Rouge At Dawn

Chapter Six

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Chapter Six

We were both laughing in hysterics, pressing our hands over our increasing stitches as we tried hard to catch our breaths. After taking a good look around the kitchen to admire the sticky cake mixture which was coating the cupboards, once-shiny counter tops, marble flooring, as well as (somehow) the ceiling, we burst into another rage of laughter.

Let’s just say that Connor went a ‘little’ over-board with flipping the cake mixture; he’d wanted to try and see if he could flip the mixture over like with pancakes in a pan. He seriously was the biggest idiot sometimes. I can’t even remember why he put the cake mixture in a frickin’ pan in the first place!

“Now this is why my family need more than one maid,” I commented with a sheepish grin.

“Aw man, Scarlett’s gonna kill us once she sees this,” Connor wined after we’d managed to calm our laughter down a notch.

“Uh-uh! Good luck with that!” I joked, pretending to walk out of the kitchen. I loved how scared he was of my maid; it was ridiculous.

“OY! You’ve got to stay here and help me clean this up, Isla!” he cried, waving his hands around frantically, referring to the mess surrounding us.

I sang an, “Alright,” before skipping off towards one of the corner counters.

Placing my hand deep inside a bag of white flour that was located there, I quickly scooped out a large handful of the powdery contents, flinging it out and aiming it onto Connor’s face just on time to receive at least a dozen eggs being dropped right on my head, straight from the box.

How he’d managed to sneak up on me without me realizing was beyond my understanding. The guy was practically a ninja.

Shrieking like a madman, I reached out for a tomato from the nearby fruit basket just beside me, splattering over his forehead.

Just as he was about to chuck a handful of blackberries he’d snatched from the fridge, a loud voice screeched from the doorway, her strong Cockney accent as clear as day. “WHAT ON EARTH HAVE YOU DONE TO THIS KITCHEN?”

Connor and I jumped, swerving around to discover a short, plump woman in her mid-fifties, her face bright red with anger, standing by the door with her hands on hips, eyes wide with a menacing scowl on her face. I quickly took in her customary unruly dyed black hair, which resembled that of a lion’s mane; something I had always been tempted to shave off when she was sleeping...don’t ask.

But that scowl of hers was enough to send shivers down my back. And not the good ones.

Oh good lord.

Scarlett.

And not to mention my so-called ‘best friend’, Layla, sniggering around the corner, along with my little brother, who had the cheek to mouth the words ‘You’re in trou-ble’ before the both of them skipped off to the living room after dropping the countless shopping bags haphazardly on the kitchen floor.

Yes, you read that right: ‘skipped’.

Don’t even ask.

I noticed Connor quietly edging his way behind me after he placed the raspberries back into the open fridge, but not before I said, “Not so fast there, pal!” pulling him back besides me. He wasn’t getting away with it that easily.

Suddenly, Connor must have decided that he’d like a quick visit to the nearest hospital, as he began singing loudly, “Scarlett! We’ve missed you so much! How did your week off work go? Spend time with the fam?” he tried to make pitiful conversation, to which Scarlett gave him a deathly glare in return.