My Mother's Daughter

Chapter 22

Worrying over her stepmother's actions had almost robbed her of one of her happiest moments in life, that is, rising at dawn to see her father off to work, and then going to breakfast. Rebecca was dressed in a chalk white silk laced-back blouse, faded beaded jeans, with a matching beaded crochet belt. Her hair was held in a slack ponytail, not neatly groomed as always. In the hall she sat on a leather chair, reading a fashion magazine.

It was only an hour before nine o'clock. She waited for Elizabeth to stir from her slumber.

Elizabeth stretched and got out of bed. Truthfully, she hardly slept, since she was plagued by unsettling dreams and strange noises. The room was bright from the rays of sunshine, and she narrowed her eyes as she drew the heavy curtains together. She padded to the spa-like bathroom and turned on the shower, while brushing her teeth. Not feeling like soaking in the tub, Elizabeth took a quick bath.

Wrapped in a fluffy white linen robe, she walked to her closet and pulled open the doors. Varying expressions morphed her features as Elizabeth's forehead crinkled in confusion, then her eyes opened wide with incredulity, before overcasting with anger. She shrieked the only name willing to cause her distress,

"Rebecca!"

Rebecca kept her eyes glued to the magazine, as Elizabeth trampled down the stairs. Seconds later, the glossy pages were ripped from her fingers and a bundle of clothes dumped on her lap.

"What's this?" Rebecca inquired.

"You're asking? Are you really a complete fool?"

"Are you really asinine?" The younger of the two ladies stood, and the stitched cloths tumbled to the floor. Her stepmother's volcanic temper boiled for eruption. Rebecca continued, "Silly me, there I go asking answers again. Look Elizabeth, l don't understand why you are so upset. I only did you a favour, like you so generously did to me yesterday."

"But these are the clothes I bought you. Where are mine?"

"Yes, you bought them for me, but your exceptional taste is more your style, not mine. As for your previous outfits, I had them donated."

"You what?! They were expensive clothes!"

"So were mine."

"This is not even my size."

"And it is not my fault." She kicked the bundle of clothes in Elizabeth's direction. "Enjoy them you crazy wrench, and please go put on some clothes. Downstairs in a robe? I really thought you had more pride in yourself Elizabeth." Rebecca picked up the magazine and walked away, leaving the fuming woman glaring at her murderously.

It was almost midday when Elizabeth stomped back downstairs. To avoid the brat, she had opted to have breakfast in her room. The maids were forced to taste it first, just in case it was poisoned. She wore a lavender pinstripe knee-length dress, with fringes on the neck, the base of the dress, and at the end of the long sleeves. Furthermore, it was too tight and suffocating. She felt any sudden movements would burst the stitches and cause the ill-fitting apparel to fall apart.

Elizabeth grumbled, like a hungry predator who had missed the opportunity of slaying its prey. Her morning was spent contacting her seamstress, who unfortunately was out of the country. The clothing stores she preferred, although happy for the sale, were too busy to deliver. Other times she received the answering machine or a busy tone.

Enraged and distracted beyond what was considered customary, Elizabeth marched into the living room, only to be stapled to the ground, startled. Stunned, familiar faces gawked at her.