Egotism and Enmity

Chapter Two

Chapter Two:

"Angry people are not always wise."

The next morning, I happened to accidentally sleep in. Mum had asked me, the night before, to be up 'bright and early' (that very phrase fills me with absolute horror during the holidays), so that I could help her finish getting everything ready for the evening before her parents arrived. I have a vague recollection of Jane nudging at my shoulder to wake me up, but everything after that is...fuzzy. So when I looked at the bedside clock through squinty, sleep-filled eyes and saw that it was half past eleven, I knew that I would be in for it. I groaned and swung my legs out of bed and threw on an old t-shirt and denim shorts.

"And where have you been?" Mum all but shrieked at me, as soon as I came into the kitchen. I could tell that she was stressed by the way she was absent-mindedly running her hand through her hair in between attempts to shove a huge tray of chicken into the oven.

"Didn't hear my alarm," I grunted. I was not a fan of waking up early when I didn't have to. Or even when I had to, for that matter; the kids at school know that they have to be on their best behaviour until about ten. I walked over to where Mum was crouching by the oven, took the tray from her and slotted it into the oven. Smiling, she stood and patted my head like I was a toddler again.

"Would you do me a favour, darling, and go and help Lydia and your father set up tables in the marquee?"

I was about to protest but after looking out the kitchen window to the garden, I took pity on Dad, who was trying to carry about a trillion plates and cutlery sets between tables, with no help from Lydia, who was sitting on the grass filing her nails. I slid on my canvas flip-flops and went out into the garden.

"Are you alright, Dad?" I asked, picking up a stray pile of plates and cutlery, and mimicking the way he was laying them on the table.

"Yes, love. I'm just trying to remember how your mother managed to trick me into doing all this."

"How did she persuade you to have a party? I don't think you ever told me."

"It must have had something to do with golf, otherwise I wouldn't have caved." There was nothing Dad loved more than golf and nothing that he detested as much as social occasions. Although he was convincingly charming when talking to people, I would always notice him tapping his foot on the floor or drumming his fingers on the nearest surface in impatience. It's pretty clear that I take after my dad more than my mum.

We stayed out in the garden for ages, trying our best to make it look exactly how Mum wanted it to. Needless to say, due to her control freak status, she felt the need to come and 'direct' us a good few times, but by four o'clock, an hour before the guests were due to arrive, we were finished. Mum poked her head out of the kitchen window and inspected our handiwork. She was in her dressing gown, with her hair all done up in curlers. "Why are you two still out here?" She exclaimed when she saw us still slaving away. "What's taken you so long? You're never going to be ready in time!"

"Well there's gratitude for you," I heard Dad mutter, but I saw him give her a peck on the cheek as he passed her on his way inside. Why couldn't I find someone to love unconditionally, even when I found them as irritating as my mother?

"Lizzie! You can't wear denim shorts to Mum's evening party – she'll disown you!" Jane eyed my outfit, an expression of disapproval and horror on her pretty features.

I sighed. "I know she won't exactly like it, but this really is all I have with me."

Jane smacked a hand onto her forehead. "I can't believe you left your dress at home after all that trouble we had in getting it in the first place."