The Undoing of Regent House

Chapter 7

Ryan was meant to stay a week at the Porters. He ended up staying two full months.

For the first time in his thirteen years of life, Ryan felt love. It was strange at first, but then he thirsted for it soon after, and, when he received it, he was able to give it back tenfold.

Their small manor was in the countryside so far south it lingered by the seaside. Seagulls often ventured to their windows. The waters scented the breeze.

Mr Porter was a wiry man with a spindly, tall frame with a smile at the ready despite his receding hairline. Circular frames sat on his crooked nose that he made a show of lifting them with his ears. He always had the paper tucked under his arm. He always smelt of tea.

He was an engineer as well as a businessman and worked a lot with steam trains and automobiles. Despite his moving in and out of the house, Ryan had seen more of Mr Porter in those two months than he had ever seen his own father in a year. At least Mr Porter had a job. What did his father have?

"You must be looking forward to going home," said Mrs Porter than morning, "having been away for so long."

Ryan gave her a pained smile. He dreaded going back to that house. He dreaded Grittard Avenue. She poured him some tea and pushed it towards him. Then, she took the chair beside him and put her soft hand over his.

"I know, dear," she said softly. "But, you are welcome here anytime."

He lowered his gaze. "Thank you. For everything."

"Nonsense," she smiled and touched his cheek. "You're my son."

Jem tumbled into the breakfast room in a flurry of excitement.

"Last minute game," he grabbed Ryan by the sleeve and pulled him out of his chair. "Come on!"

"Jem? Jem!" Mrs Porter tried to catch up with him. "Breakfast first-"

Mrs Porter didn't catch them; she never did. Jem was as kind as his parents, albeit spoilt to the tendency of throwing tantrums. But, of all the other boys Ryan had met, he had never felt the affection he did for the spindly boy with mussed, brown hair.

"I think my parents are planning a winter holiday in France," said Jem as he kicked the ball. "We'll definitely drag you with us. I get bored out of my mind there."

Ryan kicked it back. "I don't care if you spend your holiday in the Antarctic as long as I'm out of that house."

"Invite me over one day," smirked Jem. "I want to see if it's as bad as you say."

"That's a death wish, that is. Meeting my mother is hell enough itself."

"I think she's a charming lady," said Jem. He kicked the ball sharp enough to the left. Ryan went chasing after it. "A lady of poise. A lady of grace. A lady- oof."

Ryan shot Jem's stomach. Jem tossed the ball to the side and tackled him to the ground. The gardens were moist by the morning rain, so they walked back to the house muddy and wet. Mrs Porter had a freak out- you've destroyed yourselves already? It's barely ten o'clock!- but Mr Porter congratulated them on a new record broken.

"Safe journey, Ryan," said Mr Porter, shaking his hand. He was on his way out. "We look forward to seeing you again." He then ruffled the boy's hair. "Tu casa we casa, am I right?"

Ryan laughed. Jem threw his arm around his shoulders. Mrs Porter looked flustered.

"Up, up and away, then," and Mr Porter left the house.

*

Every morning, Mrs Porter would have tea by the large windows overlooking the dewy gardens. She'd have a book that she barely read on her lap. She'd wear fluttering dresses in shades of white, cream and pink. She'd bloom.