You Are So Not a Fallen Angel

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I didn’t move until the shadows were stretching out across the lawn. One less day of summer left, one less day before life started up properly again. One less day of monotony. One day until my aunt and uncle and cousin vacated the premises and let us get back to our lives.

I went inside to have a shower and to inspect the evolution of my tan. I had to be sure to make the most of the good weather, as it certainly wouldn’t last. My friends would be returning from holidays in exotic places, brown as nuts, and it would be mortifying if I was still pasty white. I wouldn’t be able to compete, but I wasn’t going to forfeit outright.  

“Eliza, why aren’t you dressed yet?” my mother asked as I reached the bottom of the stairs. I glanced down at myself, wondering if I had forgotten to put my clothes back after my shower. But now, I was still attired in pink sundress and flip-flops.

“Go and put on something proper,” she said, before clattering away to the kitchen. “The guests will be arriving soon.”

I groaned. I had forgotten that it was Saturday and therefore my parents’ weekly extravaganza. Every week, they invited a bunch of people over to our house, and had what they liked to refer as a drinks party and what Eli and I called a crashing bore. Tonight was going to be especially big, in honour of our “guests”. Spending the evening with a bunch of my father’s golfing buddies and their stuck-up wives, what a perfect way to spend a Saturday evening. Not.

I tramped upstairs again and rummaged in my cupboard, finally pulling out The Dress. It was the ugliest dress I owned. It was black and grey checks, with a wide lace collar and a flapping, ankle length skirt. It was at least one size too big, so it bagged around the waist and the bust. I couldn’t remember under what circumstances it had been bought, but it had probably been rather expensive. I kept it just for these occasions, because it annoyed my mother and because it didn’t encourage my father’s friends to get frisky once they had one or two whiskeys under their belts. And Flora’s face when she saw me was priceless. Her eyes practically popped from her skull. True to form, she was wearing a dress that was barely there, so barely there in fact that it probably counted as a tee-shirt.

My mother scowled and shook her head when she saw me, but she didn’t say anything, realizing it was useless to try to get me to change my mind. I drifted out of the front door and onto the lawn where the party was in full swing. A bunch of crusty old relics, lawyers and solicitors my parents knew from work, were dotted about on the grass, holding an informal competition about who could tell the longest and least interesting anecdote. There were also some neighbour and other rich people from the town. There was Mr Tinner, talking with my uncle, a pale, drawn Cole standing at his shoulder.

I headed over to the refreshment table and made a valiant attempt to secure myself something with alcohol in it, but I was caught in the act by my brother and was firmly handed a coke and told to be happy with it. Flora sidled up and tried the same trick, and was also rebuked. Eli had been given a mission, and he was going to stick to it.

“Somebody save me,” I muttered, as I blew my fringe out of my eyes.

“Did the lady call for me?” I yelped and whirled around, my drink slipping from my hand and spilling onto my feet and the grass. I didn’t care or even notice. I was too busy drowning in a pair of eyes. Eyes which were bluer than lapis lazuli.

“Whoa, steady there.” He caught my arm as I swayed.

“You’re real,” I murmured, backing away. He kept hold on my arm. “You’re really real.”

 “That’s me alright. As real as real can be.”

“I thought you might have been –“ I broke off, confused. Now he was here, I wasn’t sure what to do with him. And why did it have to be when I was wearing The Dress?