A Daughter's Duty

Chapter 1

This telegram was what I received this morning.

I stuck it in my dorm room wall so that if things didn't go well, at least I would have someone who would read it and save me from whatever would happen.

I walked back to the cafeteria where my friends were. They were laughing and chatting like there was nothing wrong in their lives. Their families were rich enough to buy the London Bridge and still have enough money left to go on an around-the-world expedition. It wasn't fair.

Sofie, or Sofia DeVere, was one of them. She was filthy rich, as tall as me - around one meter sixty five - but twice my size, width-wise. She was a kind and caring person, whose sea-green eyes sparkled when she laughed, and was likeable among people, a characteristic that I didn't have.

My other friend was Andrea Gaffney, who, I believed, failed her class at least a dozen times. Her high cheek-bones and upturned nose made her look much older than she claimed to be. She was one of those people who always had the hood of her jacket pulled down to her face, nail-paint on her fingers and toes and her head in a fiction novel (for our history lesson). Her voice was deep and resonating, as if every word she spoke had years of wisdom in it. She, like me, never had too many friends, one of the very few things that made us get along for the past year.

These were my best friends - the two poles of the magnet, with me as the holder that balanced them.

We studied at the Imperial College in London. Just a couple more weeks, and I would pass Lower Sixth Form and go to Upper Sixth, bossing the younger kids around and telling them to do my homework.

No, I'd never do that. I hated it when people are bullied. I had been bullied for a long while when I started here, and I let them bully me. I was insecure.

The reason?

My parents died by the time I started going to college. A freak car crash, according to the onlookers.

PTSD at the age of sixteen.

To be honest, there was hardly a change in my life. They were archaeologists, travelling the world and leaving me with Gran. Now, if my Gran would have died instead of Mom and Dad, I would have been much more devastated.

I knew that feeling that way is wrong, but that's just how I felt.

The worst part? They travelled so much I barely knew their middle names, much less how old they were. One of the few things I knew about them were that Mum's favorite color was yellow and my Dad loved chicken. To my friends, it was shocking how clueless I was about my parents, but wishing Mom 'happy birthday' just didn't strike me after the mounds of homework that I had to do for the girls that bullied me.

My life has been like this for years, and then I got the telegram.

When our lessons got over, Sofie and I decided to get some cappuccino at the café down the street, not the one Delilah Edwards mentioned. We asked for permission from our matron, Mrs. Matthews, and left the building, fortunately avoiding the group of scary boys sitting outside the main gate. I took the sidewalk and chatted normally with Sofie about different things, like our newest assignment on the play, the Merchant of Venice. Sofie was amazing at the subject English, much better than me, so we had decided to work together.

I thought about telling her about the telegram, but I didn't want to deal with her worry and sympathy and curiosity after an entire day of lectures and note-taking. We reached the café and sat down at a table outside, watching customers, kids with their dogs, masons after work, and the elderly.

I must have been looking really worried because Sofie questioned me, "Eve, are you feeling alright?"

"Hmm?" I asked distractedly. "Oh - I'm fine."

"Really?" she eyed me suspiciously. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." I replied uncertainly.

She wasn't convinced, but she smiled at me understandingly and said, "Would you like some time alone?"

This was my chance. "Err, yes, in fact, I would like some time alone." I said. "Thanks, Sofie."

She grinned at me and quaffed up her cappuccino. "I'll see you back at the dorm room. Take care, Eve." She got up and walked away.

I left, and took the subway to Hampstead Village. It was almost teatime when I reached my other favorite café, The Espresso Room. I sat down at the only table available. Almost immediately, a woman, dressed in black jacket, trousers and a scarf around her head, took the seat in front of me and sat forward with her elbows on the table, her electric blue eyes staring into mine.

"Um, good day, ma'am." I managed.

She didn't say a word. I figured I would have to share information to get her to talk.

"You must be D-D-Delilah." I stammered, nervous. I paused for a second, relaxing the muscles in my tongue and continued, "I got a telegram this morning, informing me that I was to meet you here. Something about my parents, wasn't it? Mr. and Mrs. Jason Ro-"

"Don't say it out loud!" she yelled, scaring the wits out of me, and also a few others around. "Please," she said a bit softer. "Don't say their names out loud, unless you want to be killed." She took off her scarf, and I gasped.

"Mum." I whispered.

She looked around in surprise, and then realized I was talking to her. She managed a smile. "Yes, I do look a lot like Darrell, don't I?" she said. And she did. Bright blue eyes, dirty blonde her, a pointy nose and a round chin. I could see how my father had fallen for my mother every time I looked at her face.

And now, this woman looked like my her as well, which made no sense.

"You've never heard about me, have you?" she asked. I shook my head. "I supposed there was a valid reason for that. I'm your aunt, my dear. Darrell is my sister."

She let that sink in, but then frowned a little. "I'm sorry – was my sister." Her eyes turned sad. "You must be wondering why I didn't come to the funeral. I'm sorry, Evangeline. I was on urgent business. The same urgent business which I came to discuss with you." She stood up and held out her hand. "Let's go. I want to take you somewhere."

It was probably not the best idea to follow a random stranger that I had just met. But she reminded me so much of my mother, that I simply could not say no. So Delilah took me to the seedy part of town – full of narrow houses and dirty streets. Toppled trash cans spilled out all sorts of trash and a disgusting odor. Aunt, however, wasn't the least bit bothered. She looked like she was used to places like these. I wondered where she was taking me.

She stopped at a house far into the alley. On the door, she knocked complicated rhythm which I found strangely familiar.

"Mozart's ninth symphony?" I asked. I'd heard this so often at Gran's house. She'd switch on the tape-recorder in the evenings while knitting on her rocking chair. Every time I asked her why she listened to it, she only smiled and said, "Time will tell you, my sweet."

Delilah smiled. "I see Mother has been training you."

"Training me? For what?"

Just then, the door was opened by a tall man, wearing an old-style brown coat with brown trousers and a hat in his hand. He looked young, but his moustache and his hair seemed thicker than men I'd met.

"Ms. E and niece." He said, eyeing us both.

"Yes, Mr. A." Delilah replied. "May we come in?"

The man nodded and stepped out of the way. Aunt led me into the house, and it surprised me that such a neat and tidy house was present in such a dirty alleyway. The floors were made of polished wood and small chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The walls were made of grey stone, which somehow looked elegant and matched perfectly with the décor. Further inside was a long table with eighteen straight-backed wooden chairs. Fifteen were occupied by men and women, including the man who had opened the door, Mr. A. They were all dressed formally, as if they'd come on a meeting.

"Err, what's this about?" I whispered to my aunt.

"It's our secret organization, my dear." She answered, and spoke loudly. "Ministerio Iustitia, please welcome my niece, and the replacement I promised you, the new Ms. R."