Sommersgate House (Ghosts and Reincarnation #2)(6)
Julia was annoyed when she’d heard from Sam, Douglas’s PA, that the kids had been enrolled in a new school so soon after their parents had died. However, thousands of miles away and powerless to do anything, she’d simply gritted her teeth and waited.
Polo and archery, oh my, Julia thought sardonically as she listened to Willie chattering away to his grandmother while she watched Lizzie studiously doing her homework and Julia tried to pretend that everything was all right.
But everything was most definitely not all right.
They’d come home from school in the Bentley chauffeured by Carter, wearing posh school uniforms and had been sat down immediately to “tea” of cucumber sandwiches and a pot of fat free yogurt each.
“What on earth are you feeding them?” she’d whispered to Mrs. K.
Mrs. K shrugged and answered, “Lady Ashton doesn’t want them falling into unhealthy eating habits. We’ve never stocked sweets, crisps or puddings in this house, unless we’re entertaining, of course.”
“What about those biscuits you gave me earlier?” Julia asked.
“I was entertaining,” Mrs. K explained.
Of course.
Even though Julia was sentenced to live in spooky Sommersgate for the next twelve to thirteen years, she was still considered a guest.
Monique Ashton wasn’t worried about health; she was worried about the kids gaining weight. Monique herself was ten pounds underweight and was of the mind that fashionable, well-bred people emaciated themselves as proof of their fine upbringing. This, too, had been something Julia had heard Monique wax on about on more than one occasion, often pointedly looking at Patricia, who very much liked chocolate, potato chips and puddings of all kinds and looked the sort who did. Tamsin had always had a kitchen full to the brim with food, from grapes, apples and carrot sticks to chocolate covered malt balls and bags of microwave popcorn.
“Okay, she’s right here, Lizzie, Grammy wants to speak to you,” Willie called, breaking into Julia’s thoughts.
Lizzie threw her pencil down and slinked to the phone. She cast a brief glance in Julia’s direction as she took the phone from her brother and said, “Hello, Grandmother.”
Julia tried not to grimace.
Grandmother.
Patricia wouldn’t like that one bit. Monique was called “grandmother”. Patricia was Grammy, Gramma or just plain old Gram.
Julia watched Lizzie talking on the phone. The girl’s dark, normally lustrous, thick hair was lank and needed a wash. Her face was pale and lifeless.
Her dark blue eyes were dead.
Julia knew from her own conversations with the children over the last few months, not to mention the last several hours, that Ruby was taking the loss of her parents in stride. The child had always been a little strange. However, as Julia never had any children or been around any who had suffered such a tragedy, she couldn’t really imagine how a four year old would react.
Willie, on the other hand, was bearing up as any good Midwestern boy would, even though he’d been born and raised in England. He looked and acted exactly like Gavin at ten years old. Tall, straight, blond and blue-eyed, he was a handsome young man and it broke Julia’s heart to look at him, he so reminded her of her brother. Perhaps he had his dark moments but he never let either sister see, just like Gav would do. It was all teasing and light and any intense moments were saved for his own company.
Lizzie was remarkably different from both her brother and sister, not only in colouring, she being so dark (like Tamsin and Douglas) to their fair, but also in temperament.
The girl was not bearing up nearly as well. She was not like Gavin, Tamsin or Ruby. She was sensitive, stubborn and dramatic, quite like Julia herself. Normally quick-witted (and equally quick-tempered), smart and brimming with affection, the loss of her mother, who she adored, but perhaps most especially her father, who she was beloved by and loved herself (to distraction) had been a terrible blow. The twelve year old was having troubles and she had nothing familiar around her, her school and old school friends were gone and so was her home… and her parents.
She chatted to her grandmother for a bit, her heart obviously not in it, and then said, “She wants to talk to you again, Auntie Jewel.”
While taking the receiver Julia made certain to give her a loud, lip-smacking kiss on the top of her head in the hopes of gaining a familiar giggle but Lizzie just scuttled out from under the embrace and went back to her studies.
“Hi Mom,” Julia greeted.
Patty immediately went on the offensive. “All right, that’s it. His Lord and Master doesn’t even show up to dinner on your first night and she’s off on a yacht somewhere –”
Julia cut in. “Mom –”
Patty was having none of it and interrupted in return, “That’s simply not good manners. Forget it. Find out how to get those kids back home.” By “home” Patty meant their little farm town, fifteen miles west of Indianapolis, this topic being a recurring theme of their conversations these last months. “We’ll take care of them, you and me. We’ll give them a loving, happy home with big Christmases and pink frosting on their birthday cakes. Those two obviously have no interest.”
Julia had inherited the drama gene from her mother but never had quite eclipsed Patricia’s flair for it. Her mother was right, of course, but the kids had been through enough without throwing an ugly custody battle at them. Julia had to find some way to make this impossible situation work.