by Summer Day
The Princesses were returning to form again.
‘I happen to know Teegan was a functioning bulimic in ninth grade. It’s so typical for her to attack someone else over a problem she secretly has,’ Mouche added as we trotted off.
I rode up alongside Mouche who seemed surprised I could sit a horse, but I’d been going to pony club from the age of six, long after Mouche dropped out. My attendance had been less frequent since Daddy ran off with the family fortune.
Mark’s Aunt had invited us all for lunch and I was excited that we’d get the chance to explore Mark’s house afterwards. It was sure to be very formal and opulent.
Ethan had agreed to accompany Teegan but was constantly ignoring her and glancing over at Mouche, flexing his fingers in between gallops. He’d been practising ‘some concerto’ for a competition the night before.
‘Honestly, I’m just surrounded by high-achieving talents. It’s making me quite insecure,’ Teegan whispered sarcastically.
Freya, who’d been pony clubbing since age three, invited us over to her place last week. We consolidated ‘date-notes’ and admired her amazing walk-in closet and riding trophies. There were hundreds of shoes and boots in the latest styles, all color co-ordinated along with her jackets, and we compared and contrasted fashion. Freya even allowed Brooke to try on her costumes from previous school musicals. Tory and Teegan tried on some of them as well. The rest of us sat on Brooke’s bed, beneath the crucifixes, adding extra notes to the Boy Rating Diary and that’s when Tory and Teegan told us they intended to go riding on Saturday.
Mouche and I thought our wardrobes were quite extensive but, on the one night we babysat Wednesday last month, we had total access to Mrs Mouche’s closet which is way fancier. Mrs Mouche has loads of her mom’s vintage fashions and hundreds of pairs of vintage shoes.
However, the walk-in closet to end all walk-in closets really belonged to a most unexpected individual: a girl none of us knew well, Mark’s sister, Petra.
Petra surprised us all by meeting us half-way. She was an excellent rider and made Teegan and Tory look like amateurs.
When we met, the boys, Jet (who was his normal charming self) and Mark (minus his usual scowl), had already been riding for half an hour to ‘warm up the race horses’ as Tory put it. I don’t think he’d expected Mouche or me to be so good. We both knew something about riding, even if we didn’t do perfect little canters and jumps like Brooke and Freya who were in the opposite paddock by now with Tory and Teegan cheering the boys on like homecoming queens.
They were clapping out of time to the beat and if Jet so much as whispered, they took notes. They knew full well this was an arranged date and although we didn’t totally ignore them, it was a little uncomfortable having to pretend to be inclusive when they rode over to try to get the attention of Jet and Mark, under the guise of preparing for their respective trail rides.
Mark seemed intent on helping Mouche handle the bridle ‘properly’ and though Teegan yelled out, ‘look at this!’ Mark only glanced up and seemed vaguely unimpressed. I felt sorry for the Princesses once we’d all actually gone for a gallop. Their behaviour had exposed them as desperate and slightly incompetent.
At one point Jet was giddying up my horse and Mouche was trotting around the ring on a horse named Flame. Flame took off and Mark followed her. The animal was going faster and faster until Mark grabbed the reins off Mouche in a very timely and masculine way.
‘Whoa,’ Mark said.
He managed to slow down the horse and prevented the possible accident that may have occurred as the horse ran wild into the distance.
‘Here...take my hand,’ he said, as Mark offered Mouche assistance.
Mouche smiled at him gratefully as he helped her down onto solid ground to recover. I was trailing behind them slightly. Mark patted Flame, then looked at Mouche calmly and said in a protective fashion, ‘are you okay?’ to which she replied, ‘I’m a little cold,’ and he took off his own jacket and wrapped it around her.
My heart beat skipped.
Mark checked the horse, ‘Oh look, a rock under the saddle. That is sure to disturb the horse when weight is pressed up against it.’ Mark glanced at one Princesses in particular.
Teegan flushed guiltily.
Mouche’s face had turned white. The Princesses and their dates had halted their horses behind us and pulled up looking shocked.
Afterwards there was a bit of a truce as Mark and Jet invited everyone back to Mark’s aunt’s house.
‘I have a prior engagement,’ Teegan said, because she couldn’t stand not being the centre of attention and everyone suspecting her of sabotage.
‘Oh we can go to The Grove later,’ Brooke replied to a withering stare from her sister.
The other girls seemed to have reverted to their former ways and wandered off with their original group. Tory said they had half the football team lined up for a ‘skate off’ at Sunrise Roller Derby at 2pm anyway.
At least, that’s what they told us, ‘trying to make all the boys jealous,’ Mouche added under her breath.
So in the end it was just me and Mouche and Mark and Jet and Petra.
Because Mouche and I are like sisters, we telepathically knew this would be a great story for the Boy Rating Diary so we jumped straight into Mark’s new sports car. Though Mouche was crammed into the back seat, she said the view of the hills in the distance reminded her of some amazing foreign film, ‘like a scene from a Bond movie – the one set in the South of France.’
There were huge gates outside Mark’s mansion which were even taller than the gates around Jet’s place. There was also a moat and a bridge we drove over to reach the house which was surrounded by manicured gardens and staff to open the door for us when we reached the entrance. There didn’t seem to be any other adults apart from the butler and housekeeper who helpfully took our jackets.
‘All very gothic,’ Mouche said.
‘The wing my sister and I share is really warm. We have a huge flat screen television and all the mod cons (Mark sounded seriously British when he said this). You should have seen where we went to boarding school in the South of England, originally.’ Petra gave a shiver from the remembrances of previously cold times and I felt her pain. Mouche did also, although she noted in the Boy Rating Diary, that what she felt for Mark at that point was more of a sisterly, rather than future girlfriend, kind of feeling.
Mark was very tall and hot but, let’s face it, he wasn’t exactly spontaneous. Mouche didn’t seem to mind as she leant forward from the back seat, paying intense interest while he spoke of his days playing ‘football’ in the mud and wet of Windsor.
‘Hey, isn’t that where the Queen lives?’ she asked.
‘Yes, but only on weekends. As a matter of fact you see Windsor Castle not far from my old school.’
‘Wow that’s almost like being related to royalty,’ Mouche said sarcastically.
‘Totally,’ I agreed but I noticed when Jet tried to put his arm around her she moved apart from him.
Mark’s sister took us on a tour of the indoor pool and library. We walked beyond the Knightly family crest and ancestral portraits on the wall. Petra was two years younger than Mouche and me but dressed with more fashion sense than we had at her age. She also seemed more mature. Perhaps it was her upbringing and early loss.
‘Are those jeans Vintage?’ I asked.
‘Yep,’ she said sweetly, ‘they were my mother’s. She ordered them off the internet.’
Mark suddenly looked very sad and said, ‘come and join us for a late lunch.’ He was acting so polite it was hard to believe he was the same person. Jet suggested they go and play pool while lunch was being prepared ‘by the housekeeper.’
‘Okay, we’ll be down in a minute,’ Petra called out.
Mark said he’d give us a tour of the house. His uncle was, ‘away in Europe on business, but due back soon...hopefully after we’ve left.’ Mouche laughed at his joke, perhaps a little louder than me.
‘I’m afraid my Uncle is...a bit different.’
‘You could say that,’ Jet added bemusedly.
Although the house was seriously ritzy, I gotta tell you Mouche didn’t look very impressed. Her mood lifted when lunch arrived. We both loved food (although we tried not to eat too much junk) and this was delicious - platters of sandwiches and little silver trays of fruit salad and ice-cream for dessert.
‘Wow, this is wonderful,’ I said.
‘Totally,’ Mouche agreed.
‘As good as the Sunrise Diner?’ Jet asked.
‘Definitely,’ I replied.
‘Maybe even better,’ Mouche said, smiling at Mark. I noticed he smiled right back at her.
After lunch we had a tour of the huge house, ‘more like a mansion,’ I whispered to Mouche.
Mouche whispered back to me in the ‘library’ as Mark was stoking up a real fire place,
‘Ethan and I went ice skating last night...’
‘You mean you went on a second date without telling me?’
‘I have learnt to keep my options open. Besides, he rang me a few days ago, obviously, because it says in Mrs Robinson’s guide never to ring a man. I texted him back. One thing led to another and before I knew it we were at Town Square Ice Rink.’
‘Did anything happen?’
‘Not really, well, we kissed...and I scored a pair of ice-skates to take to the Rockefeller Centre in the future...sh...Jet’s coming back.’
I was starting to think Mouche was playing the field a little too well.
Jet entered the room and smiled at Mouche. You could tell he really liked her. I wasn’t too bothered. I mean, I had other ideas. I wandered off to find Petra’s room which was located in an old converted ballroom. Petra had the most amazing bedroom I’d ever seen although the size of the room itself appeared to engulf her and she seemed happy to have company.
Besides, leaving Jet and Mouche alone for a few minutes was, I thought, the right thing to do.
‘Hey Petra, it’s nice to see you again.’
‘Hi Phoebe.’
There was an extravagant doll’s house in the corner.
‘Mouche’s little sister would be wild about that,’ I said.
‘It’s just for decoration. My aunt installed it. You should bring Mouche’s sister over sometime,’ Petra said congenially.
‘Uh...Okay,’ I replied.
Chapter 23
Family Secrets
Petra looked really shy and very skinny, although not totally anorexic, as some might have said.
She smiled up at me. Petra was sorting through her wardrobe, then she spoke in a reserved way, becoming more animated as she made her suggestion, ‘I was hoping we could all go down to the skating rink next Saturday. I was going to text you.’
‘That’d be great,’ I agreed. I loved to skate even though I was less than perfect at it. I enjoyed getting all dressed up in wintery clothes although it was nowhere near winter weather.
‘I’m trying to find something nice to wear. We don’t often have visitors since I’ve been here and my aunt tends to sleep in the afternoons.’
‘Oh, really? Why?’
‘Pharmaceuticals.’
‘Right,’ I said, not knowing whether to laugh or commiserate. Let’s face it, all did not seem entirely ‘normal’ in the Knightly household and I was glad to be going home to my mom’s place and also to have Mrs Mouche’s warm and loving home as a refuge. If ever I get married and have kids, I’m going to remember love is more important than money.
‘I suppose they keep her happy,’ Petra said this almost like a warning. ‘Anyway, take a look at my stuff, I’m trying to find this shirt I bought from Selfridges.’
‘Oh, you like to shop?’
‘Of course.’
‘Me too.’
Petra continued, ‘but I got this in London. I love to go to Kings Road. I miss our old home.’
‘Wow, you have the most amazing closet.’ Honestly, it was fit for a real Princess – well, maybe a young Queen.
‘Just like Hannah Montana,’ she replied, with a hint of her brother’s wit.
‘I suppose.’
‘You’re right, I’m lucky. Come in, check it out.’ Petra turned on all the lights and she had the sort of fashion haul to do those teen envy reality shows proud times a thousand.
‘You even have proper stage lights around your mirror. I love that.’
I placed my hand on the right shirt and jeans for Petra in minutes; then I got an idea. I found some sort of vintage suit covered in plastic and said, ‘hey, do you ever wear this?
‘Actually, I don’t. It’s too big for me. My aunt bought it for me to wear to a wedding I didn’t attend.’
‘Oh, you must really like it then.’
‘Not really, I’m thinking of giving it to Goodwill.’
‘No, don’t do that.’
It really was the most perfect vintage suit I’d ever laid eyes on, exactly right for my character to wear in the final scene of the play, and also for our treasure haul.
‘Why don’t you have it,’ Petra suggested.
‘Really?’
‘Sure.’
I offered to reserve Petra a seat in the front row on opening night. It’s amazing how kind people become when you are working towards a common goal. It’s like the universe steps in to offer possibilities. One of our spiritual guide books to dating, Astral Planet Lovin’, elaborates on that.
After giving Petra a make-over, we entered the dining room together only to find Jet inching closer to Mouche. When we arrived he let go of her hand and started to act really cool and Mouche glanced over to me with a, ‘I think it’s time to go,’ look on her face.
We noticed Mark’s uncle hovering over the ‘drinks tray’ in the corner of the room wearing a business suit and tie. He must have arrived home early. Mark looked worried as he introduced us to him.
‘Hello, girls,’ Mr Knightly said in a slightly too-friendly way.
Mark’s aunt introduced herself with a dismissive, ‘and who are your little friends, Mark?’ as if we couldn’t speak for ourselves. She also looked at our clothes with a distasteful expression on her face as if what we wore was shabby. We left just as she was asking us what our fathers did for a living, what kind of car they drove and if we summered in the Hamptons.
Poor Mark. He had wanted to leave immediately after lunch but his relatives arrived early. He looked so embarrassed as we gathered our jackets to leave.
‘My parents were never like this,’ he said.
Jet interjected, ‘oh, Phoebe...Mark forgot to tell you something...you should know about Joel.’
I was in a hurry to leave. Mark’s uncle was creeping me out and Mark seemed hesitant to speak loudly, so I jokingly said, ‘you should put it on paper.’
‘Uh, okay,’ Mark replied. He looked surprised that Jet had spoken on his behalf when usually it was the other way around.
I knew guys didn’t usually write letters, but I thought this might prove added commitment. Mark looked like he wanted to come with us but was forced to stay when his aunt told him his Latin tutor was due to arrive in ten minutes.
Turns out Mark’s uncle had arrived back from Brussels and was ‘pouring himself a drink.’ He actually asked us if we wanted one as we were leaving.
Petra excused herself to ‘walk the dogs,’ after giving me a ‘see you soon’ smile. Mouche pinched another sandwich on the way out as Mark’s uncle gave both her and me an extra long glance from head to toe.
‘Eww.’ Mouche said.
‘I know, Mark’s uncle is super lecherous.’
‘He must like younger women.’
‘Much younger.’
‘Gee, that’s original,’ Mouche said.
‘I know, poor Mark. Do you think he even noticed?’
‘Definitely. Besides, he never would have invited us home if he realized his uncle was going to be there.’ Mouche said. ‘What a sleeze.’
‘Totally.’
/> ‘You can’t choose your relatives.’
‘Unless they’re your friends,’ Mouche added.
Surrounded by lush grounds and with the majestic mansion framed by sunset falling, we finally understood why so few people had ever been to visit Mark’s place.
The next day a letter was hand delivered to my house.
Mark’s chauffeur embarked from the car and rang my doorbell. I sleepily answered in my pyjamas and robe, rubbing my eyes.