A Storm of Paper Starlings

6. When Aunts Cry

I stagger downstairs at ten o'clock, looking like the last survivor of the zombie apocalypse. I squeak across the lino in the kitchen, grab a bowl, and reach across the table for the Weetabix.

My head hurts, so after breakfast, I look for Jess. I don't get far.

She's bouncing down the stairs like she's a lamb and not a human. "I've been looking for you."

"You're excessively perky," I say. "I need paracetamol."

She frowns. "How bad is it? Should I take you back to the hospital?"

"Nah, it's just a headache. No nausea or anything. I had brekkie."

"You've got a visitor."

"It's not more foster parents, is it? Because seriously, that last pair were so boring, I ditched them for my maths homework." She smirks. "They really were that bad. This is my serious face."

I joke about it now, but the truth is it's been a long time since anyone's been interested in fostering me. I'm too old. Long past cute. All visits ended the same way, with me being quiet, and them lowering their voices, thinking I can't hear them asking the social worker what's wrong with me. They'd already decided they didn't want me and still they'd ask. It was just morbid curiosity sweeping through one person who didn't want me to the next. People thinking they were entitled to my story even when they didn't want to be part of it.

"It's not foster parents," says Jess. "Her name's Eden Penhaligon. She's a relative."

I freeze.

"You alright, Vi?"

I nod, even though I'm not. Nothing for almost sixteen years, then two relatives show up in forty-eight hours? "How do you know we're really related?"

"Obviously, I asked for ID. She came loaded with documents. She's your mother's sister. But really, Violet, she doesn't need ID. Come and see."

"Shouldn't I get changed first? I look like crap. And I need a shower."

"Make it quick. I'll grab you some tablets while you get ready. We'll be in the front room."

* * *

I don't know what I expected when I pushed the door open. My own eyes in a much older face stare back at me. She's an older version of the girl in the photo, with more lines around her eyes and threads of grey in her hair. She's shorter than me, but not by much, and she's slimmer, like my mum. I'm not any kind of skinny orphan.

Eden stands when I approach, staring at me while her eyes fill up with tears. Then she's a mess, sobbing into her hands while she mutters incoherent things. Eamonn, one of the other support workers, comes in and walks straight back out again.

"I'll get some tea," says Jess.

I'm not sure how to greet this woman who is unmistakably my aunt, so I hold out my hand in a half wave, half shake kind of gesture. She stares at it.

"Nice to meet you," I say. Don't be surprised I have manners. "Um, do you need a tissue?"

She shakes her head and rummages in her bag, pulling out a large hankie.

I point at the sofa. "Do you wanna sit down?"

She nods and we both sit. I look away as she trumpets into her hankie and sorts herself out.

"I'm sorry," she says eventually, rubbing sanitiser frantically into her hands. "The last time I saw your mother, she was about your age. She ran away, and I never saw her again. We didn't know you'd survived until yesterday. We were told by the doctor attending the birth that the baby was stillborn."

"Doctor?"

"Madigan? Morrison? Something like that. I was so distraught when I took the call, his name washed right over me. How could I forget something like that?"

And all I'm thinking is Morrigan.

Sean Morrigan didn't say he was my father, and how could he be? He only said he was Amethyst's father, and I couldn't find myself in his sad, pale face either way.

But here, in Eden Penhaligon's face, I see it. In the trembling curve of her mouth as she tries to control her tears, in her wide, purplish eyes intent on mapping every freckle on my face, there I am. Even softened by tears, her face is a sharper version of mine, bleached of even the freckles spattering my nose and cheeks. We might look alike, but I'm sure I've never cried that much.

"Do you know who my father is?"

"I'm sorry, no. We never met any of Amy's friends."

"Amy," I repeat, like it's somehow weird that my mum had a name.

"Well, Amethyst, but she preferred Amy. Partly because it annoyed our mother so much, but mostly because she wanted to blend in."

"It's a pretty name," I say. "Is your mother—" I have no idea how to finish my sentence.

"She died last month," Eden says quietly.

"I'm sorry."

"Please, don't be. She wasn't much of a mother. My dad lives with us. He wanted to come today, but he's ill."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Pneumonia. I didn't want to leave him, but when I said I'd wait until he was better, he threatened to come himself unless I got my backside down here." Her laughter is soft, and I wonder if my mum's laugh was the same.

"So, he wants to meet me?"

"Of course. He wasn't impressed when his doctor told him to stay put." The skin around her eyes wrinkles when she smiles. "He's pretty dreadful to be around when he can't do what he wants."

"Where do you live?"

"Near Oxford," she says. "We'd like you to visit if it's allowed. Not immediately, unless you want to? Whenever you're ready."

"I don't know. I mean, I don't know if I'm allowed. I'll have to ask Jess."

She smiles again and squeezes my hand. "Everyone's dying to meet you."

"Everyone?"

"Your cousins," she says. "I have four sons."

* * *

When the request goes in for my visit to Oxfordshire, it's declined. Jess scowls like a cat on the wrong end of a hose when she returns after the meeting.

Sometimes, it feels like I'm living in a doll's house, the back of it open, so I can be constantly watched and moved about by an invisible hand. To avoid suspicion, I'm coerced into giving up my privacy. I'm not sure why I even call it that. It can't be privacy if protecting it makes them think I'm hiding something... if it makes them poke and pry.

Within days, Jess turns a no into a yes, like she's got some kind of magic. Apparently, they need time to do checks, and Eden wants to visit me a few times beforehand, so I'm comfortable with her.

The Oxfordshire visit isn't for a couple of weeks, but Eden and her eldest son are coming down for my birthday at the weekend. We always have a birthday tea at Pandora's, but I've never had relatives to invite before.

The whole thing is bound to be embarrassing because it's tradition to have the most childish birthday parties possible at Pandora's, and because Jess is busy dealing with the most annoying social worker known to man, she's letting Leia plan. Leia is a small child when it comes to party games. There's no way this is a good thing.

My cousin, Seth, is an environmental science genius. He's picking up an award at a fancy ceremony at The Science Museum the day before my birthday, so Eden asked if they could visit.

Now I'm panicking, because what if Seth doesn't like me? What do I talk to a science genius about when I have the scientific brain power of algae? And also, Leia is an unstoppable flirt. What could possibly go wrong?

AUTHOR NOTE: Thanks so much for reading. I appreciate you and hope you have a fantastic day! 😊