Free Golden Girl by Cathy Hopkins

opened into wonderful room on floor after floor. Every square centimetre was painted or carved or
covered in mosaic – even the ceilings were painted in a riot of colour. Some walls had brightly coloured paintings of elephants or camels, others gods, goddesses or ancient rulers. The most
impressive was an opulent, enclosed area in the centre of the palace called the Peacock Court. The floor was made up of black and white square tiles and the walls had tiered balconies up top so
people could see down into the courtyard.
    Ramesh pointed to a projected balcony. ‘That is where the king used to address the court,’ he told us as we looked up.
    ‘Wow, I love this place,’ I said, as I took in peacock mosaics on one side that had been made from green, blue and gold glass.
    ‘Five thousand pieces of glass were used to make them,’ said Ramesh. ‘The peacock is the bringer of good luck. The works of art on the walls to your right depict scenes from
the legends of the Hindu god, Lord Krishna.’ I looked at the life-size depictions in all shades of gold glass. They were stunning.
    ‘And look at those doors,’ said Pia. One had rows of brightly coloured blue and green feathers painted around it; another gold door was set back in the wall with a series of deep
green arches that seemed to ripple out towards us.
    As we wandered through the maze of corridors, towers, courtyards, pavilions and rooms interlinked with pillars or arches, JJ took my hand and looked as impressed as me and Pia. ‘I’ve
never seen anything like this. Ornate is not the word. It even beats Porchester Park!’ he said with a smirk, as he looked up at a gold and red mosaic ceiling. ‘When was it built,
Ramesh?’
    ‘The palace was built 450 years ago by Maharaja Udal Singh, sir,’ Ramesh told us, ‘and has been added to by subsequent generations, which is why it is now a series of palaces,
eleven in all, measuring two hundred and forty-four metres long and thirty metres high.’
    Pia nodded, busy photographing everything she could. I think Ramesh had lost her with all his stats. I preferred to look rather than photograph. I could send Pia’s pics back to Dad and
Charlie.
    ‘Seeing this place makes me feel like doing interior design,’ I said as we walked through one room with arches to the right, pillars to the left all painted in soft blue with white,
then on into another room decorated in soft green with gold mirrors and burgundy window frames and doors. Everywhere we went was a feast of colour: gold and orange rooms, pink, green and blue
rooms, some gaudy and bright, others soft and subtle. Orange-red flowers were painted on a blue background. A gold elephant and camel on a turquoise wall. I glanced down to a courtyard where women
in red, pink and cobalt blue saris were strolling, adding more splashes of colour to the already dazzling scene.
    ‘Yeah, but you’d need clients who had a gazillion million to spend to recreate anything like this,’ said Pia.
    My favourite room had a wall of red and silver mirrors laid out in a zig-zag pattern, and a black and white tiled floor. It was insane but it worked.
    ‘Do you think it’s because of the sun here?’ asked Pia. ‘All the colours, I mean. In England so many people wear grey and black, especially in winter. Here everything is
totally intense and brilliant.’
    ‘Probably. It makes me want to throw out all my black clothes,’ I said.
    Just as we thought we’d seen it all, we entered a room where the walls were made from small squares of blue, orange, green and yellow glass. The afternoon sun streamed through creating the
most amazing play of light.
    ‘I’ve almost used up my whole photo card,’ said Pia. ‘We have to see if we can buy a book to show Mum and Henry.’
    ‘I bet there’ll be loads of pics on the net,’ I said. ‘When we get home, we can just Google City Palace in Udaipur and there’ll be a ton of stuff on
there.’
    ‘You’re right,’ said Pia and put