Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice

Chapter 3: Unfamiliar Face

"Katrina! Wake up! You're gonna be late for school!" Lydia's voice cut through the walls of the house and made her eldest daughter squirm. Katrina rolled back over and shut her eyes.
  Downstairs, Lydia was busying herself making breakfast and making sure Beth had everything she needed.
"Are you excited?" She said, watching the little girl pull on her school shoes and struggle with the laces.
"I wish you'd got me Velcro." Was the only reply.
"You're eight years old!" Lydia raised her brows, "You should be a whiz at laces by now."
"Are you taking us in the car?"
"No, the walk is only ten minutes and it'll do you good."
Beth stretched up to kiss her mother on the cheek before scooping up her bag and heading for the door.
"Wait for your sister." Lydia warned, "Don't trot off by yourself."
"If I wait for Katrina, I'll never get there." Beth grumbled. It was true. Katrina always slept in until the last second, but this was pushing it, even for her.
"Wait here." Lydia hurried out of the kitchen and flew up the stairs to Katrina's door, knocking softly. No response. She barged in and found her daughter huddled under her duvet, her hair across the pillow.
Lydia perched on Katrina's bed, gently laying a hand on her shoulder.
"Honey, come on." She remembered her first day at school in Winter River, how hard it had been, and she tried to calm her down. "You don't want to be late on your first day."
"I'm not going." Katrina replied. "I won't know anyone and it'll be hell."
"First days always are, but you'll make friends."
"I didn't like anyone at my old school, what makes you think I'm gonna like anyone here?"
Katrina felt her mom pull her hand away with a sigh.
"You don't know until you try." She urged.
"I want to be home schooled." Katrina struggled to sit up. Her face was red and her hair a tangled mess.
"Give it a year. If you still hate it after a year I will home school you." Lydia was lying through her teeth. She felt a little pang on guilt when she saw Katrina's eyes light up a little with hope. "But for now; School." She planted a kiss on her forehead. "It's good for you."

  The day would have dragged if there had not been so much to do. Cleaning, rearranging furniture, hanging pictures. Lydia had just got into the swing of things when she was disrupted by the ringing of the door bell echoing round the hall.
She put aside the nails she had been using to mount a shelf to the wall, albeit badly, and leant against the window sill. Below her she could see the figure of a small, elderly woman in a smart black dress, with her white hair rolled and pinned into a bun on the back of her head.
"Selling something." Lydia groaned, yet sheer boredom would have her answer the door regardless.

"Can I help?" She asked curtly as she took in the lady on her doorstep.
"Lydia Deetz!" The old woman's hands flew to her mouth and her glasses slipped to the end of her nose. "My how you've grown."
"It's Kirke now, actually. Lydia Kirke."
"Yes! I heard you were married." The woman pushed her way into the hall. "It's been years since I was in this house." She said. "And I was so excited when they told me who bought it. Of course, I've been out of the property game for a while now."
The penny dropped. Suddenly this unfamiliar face became very recognisable.
"Jane Butterfield!" Lydia cried. "I hardly knew it was you."
"I like to think I haven't aged that much." She laughed. Lydia ignored the remark for the poor woman had aged and not at all well.
Instead she asked, "How's your daughter? Must be in her thirties now?"
"Thirty four." Jane said, quite aware that Lydia didn't remember the name of said daughter. "Do you have children?"
"Yes, two girls."
"Girls? Really? I always pictured you having boys." Replied Jane, who's opinion was not asked for nor wanted.
"Yes. Katrina's fifteen and Beth is eight."
"Fifteen is such a tough age," Jane shook her head. "I remember you at fifteen. Very troubled weren't you, and with a terrible hair cut. Mind you, the youth make their own trends... and it was the eighties."
"I'd love to invite you for coffee, but I'm afraid I can't find the kettle in all these boxes." Lydia lied, again. This time feeling no guilt whatsoever, just an intense need to get Jane out of her house. "And anyway, I've ever such a lot to do before the girls get home from school, so..."
Jane was in the habit of outstaying her welcome and not realising when she wasn't wanted. It was another hour before Lydia was peacefully alone again. A peace which was shattered shortly thereafter by her daughters returning home from school.