Life Swap

Family

I looked up from my reading book, and Chloe beamed at me. I smiled back, and then Grace grinned, and nudged me with her elbow, in a friendly way, before returning her attention to her Latin prep, which was what Deepdene seemed to call homework. We were all sitting at a table in the huge kitchen of the Montague's big house, still wearing our full school uniforms, blazers and all, which Olivia's stepsisters seemed to find perfectly normal. It was four-forty-five, if the clock on the wall was accurate, and we had been home since four. I did not have any prep, as I had been on the school trip, but apparently, my year seven class were reading 'Swallows and Amazons' in English, and whilst the twins were doing their daily prep, I had been told to read that, just to give me something useful to do, I suppose. And prep was done in silence, according to Caroline, which was far easier for me than it was for Chloe and Grace. I needed the silence to cope, because my mind was still doing cartwheels.

I had met them just after my nappy change, as Caroline walked me out of Mrs Blackstone's office. They had been sitting in a reception area, waiting for us, and as soon as they saw me, I was engulfed; they leapt up and ran at me, squealing with delight, but also desperate to see for themselves that I was all in one piece. Deep in the dark recesses of my mind, Olivia's remnants dismissed them as pathetic little babies, but I only felt their love. Not that I could really cope with it, of course. Caroline had to almost peel them off of me, and struggled to stop their endless questions, whilst my petrified reticence just seemed to worry them all even more. But when they hugged me, I hugged them back, and that seemed to mean something. I was not sure what it meant, but I was in no fit state to think about it, and Caroline took over, shepherding us out to her car, and hurrying us all home. The twins were still asking questions, because they were not really sure what had happened, but I was not answering them, mostly. I just sat in a child seat, one of three, in the back of the very big car, between them, my mind racing all over the place, saying yes or no occasionally, whilst Caroline tried to calm everyone down and reassure the twins that I was just a little bit upset and not really in the mood to be interrogated. But what little progress she made was undermined by the presence of Charles Montague, when we got home. It was all too much for me all over again, and when Caroline intervened, and insisted on some prep getting done, it was such a relief.

"Charles...called me Mummy...not just once...cried so much..." I heard Caroline saying to her husband, from the hall, I thought, although I could not see them, and I could not hear every word they were saying to each other, even though the kitchen door was slightly ajar. "Scared...I think...totally different to how she was, even this morning...the way she held me...something bad happened and she is...never cries...and she was wailing...so upset...howling..."

"She had a fright...didn't hit her head...clean bill of health?" Charles replied, annoyingly mostly inaudible. I did not know what to make of him, at all, so far. Olivia's remnants, as I was starting to think of the feelings I had, in the back of my mind, adored him, but I was not overly keen on the male of our species. My own father was an arse. He had let me down so often, over the years, that I had stopped expecting him ever to do what he promised, and mum never got the regular monthly payments he was supposed to give her, for his share of the bills and looking after Kelly, I mean me. And Martin, the boyfriend, was a waste of space. But Charles Montage was different, somehow. He had hugged me, and seemed really concerned, but he had also got the full treatment from the twins. Not his daughters, my remnants reminded me, but he clearly really loved them, and so did I, albeit only on the evidence of about an hour. They were fiercely worried about me, their concern written all over their adorable faces.

"Olivia...are you alright?" Grace whispered, leaning close. She had been told not to talk, and that was clearly important to her, because she was undoubtedly the sort of kid who did as she was told most of the time, but she was still more concerned about me. And her mother was not in the room to catch her.