What came Next (A Short Story Collection)

Butterflies

Robert bounced on the balls of his feet, his pocket heavy as the nerves built up.

He had practised his speech countless times over the past few days but even that couldn't stop the nerves building in the pit of his stomach. No amount of practice or preparation would help him, or at least that was what his father had said. The more his nerves grew, the more he trusted his father's judgement. Robert had never felt nerves like it before and wondered just how he would get through the next few hours without vomiting. Even his examinations felt like a breeze compared to what he had planned.

"How are you feeling?" his father asked, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder

"Like I might vomit the moment I open my mouth."

"You'll be fine, my boy. This is a good thing and I am more than certain that this will be a memory that stays with you forever."

"Yes, because I vomited all over the floor and ruined James' rug."

His father laughed. "At least it would be a fun story to tell at parties."

"I don't think I'd be able to show my face anywhere ever again. I would be too embarrassed."

"Deep breath. Nothing will go wrong." He squeezed Robert's shoulder before heading off in search of Charlotte and Zachariah who had disappeared the moment there was work to be done.

Robert took a deep breath and reached into his pocket, wrapping his fingers around the small box that held so much importance. It may have only been small, a family heirloom that had been passed on, but on that day it was the most important thing Robert had ever held. That box would either make or break that evening's festivities and would be the pinnacle moment in his relationship. Everything was riding on that small box; it held all the power.

To try and distract himself from the ticking of the clock, Robert went off in search of something to do elsewhere in the house. The Greyson Christmas parties had become a staple in the event calendar for many since they had reappeared several years before. There was always an awful lot to do the morning before to ensure it all went smoothly and Robert wasn't going to allow his nerves to get in the way of helping.

He ventured down to the kitchen where Mrs Baker and Miss Jenkins were putting the finishing touches to the array of biscuits and sweets they had been making. The table in the centre of the room groaned under the weight of gingerbread, shortbread, marmalade ice, Christmas cake, and mince pies along with various other sweet treats. Robert didn't think he would be able to eat anything given the nerves chewing away in his stomach, but he did appreciate the smell.

"Are these ready to go upstairs?" he asked, eyeing up the gingerbread.

"Yes." Mrs Baker gave him a pointed look. "Be sure they all make it upstairs. Don't you go pilfering one or two on your way up."

"Me? Eat any of these delicious treats before the guests arrive? I feel insulted."

Miss Jenkins looked at Robert with a raised eyebrow. "I watched you grow up. You and your brother both have sticky fingers when it comes to sweets, as you well know."

"That was when I was a boy, things are different now."

"A leopard never changes its spots, Master Robert."

"I'm not a leopard."

Robert grabbed two plates from the table and balanced them cautiously on the palms of his hand. The smell of ginger and cinnamon filled his nose and it took every ounce of restraint he possessed to bite the entire plate the moment he emerged in the hallway. Ginger was supposed to be good for nausea and he couldn't see the problem with having a small nibble of the gingerbread before the party really started. If it helped to settle his stomach, Robert decided it was worth the wrath of the two cooks.