"What is going on with you, Isabel? You're acting out, yelling, telling lies. This isn't like you," Mother said.
"Nothing," I grumbled.
"We know that recent events have been difficult but that doesn't give you the right to misbehave the way you have been. Your father and I are trying to understand where this behaviour is coming from, but it's hard to do so if you refuse to talk to us."
Mother looked at me from across the room. She had her arms folded across her chest and she stood near the window, the fading sunlight pouring in and giving her a strange, almost ethereal glow. Father was sitting in one of the armchairs with his fingers steepled together and a slight crease in his eyebrows. He looked to be thinking about something rather hard, most likely about me, but he allowed Mother to take point on the questioning.
Since we arrived home that afternoon, they had been giving me an intense interrogation regarding my behaviour, not that I really listened. I could hear Mother's voice, but most of it just washed over me and I stared out the window at the trees. Every now and then, I would see a small bird fly out from amongst the branches or hop along the ground on a quest for food. The birds were far more interesting than the questioning and overall feeling of the current situation.
"Are you even listening to your mother, Isabel?" Father said, relaxing his fingers. "I have a good mind to not allow you to go on this overnight event. With the way you have been behaving, I don't think you have earned the trust required to go on such an excursion."
"This is getting us nowhere," Mother said. "We just want to know why you didn't tell us where you would be after school."
"How could I have told you where I was going if I didn't know I needed to go to Uncle James' shop until after school finished? How exactly was I supposed to tell you where I would be? Walk in the opposite direction of the shop to your office to tell you? Or, walk right past the shop to Uncle Christopher and then have to backtrack to the shop, all the while missing out on time that could be spent doing my schoolwork?"
"Watch your tone, young lady."
"You need to calm down, Robert. This isn't helping."
"No, but neither is mollycoddling her."
"Fine, if it makes you happy I'll spend my afternoons standing outside the school gates, even in the pouring rain, so you know where I am. Is that better?" I groaned. "I get it, I can't stay overnight with Evelyn on Saturday. Can I go? I have schoolwork to finish, and as you keep reminding me, school is important."
Mother let out an exasperated sigh and glanced at Father who nodded his head slightly. I took that to mean I was free to go so swung my satchel onto my shoulder and ran up the stairs to my room with my satchel hitting me in the hip with every step. My heart hammered away in my chest and I knew it had nothing to do with climbing the stairs and more to do with what had just unfolded in the drawing-room.
When I reached my room, I hauled open the door before closing it behind me and then throwing my satchel onto the bed. I pressed my forehead against the cool wood of the door, taking several deep breaths to try and calm the anger rising in my chest. Heat felt like it was radiating off my body and through my veins with the cold sensation of the door doing little to combat the heat.
My chest squeezed, almost like someone had tied a cord or a bit of rope around me and had pulled it as tight as possible. The rope felt like it was being pulled tighter and tighter to the point that I struggled to breathe in even the smallest amount of air. I turned and pressed my back against the door, sliding down to sit on the floor with my palms pressed flat against the floor. The rope got tighter.
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Will and Testament // Sequel to the Rosie Grey series
Historical FictionThis story is a sequel to the 'Rosie Grey series' although it can be read as a stand-alone, I would recommend reading that series first. **** A trip to the beach and a paddle in the sea is fourteen-year-old Isabel Ealing's idea of bliss. Isabel's m...