A case of Stockholm.

Chapter Four.

Dinner that night was awkward. We sat in silence the way we usually do. My parents facing each other at the top of the large oak dining table and me, sitting alone as far away as possible. My fingers traced the imperfections in the wood. My mind is in another place, one without boring mealtimes with the parents. My parents are discussing something intensely but I've zoned out.

So, Gwendolyn, how has your day been?" I look up and realise that my father has addressed me.

"It's been fine." I've made a habit of trying to avoid asking questions back to my parents. This allowed less conversation usually. Today was obviously not one of those days.

"Well your mother and I had a great day, thanks for asking. We went out on business and then went for a walk later."

I looked at them astonished. They were lying to me. I could tell from the guilty look my father had on his face as he was talking to me. Also, it had been raining almost all day so if they had gone for a walk then they wouldn't have had time to dry off before dinner. They were unbelievable. I couldn't begin to understand why they were trying to deceive me. All I knew was that they were lying and I had to get to the bottom of this mystery. What can I say? I'm a naturally curious person and I hated people lying.

Hector arrived with dinner in large bowls. He served me first as always and I looked at the food and licked my lips. Mmm Lasagne. Definitely my favourite food of all time. A larger portion awaited me as usual (I'd long forgotten that it was a regular fat joke and just enjoyed it). My mother glared at me as I ate my food hurriedly. I tried my best to eat in the least feminine way possible. I tried to smile at her innocently but I didn't account for the fact that I had just shovelled a large forkful of lasagne into my mouth. I bet that looked attractive. 

My mother shook her head and concentrated on her minuscule portion of lasagne. I always wondered how she could survive on so little food. It seemed alien to me. My mother is a tall thin woman with dark hair, usually pulled into a tight bun and she usually wore these ridiculous pinstripe suits. My mother is the complete opposite of me and if you saw us together in the street, you'd think us two strangers that happen to be walking next to each other. My father? A tall greyish haired man with foggy grey eyes to match and a hooked nose. I guess I missed out on the tall gene but I was quite glad that I'd avoided the Porter nose. 

We ate in silence and when we'd finished Hector took the dishes away and my mother started up the conversation again. 

"So Gwendolyn," my mother chirped "I was wondering what your plans were for the evening. That is, well, you won't be going for your walk because of the weather and our old friends the Hamilton's will be visiting."

I shuddered at the idea of socialising and then I remembered Aiden. The youngest Hamilton. Someone I'd grown up with. My last memory of him was a slightly tall, lanky blonde boy with braces. He was one of the upper classes. Last time when we were both thirteen and I'd suggested going for a walk through the woods, he turned his nose up at the idea and complained about getting his shoes muddy. Yay people!

I turned to look at my other and simply asked. " Can I leave now?" 

"No, Gwendolyn you can stay here and talk to me and your father."

"But I have stuff to do."

"Your mother and I both know that you lounge about all day reading."

I hesitate. "Gwendolyn, please just socialise tonight and try to make an effort." My mother looked at me, pleading with her eyes.

"Fine." I reply rather unwillingly. I get up and leave the room.When I get back to my room I start looking for something to wear that was 'decent'. After what seemed like forever I decided on a pair of black skinny jeans and a plain red T-shit. That's right. No nerdy slogan or symbol. I was really trying; I even straightened my hair.