Family Portrait (Kingsley Family Trilogy Book 1)

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Family Portrait (Kingsley Family Trilogy Book 1) Page 28

by Rebecca Paulinyi


  At break she tried to catch up with work, and so found herself, for the first time since arriving, in the library. The fifteen minutes dragged by painfully slowly, and she began to dread lunch: it was going to be so much worse.

  However, it turned out that blood wasn’t always thicker than water. At lunch, fully prepared to be sat on her own, Imogen took a seat at a solitary table in the canteen. She forced herself not to look over to her – their – table, because she was afraid that she would see Zach laughing, joking, maybe even flirting. That would have been too much to bear. As she wasn’t even looking at their table, she was taken completely by surprise as Eve, Carrie and Violet suddenly sat down beside her.

  “Where are we going on Friday night then?” Eve asked, biting into a chicken BLT baguette – a combination Imogen found repellent.

  “Friday?” Imogen asked.

  “Yes, your birthday, Immy,” it seemed they had all picked up on that nickname. “Don’t play all innocent with us just to get out of celebrating. We’re going out, and that’s it. I don’t care what’s going on with you and my brother; we’re not letting your sixteenth go by uncelebrated!” Carrie and Violet nodded in agreement.

  “We could try to get into the Stars,” Carrie said, “I’ve heard they’re really lax on checking ID.” Eve nodded.

  “We can start with a few drinks at mine.” She paused at the alarmed look on Imogen’s face. “Oh, fine, at Carrie or Violet’s then – what’s going on with you and him anyway? – then we’ll go out. It’ll be a pain not having the guys there to buy us drinks, but-”

  “If you’re going to make me celebrate, then it’s just us four, okay?” Luckily for Imogen, Eve seemed far too preoccupied with organising the birthday night out than she was finding out what was going on between her best friend and her brother. Imogen realised that Eve had left her brother, and that she and Carrie had left their boyfriends, to come and sit with her, and felt grateful to them all. She had thought they were good friends, but it was reassuring to know it wasn’t just because she and Zach had been dating.

  She was pretty sure she was going to need some good friends pretty soon.

  Eve agreed, and so started to babble on about what she would be wearing – allowing Imogen to wallow in her own thoughts; not something she liked doing. Her own head was not a very happy place to be.

  “Hello, Earth to Imogen?” She snapped out of her thoughts as Violet spoke – clearly, she’d been addressed without noticing.

  “Oh, sorry, what?”

  “Do you all want to come round to mine for about seven on Friday?” Violet asked, “My parents are out until ten, so they won’t be bothered. Well, they won’t know, anyway.” They all smiled, except Imogen, who just nodded.

  “Yeah, okay.” Despite being pleased her friends were sat with her, making conversation required more effort than she had the energy to summon, and so she was glad when the bell went for lesson five – even though it was history.

  She and Eve walked to the lesson in silence, but Imogen was pretty sure the interrogation would begin once they sat down – and she was right. For the first time, she wished she hadn’t chosen to sit next to her best friend in history.

  “Immy, what’s going on?” she asked. “You’re moping, Zach’s moping. What’s happened?”

  “Eve…” Imogen whispered, “I really don’t want to discuss it.” Eve sighed.

  “Okay, fine.” Imogen was surprised she’d given up so easily; perhaps it was clear in her eyes, or her tone of voice, that she wouldn’t be giving anything away. Not today.

  “But listen to me. I’m not taking sides, because he’s my brother, and you’re my best friend. But don’t make yourself – or him – unhappy. I’ve said this to him as well,” she whispered, conscious that their teacher had started the lesson. “Something big has clearly happened, but if there’s any way you two can sort it out, then do. You’re perfect together, Immy, and I think you both know that.”

  Imogen didn’t answer; their teacher gave them a glare, which was a good excuse – but she wouldn’t have answered anyway.

  She didn’t know what to say; she just didn’t know if they were good together anymore.

  ***

  She planned to disappear to her room once she was home – trying to pretend to be getting over a break-up was proving to be exhausting work, and she didn’t want to have to keep up an act in front of the Kingsleys – but her plans were ruined as she chucked her school bag at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Want to revise?” Sara asked. Imogen didn’t want to spend time with anyone – least of all her annoying cousin – but she really did need to revise. A voice at the back of her head told her that if she was revising, if someone was forcing her to revise, then she wouldn’t be able to sit and think.

  “Fine,” she said ungraciously, following Sara’s slim figure into the living room.

  “French?” she asked, and Sara nodded.

  “I can’t believe they’re chucking more mocks at us. As if one set aren’t enough – we’ve got our actual exams in two months, we don’t need any more!” Sara’s mindless babble did, in some small way, help her to block out her own thoughts, and for that she was grateful. A state of panic ensued every time she thought about the situation she was in. She zoned out from the conversation, flicking inattentively through a French revision guide, not paying attention to Sara’s prattle; the ongoing sound was enough to block out her own thoughts.

  “…and then I remember being about six, and I managed to break my foot tripping over the last stair. Aunt Ella was always patching me up after I’d fallen over something,” Sara said with a chuckle. Imogen wasn’t sure how the topic had got to this, but she thought she’d better appear to be listening.

  “You lived with Ella even then?” she asked, with little interest. She’d never quite understood why all the extended family lived under one roof, but it had never become a burning question – and now she cared even less. A sense of selfishness had taken over her, and she didn’t care how apathetic she sounded.

  “Yeah – Aunt Ella brought me up until I was about ten,” Sara said.

  This surprised Imogen slightly, and got her just a little more interested. It would explain the pair’s closeness, for sure, but it wasn’t a fact she’d known before Sara mentioned it.

  “Why?” she asked, and Sara’s brow furrowed slightly.

  “She can probably explain better than I can,” she said, glancing into the kitchen where Ella’s head was buried in a book.

  Silence descended as Sara turned back to the revision, suddenly clamming up. Imogen’s interest, however, was pricked by that point; curiosity winning over politeness, she headed into the kitchen, to interrogate Ella herself. Hell, anything but focus on her own problems.

  “Ella?” Imogen said, hopping up onto one of the bar stools.

  “Uh-huh?” Ella’s eyes continued to progress down the page until she’d finished it, before focusing her gaze on Imogen and folding the page’s corner down.

  “I was just talking to Sara, and there was something she thought you could explain to me – better than she could.” Ella didn’t show it, but she was pleased that Imogen was making conversation: she’d been locking herself in her room and avoiding them all since she’d split up from Zach.

  Ella knew the pregnancy was part of it, and understood that Zach had meant a lot to Imogen, but she wasn’t sure whether this response was normal – was it healthy for her to be so hung up on him, when she was only fifteen? Everyone had been a teenager once, it was true – but that didn’t mean everyone could clearly remember how they felt then. Ella wasn’t sure how she would have felt, or reacted, had she split up with someone at Imogen’s age…she felt a little out of her depth in dealing with Imogen’s problems.

  Taking her cue from Ella placing the book on the counter, Imogen continued.

  “She said you brought her up until she was ten…”

  “Yes, I did,” Ella said, reaching over the counter and flicking th
e kettle switch on. This didn’t look like it was going to be a quick conversation.

  “How come?” Imogen’s question was direct; she was never afraid of an adverse reaction. Well, almost never.

  “There wasn’t anyone else to do it,” she said, wondering whether William would mind her disclosing this story. Imogen was family, after all.

  “Amorette – that’s Sara’s mum – passed away when Sara was four. William – well, he didn’t deal with it too well. Who else was there?”

  “He dealt with it that badly – that he couldn’t look after Sara?” Imogen asked, finding herself surprised again at finding out the Kingsleys were not perfect.

  Ella nodded. “She was his life – he didn’t want to keep going, not once she was dead. And Sara…he loved her, don’t get me wrong. But she was a reminder; a reminder of the woman he loved and didn’t have any more. I guess depression is the only way you could describe it – he was so depressed, he didn’t get out of bed for weeks on end. We were lucky we had this house…” Ella trailed off; it was not a subject she liked discussing. Her brother had always been so strong when she was younger, and she hated thinking of him as being weak in any way.

  Imogen was doing the maths in her head, trying to work out Ella and Sara’s relative ages.

  “So you were…twenty when you took her on?” she asked.

  “Twenty-one,” Ella said.

  “Huh,” Imogen looked a little stunned, and Ella took advantage of her silence to get up and start making some coffee.

  “Sort of skipped the young-and-careless stage, didn’t you,” she said eventually, and Ella couldn’t help but smile.

  She guessed it could seem like that that, but that wasn’t how Ella saw it; she’d gained motherhood at the age of twenty-one, and since then, there was no stopping her…

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  By avoiding situations where she might have to speak to Zach, and keeping her phone firmly at the bottom of her drawer, the week passed by in somewhat of a blur. She knew she wasn’t emotionally ready to deal with Zach – if she spoke to him, tears would surely ensue – and so, childishly, she avoided talking to him. The end of the week she was happy about; it was celebrating her birthday that she didn’t want to do.

  She had disappeared early that Friday morning, so the Kingsleys had not had a chance to see her: that was the way she’d planned it. However, upon returning, they pounced.

  “Birthday!” Abby greeted, and Imogen forced a smile, picking up her little sister and squeezing her tight. She immediately felt guilty for neglecting her little sister in order to wallow in her own sorrows, and resolved to spend more time with her. She didn’t want to lose Abby too.

  “Happy Birthday Imogen!” the rest of the family chorused, and she tried to smile for them, too. They were clearly making an effort.

  “Thanks…”

  “We weren’t really sure what you wanted, or needed, so we thought money would be the most useful thing for you. I’m sorry if it seems impersonal, but we thought…” Ella trailed off, looking guilty, and Imogen shook her head. Since when had Imogen become the one who tried to appease others’ guilt?

  “No, no money’s great, honestly.” Ella handed her a savings account statement, and Imogen was shocked to see there was seven hundred pounds in there. Talk about generous.

  “That’s really great, honestly. Thank-you.” Imogen answered with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

  “There are a couple of presents for you, too – just some odd bits.” She pointed to a small pile of presents, neatly wrapped, in the corner.

  “Do you mind if I open them later?” Imogen asked, hoping Ella wouldn’t think she was being rude. She really wasn’t; when she wanted to be, she made it clear. “I’m just really exhausted – it’s been a long week, and the girls have planned this birthday night tonight...”

  She wasn’t sure why, but she almost felt guilty for concealing the fact that they were planning to go out drinking from Ella. Or maybe it was guilt at drinking at all… She shook her head to clear herself of the odd emotion, just as Ella nodded hers.

  “No, that’s fine, we understand. Take them up with you – you can open them when you get a chance then.”

  With a murmured thanks to her family, she headed for the stairs, knowing exactly what she wanted to do: curl up under the duvet and not come out again. It had been a long, long week.

  ***

  Hammering on her bedroom door interrupted her thoughts of sleep, and the guest barged in, uninvited. Unsurprisingly, it was Eve.

  “I thought we were meeting at Vi’s?” Imogen said, pulling the duvet back over her head once she’d seen it was Eve who had entered. She ignored the increased weight at the end of her bed as Eve sat down.

  “We are. But I had a suspicion you’d either not turn up, or turn up looking a state, so I thought I’d better stop here, first.” Her eyes swept the mess that was Imogen’s bedroom, and her figure curled beneath the covers, and raised an eyebrow. “Clearly it was a good thing that I decided to. Come on, get up – you go get in the shower, I’ll work out what you’re wearing.” Imogen groaned, but Eve did not take no for an answer. Ripping the covers off, the cold air accosted Imogen, and she was forced to move.

  “Fine. But you can’t make me enjoy it,” she said, slamming the bedroom door behind her. Eve smiled; once she got Imogen out, she hoped the birthday girl would forget all about her problems with Zach, whatever they were.

  Eve began by rifling through the wardrobe, and found a little black dress that was suitably dressed up for the occasion. She chose some matching accessories, shoes and a bag, and then set to work making the room look a little less lived-in. Eve wondered if Imogen, like Zach, had been spending every moment that she wasn’t at school in her bedroom; the evidence suggested she had.

  When Imogen returned, feeling only slightly more awake, she didn’t have time to appreciate the new tidy state of her bedroom. Evangeline immediately sat her down, and began working on her hair.

  “Eve. I don’t care what I look like – you don’t have to-”

  “Just because you’ve split up with my brother, it does not mean you can walk around looking like a panda that’s just rolled out of bed. We’re going out, and you’re going to look good,” Eve said. After that, Imogen didn’t bother to argue.

  A full half-hour of blow drying ensued, until Eve had teased every one of Imogen’s chocolate corkscrew curls into perfection. Next was the make-up, and Imogen was surprised to find that she looked a lot better than she felt, after Eve had finished with her. The black circles were gone, as were the red, puffy eyes.

  Eve had brought her own change of clothes with her, as she knew Imogen would object to stopping off at Monroe Manor (although, at this point, she was seriously considering just locking the pair in a room together until they’d sorted it all out) and so as the girls left Imogen’s bedroom, they were ready to head to Violet’s. It was a good job too – the whole process had taken so long, they only had ten minutes in which to get there.

  “Don’t be too late,” Ella said, as she heard the sound of high-heels on the stairs. Truth be told, she was glad that Imogen was getting out of the house – she just hoped she’d behave sensibly. Still, Imogen had said they were just going out for a meal, so there wasn’t too much to worry about…

  “See you later,” Imogen said, with little enthusiasm, as her best friend dragged her out the door.

  She tried to look happy.

  ***

  “That guy over there is staring at you,” Eve pointed out, cocktail in hand. Imogen didn’t even bother to look over, or respond, until Eve jabbed her in the ribs, assuming she hadn’t heard over the loud music.

  “I’m not interested, Eve – and he’s not staring at me. He’s staring at you.”

  “No, he’s definitely staring at you, Imogen – go over!”

  “He’s staring at you – can’t you see? And there’s Danny next to him. Probably staring to try and figure out what you�
�re doing in a club, before he rats you out to Zach.” She felt ridiculous for feeling it, but even saying his name was painful. The one person she’d never wanted to be weak in front of had reduced her to her weakest yet. Eve gasped.

  “Oh god, he’s going to tell Zach, I know it. Shit, shit, I didn’t tell him we were coming here – just that we were going for a meal!” As Eve panicked, Carrie beckoned him over.

  “What are you doing?” Eve and Imogen asked, exasperated by their friend’s unexpected behaviour.

  “This was meant to be girls only-” Imogen began, but Evangeline interrupted her.

  “We’re trying to avoid him! Why the hell do we want him over here?”

  “He’s seen us now,” Carrie said, “might as well persuade him not to tell Zach – else you’re going to be grounded for the rest of the year.”

 

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