Footprints in the Sand

17. The Bleak Existence of Florence Shadow

It was a week before Rory, Eliza, and I managed to talk Mum into coming back to Devon. Eliza had managed to get the kids into a local school, and get herself a few interviews in that week. She was staying with us while she looked for a home of her own: she was adamant she wasn’t going back to London. Of course, Rory, Eliza, and I were discussing the funeral, but nothing had run past Mum yet. And of course, we were being bombarded by media. Everyone knew about Sian, Henry, and Lauren, therefore they all wanted a photo of the Five Shadow’s. Dad’s name had even been put on their birth certificates, proving them to finally be family. But Dad’s death, just less than three weeks before my eighteenth birthday, that was what shook me more than anything. But I had to get along with life; it was what I did.

            I went to school just days after Dad’s departure from the world of men, and getting harassed by the media didn’t even bother Rory or I. We were too numb to care. I had a solitary silence to everyone other than my family, Nick, and the Quadruplets, and of course, Austin. The teachers accepted my silence as my grieving, and were pleased I was still working. Working distracted me.

The day Mum came home, I took the day off school, and sat with her; my Uncle, Dad’s brother, Mitchell, and his wife, kids, and my grandparents descended. I sat quietly with Mum, both of us just staring blankly at the TV while Eliza typed rapidly on her laptop. The doorbell rang, and I went to answer it. In the doorway stood another four kids, age 14 down to 8, my 45-year-old uncle, and his 36-year-old wife, as well as my grandparents.

“Hey.” I whispered, opening the door to them,

“Florence.” My oldest cousin, Johanna, said, glaring and me and breezing through the front door. This was the moment I was most glad I’d agreed that Sian and Lauren could share my room. Johanna’s little sister, Amelia-Jane-and-nothing-other-than-Amelia-Jane, swanned in next, and the two boys, Oliver and Will, charged in. Despite my cousin’s behaviour, their mother was a kind, sweet woman, Native American origin, and beautiful with large brown, sparkling eyes, and long, jet black hair. She hugged me as she walked in, her American accent prominent.

“Are you coping okay, Flo?” She whispered in my ear. I nodded,

            “Yeah, thanks, Auntie Sophia.” I managed to whisper. She held my shoulders and looked me in the eye,

            “I am so sorry for what you’ve experienced, and the fact that my husband and in-laws refuse to stay anywhere else.”

            “Mum’s not coping. Seb’s coming over later, gonna try and get her outa here. We’ll get take-out.”

            “You really think Robert and Janet will agree to that?” Robert and Janet were my grandparents, or as I had to call them Grandfather and Grandmother.

            “Their son is dead; they invade the house; and then they expect real food. Pfft, that ain’t happening.”

            “Fair point.” Sophia giggled. I smiled kindly at her.

            “Thanks, again.” I led my aunt inside. Rory had already shown our disastrous family to their rooms, so I led my aunt up to the small room that she and Mitchell were in. Mitchell was already unpacking.

            “Are you okay, Florence?” He asked. He looked so like Dad, but so different, same features, different colour; brown curly hair, cropped fairly short; brown eyes with the same sparkle; a similar face. He was a big time banker, so he was used to a certain style of life.

            “I’m coping.” I remarked. Mitchell nodded.

            “That’s good. Better than Prudence is doing.”

            “I can distract myself with schoolwork; Mum can’t.”

            “You’re speaking too colloquially. Did Avery never teach you how to talk effectively and properly?” Grandmother asked as she walked along the hallway. I sighed.

            “I choose to speak how I wanna: my life, my choices.” I answered perhaps a little rudely.

            “I expect better from my oldest grandchild.”

            “Rory is your oldest.”

            “Illegitimate bastard.”

            “And you complain my language is abysmal?”

            “I am only stating a fact, Florence.”

            “So am I.” And I stormed off to my room. I lay on my bed and tears began to trickle down my face. Grandmother and Grandfather annoyed me exponentially. They were harder to please than Dad had been. As far as they were concerned, I needed four A’s at AS, let alone what was expected of me at the end of the year. I heard a car come up the drive. I stood up and looked from my window; Eliza’s car. I smiled a little and ran down the stairs, breezing past my extended family. I saw a figure with brown hair step from the car, Nick, and I ran straight into his arms, crying. I was so happy to see him.

            “Hey… hey, it’s okay.” Nick whispered as I cried into his t-shirt. Sian, Lauren, and Henry climbed out of the car, and walked inside with Eliza. I lifted my head just in time.

            “They’re here.” I warned. Eliza nodded and led her offspring inside. I looked Nick in his beautiful blue eyes and smiled at him.

            “I’m sorry for what is about to happen to you.” I smiled a little,

            “How many are there?” Nick asked,

            “My grandparents, Robert and Janet; Uncle Mitchell and Aunt Sophia; their kids, Johanna, Amelia-Jane, Oliver, and Will; the four Blake’s; Rory; and us.”

            “So, fourteen of us for tea?”

            “Yeah.” I groaned, and led my Nick inside. “I’m back at school tomorrow.”

            “Sounds like fuuuun.” Nick chuckled as we headed towards the house. My grandparents, uncle and cousins took one look at him and stuck their noses up. He was too normal for them, not good enough. But I led him into the house, up to my room, and sat on my sofa. I kissed Nick gently, passionately, lovingly. And annoying, stuck up, pigheaded Amelia-Jane walks in.

            “Gross. I’m surprised Uncle Avery let you two get it together.” She remarked,

            “Shut it, Millie.” I said snidely.

            “My name is Amelia-Jane.”

            “Which is why I called you Millie.” For a 12-year-old, she had some attitude. I expected it, sort of, from Johanna, but not a 12-year-old.

            “Whatever, Flo.” She flung her hair around and flounced out of the door.

            “I prefer that name, Millie!” I shouted back at her. I heard her hmph as she stomped down the stairs. I snuggled into Nick’s arms and sighed,

            “Welcome to the Wonderful of the Shadow’s.” I whispered, kissing Nick gently on the cheek.

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A/N

Yes, another short one, but you got a tonne more characters introduced, including the stroppy Johanna and Amelia-Jane, and trust me, they might become important. Anyway, PLEASE vote/comment! 

Meggieissi xxx