My Mother's Daughter

Chapter 8

Rebecca descended the stairs, humming a children's nursery rhyme. The soak in the tub had exfoliated even her frustration towards her stepmother. Her good mood softened her heart and granted mercy in Elizabeth's favour, so that Rebecca wore her own apparels that evening. A bit mischievous she added something new, her mother's wedding ring.

Two of the maids hurried to the dining room, eyes averted. Her steps faltered. That was odd, she thought. Normally, the house or garden servants greeted her with a pleasant smile. Something was terribly amidst, and she had a feeling the reason would be revealed very soon.

Rebecca opened the door to the dining room and entered. Nothing unusual happened, like the sting of a bullet, the slice from a knife, or the deadly pounce of a tiger. Calm down girl, she coaxed herself as she caged her wild imagination. It's just another boring evening with stepmother. Unexpectedly, her stepmother seemed to be eagerly awaiting her arrival. The hairs on her neck rose like the waves of a tsunami. The threat was evident but not apparent.

Father had not yet arrived. Rebecca sat in her usual chair at the table, expertly unfolding her napkin, and adjusted it on her lap. Dinner was already served. Both their meals lay hidden under silver covers.

"Aren't we waiting for father?" Asked Rebecca, as she wondered why her stepmother sat in her father's chair.

"No my dear, he called earlier and said he would be arriving later tonight. He had to attend an urgent meeting that could not be cancelled." Elizabeth answered honestly. "It looks like we'll be dining alone tonight."

"It appears so." Indeed, something was amiss. Rebecca trembled inwardly, yet showed nonchalance outwardly. Slowly, she put her hand on the knob of the cover and lifted, but did not look at her plate. Her stepmother did the same and did not look at hers either. Both Charles stared at each other, trying desperately to read the other's thoughts. Elizabeth smiled.

"Eat up dear, before your dinner gets cold." Saying nothing, Rebecca inhaled, her nostrils filled with the savoury scent of herb and spices. She picked up the fork and finally looked down. The fork clinked onto the table, her breathing and heart paused in union, while her mouth fell open unbelievingly. "What's the matter Rebecca, don't you like roast duck?" The young lady swallowed repeatedly to quench her parched throat and luckily she began to breathe again. Her heart slammed against her rib cage like waves against rocks. She felt nauseated.

"Jesse." Rebecca whispered hoarsely. The shock subsided, loosening its frozen grip on her feet, and she jumped away from the table, shaking her head in denial as she backed away.

"Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca. Did you really believe you could hide this from me? Maybe you could hide your mother's clothes and accessories, but not this! It's just ridiculous. Wake up child, it is a harsh world we live in, and in this life you have to pay for even nothing. And on this estate everything has a price. That pet of yours got free service living here, now it's got to serve us. Or should I say now it's served to us." Elizabeth chuckled triumphantly, stabbed the delicate meat with her fork, and chewed it with relish, savouring the victory of her cunning plan.

"Tastes delicious! Come on, dig in, or have you lost your appetite?"

No wonder the maids acted so strange, they were aware and were probably threatened with secrecy. Rebecca closed her eyes and prayed for strength, so as not to faint. Anger and pain burned her chest. Noting Elizabeth's victorious, smug smile, Rebecca breathed deeply to control her rising temper. Her features, which moments before looked like cotton, had now begun to retain its natural colour.

That sordid woman, Rebecca thought, continued to take life from her without remorse. She needed to do something to stop the vicious cycle, before she went insane. By insane she meant crossing the lines her stepmother so effortlessly disregarded.

With a face devoid of expression, Rebecca returned to the table and again sat down. She retrieved her fork and shoved a piece of the meat into her mouth. Masticating carefully, she lifted her eyebrows and sighed dreamily.

"It does taste delicious. I should have made a meal of it a long time ago." Rebecca reached for the mashed potatoes, then took the wine bottle and poured until the glass was full. Carefully, she set the glass next to Elizabeth's plate, then put the bottle to her lips and drank generously.

Astonished with the girl's ability to eat, Elizabeth's triumph slowly withered. Loathing shone in her eyes for the girl who continued to help herself to the other dishes. Her own appetite vanished, and wickedly she pushed her plate towards the girl, indicating that she better eat it as well. Rebecca did not complain, determined to complete both meals to her stepmother's chagrin.

With the dishes and wine bottle empty, Rebecca slumped in the chair. Not bothering to cover her mouth, she burped long and loud. She was stuffed.

"That's disgusting!" Elizabeth cried.

"And so are you." Rebecca replied. "Are you going to drink that?" Elizabeth stared at the full glass of wine and nearly retched. She did not answer. Rebecca, though full to the brink of exploding, took the glass and drained its rich contents, passing her tongue like a wiper on the inside of the glass. Again Rebecca burped, and it was twice as long and loud. Elizabeth closed her eyes in disgust, horrified at the public display of unladylike behaviour.

"Where are your table manners, you filthy pig?"

"Maybe I swallowed it along with the rest of my dinner." Rebecca retorted with a shrug of her shoulders. She sighed and stared at the ceiling. "You know something Elizabeth, you can't hurt me anymore. I'm done hurting over the things you've done and do. I hope you really get lost in the flames of hell for taking another life from me. Here's another name to add to your list of victims. Jesse. That was the name of my duck, and a name I'll never let you forget." Using the table as a prop, she got to her feet and ambled out the door.

"Good night you witch, and may peace never be with you." How she made it to her room without falling was beyond her knowledge. Carefully, Rebecca lowered to the edge of the bed and forced herself to remain still. The urge to run to the bathroom and throw up from the sudden bile which bubbled in her throat, was almost as great as her will to win this battle. She felt sick of food, wine and her stepmother. Her stepmother. What a woman! Jesse. What a duck!

She lay against the backboard of the bed, hoping the room would stop spinning. So this is what it's like to be drunk, she thought, feeling the world sway and blur around her. Nothing provided comfort. Not the bed or her thoughts. Sleep certainly might be impossible tonight. Rebecca did not bother to change into her nightwear. May another night have that opportunity, she groaned. She moved her right hand and held it in front of her face.

The soft moonlight stealing into the bedroom from between the thick curtains, danced upon the pink diamond on the ring. It splayed across the walls displaying haphazard patterns, which resembled a handmade quilt. Downstairs she heard the front door open and close. Her father had arrived. Luckily, she was too old to be checked upon, and her father with her stepmother in stride, passed by her door and entered their own.

Rebecca closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Another day was quickly approaching, and it held the promise of a new beginning.