin look like thick cream. Her golden blonde hair shone in abundant curls, piled atop her head and secured with spun glass combs she had designed herself. Her neck and ears were hung with her own glass jewellery that sparkled with fire to match the finest diamonds. And the finishing touch, a stunning feather designed mask on a long handle, fashioned entirely from glass. Cindy knew that she was a walking advertisement for her craft, she just hoped Charles Prince would be impressed!

Kissing her grandmother goodnight, and promising faithfully to be back by midnight, she rushed toward her destiny.

~~~oOo~~~

Charles Prince Jnr looked out over the opulent hotel ballroom, scarcely aware of the several hundred people drinking, laughing, talking and dancing. A dim corner of his mind registered an aesthetic pleasure at the beautifully gowned women, the tuxedo clad men and the deliciously Rococco surroundings, complete with dozens of ice sculptures and glittering chandeliers, but the bulk of his mind was really elsewhere.

What would Great-Grandfather think of the mess he had let Ever After fall into? The balance sheets looked poor, the company was barely holding onto its market share. He knew he had neglected his favourite part of the business in favour of more immediate financial gain, but he decided enough was enough, it was time to get the glass business back on track. Great-grandfather would never forgive him otherwise.

There was a commotion at the door and Charles turned to see what the problem was, ever the congenial host. What he saw in the doorway took his breath away. There, at the entrance to the ballroom, stood the most incredible woman he had ever seen. She looked like the first piece of glass he had ever bought….a glorious Lalique Art Deco woman, all Grecian gown, slender arms and curled hair piled atop the face of an angel. Well, he assumed she must have the face of an angel, as half of it was obscured by the most beautifully wrought glass mask.

More stunning glass creations glittered at her ears and throat, and the dress, a floor length slim column of crystal pleated silver silk – he was sure it was a genuine vintage Fortuny – shimmered in the candlelight. He was drawn to her as if magnetized, and before he even knew it, he was standing before her, extending his hand and introducing himself.

“Good evening, I’m Charles Prince, I don’t believe we have met?” he said, unable to keep a slight shiver from his voice.

The touch of her hand was electric. Charles had never felt so alive in his life. He didn’t know what to be more in awe of – her beauty or the stunning glass creations that adorned it.

She placed the small satin covered box she carried in lieu of a purse onto a nearby table and clasped his outstretched hand warmly. Beneath the mask he caught a flash of even white teeth and soft pink lips as she smiled.

“Good evening Mr Prince, I’m so pleased to meet you. My name is Cindy Ellis,” she said quietly, her voice like warm honey.

Realising they were blocking the dance floor, he smiled apologetically and swept her into his arms and into a waltz, relishing the excuse to have this exquisite creature in his arms.

As they danced he questioned Cindy closely about her jewellery and mask and was stunned to find they were her own designs. One dance blurred into two, and four, and more, as they followed the music and talked about their shared passion for glass.

She explained in her soft, sweet voice that her fascination for glass was born when, as a small child on an outing with her beloved father, she had seen how stunning glass shapes, called fulgurites, could be formed by forked lightning hitting sand. Since then she had been hooked and it had become a passion, dimmed through years of a stagnant marriage, but rekindled after the joyous freedom of divorce.

Excitement stirred in his belly. Had fate sent this woman to him, on the very night he had decided his glass company needed help? Could she be the answer? If the pieces she wore were anything to go buy, this woman was incredibly talented. He had to secure her services before one of the other companies represented at the ball realised what a find she was.

The huge gold and glass Tiffany clock at the head of the ballroom began to chime the first stroke of midnight and Charles felt Cindy stiffen in his arms and move away in panic.

“What’s wrong, where are you going,” he called as she looked at the clock with stricken features, and with a mumbled apology turned and ran from the ballroom. Charles was so shocked by the sudden departure that he didn’t even follow for precious seconds, and by the time he had the presence of mind to give chase, there was no sign of Cindy Ellis.

“Damn!” he cursed to himself, realising he had no way of tracing her. He had no idea who she worked for or where she lived. Then, inspiration struck and he remembered the small silk box on the table. He rushed to the ballroom and found the item, opening it gently and hoping against hope for a business card or drivers’ licence.

What he found blew him away. Nestled in ivory ruched satin was the most exquisite glass shoe he had ever seen. It looked to be life sized, its sole and slim heel tipped in gold and its sides covered in a stunning hand etched pattern of twined roses, hearts and ivy. He had never seen such fine craftsmanship or such beautiful design. Tucked under the shoe was a small piece of ivory laid card, which explained the shoe was life sized and could even be worn, thanks to a new method of hardening glass that Miss Ellis had been working on.

The piece, it explained, was conceived primarily as a wedding gift, which would help re-establish the quaint romantic old tradition of the groom drinking champagne at his wedding from his bride’s shoe.

Charles’ mind immediately started to race with cost projections, unit costs, marketing strategies and advertising campaigns. This was pure genius! He turned the card over, expecting to find an address, but there was nothing.

He knew that first thing in the morning he had to find that girl!

~~~oOo~~~

Charles charged into the headquarters of Ever After Art Glass, entering the designers’ office without stopping to knock.

Veronique and Monique looked up in surprise, stunned to see their company’s CEO standing unannounced in the doorway. Why the hell hadn’t that stupid secretary announced him so that they could have prepared themselves?

“Do you recognise this?” he asked harshly, holding out what looked like a glass shoe.

Monique was first to recover her composure. “But of course Monsieur Prince, eet ees our design. Do you like eet?” she said slyly.

“You designed this?” Charles asked in surprise, as the two women nodded like dogs in a car’s back window.

“I see Mademoiselles. And how do you see us marketing this piece?” he asked in a deceptively casual tone.

The French women were at a loss. “Well, ummmm, eet ees a curio Monsieur, a leetle ornament, nussing more,” Veronique stuttered.

“You would dare to lie to me?” Charles thundered, furious. “You’re fired, both of you, and you can tell Millicent to go with you, she was stupid enough to hire you in the first place.”

He turned quickly on his heel and left, suddenly deflated to realise the trail was cold and he had no idea how to find Cindy.

“Excuse me Mr Prince, I think this is what you are looking for,” came a voice from beside him.

“Joyce, how are you, it’s been a long time,” he said, embracing his old secretary warmly.

“Too long Charlie,” she said with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. “Now go get your girl”.

Charles looked down at the slip of paper in his hand and his mouth broke into a huge grin as he ran from the room.

~~oOo~~

Cindy was in her studio when she heard the townhouse doorbell ringing. Muttering crossly at the interruption, she climbed the stairs from the basement and opened the big old front door, to find Charles Prince Jnr standing on her townhouse steps, clutching her prototype glass slipper in one strong, tanned hand.

“I understand this belongs to you,” he said with a grin.

Stumbling over words, suddenly incredibly aware of the shabby peeling wallpaper of her hallway, she invited him into the old fashioned parlour.

“I’ve been trying to find you since last night,” he blurted out, too excited to stand on ceremony.

“You ran out before I could find out who you were and how to contact you.

“I need to tell you your designs are incredible. I want you to head up the new design studio at Ever After. You can pick your own team and I’ll give you complete creative control. Say you’ll take the job Cindy, please? The company needs your flair and originality,” the words tumbled out of Charles’ mouth in a rush, along with what he hoped was a winning smile.

Tears were very close to the surface now, as Cindy nodded wordlessly, unable to believe what was happening to her. Everything she ever dreamed of was coming true. The fairytale was real!

“I think you are an amazing woman Cindy. I’ve never felt an attraction this strong. Come to dinner with me,” Charles said, his eyes sparkling with passion.

“Ohh, Mr Prince, I’m truly honoured, really,” Cindy said, heat flaming in her cheeks. “I am so grateful for the opportunity, and I won’t let you down, but I couldn’t possibly date my boss! But I look forward to a productive working relationship,” she said, turning towards a large old desk in the corner.

Charles smiled ruefully, noting that Cindy had already dismissed him, her golden head bent as she sketched furiously, ideas spilling out onto the page almost quicker than she could manage to keep up with.

“That’s ok,” he thought philosophically. There was plenty of time to win her over…….