𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞

FIVE: Eff Them All.

CHAPTER 5: EFF THEM ALL.

Duncan's mother retained her voice but the devil had her tongue in a lock. She kept repeating things like "They should be dead!" "Fuck them! Fuck them all!" waving in the air two chicken feathers tied by a silky red cloth on a dry twig as she climbed down the stairs. The train of her dress dramatically following behind her.

This was not normal behavior for the sociable and usually reserved Mrs Everton who normally refrained from swearing. "Mom, is everything alright?" Duncan ran towards her even when he could see his Father doing the same down the stairs after her.

"Neither of you touch me." she warned with a sharp tone, self hugging as if she was protecting herself from feral animals. Head tilted to the left as if it was resting on the shoulder pads of her royal blue evening ball gown.

Duncan's sister emerged from the other room the clack of her pink bottom heels making noise on the tiled floor. "Mom!"

"Nor you," Mrs Everton turned and threw her husband a pleading look, her voice was on the brink of sounding hysterical. "You were supposed to stop it. All those years, all those meetings, all those contracts were for nothing?" she cried, counting on her fingers. A vase containing blue roses shattered, another sitting on top on the floor by the door followed suit. Both shattering on their own.

"Debra!!" his father warned and another vase on the end shook but ultimately stayed put.

Weird things like this happened often in his house, in fact when he was younger encouraged by his granma's stories he had believed he was a witch. The vase suddenly shattered, everyone but him maintained unaffected faces. Duncan watched his father run a hand through his hair, visibly controlling his tongue "We'll discuss this further later. Alone." then he walked away. A swoosh of a wind ruffled the curtains and shook the glasses after his wake.

Again it was as if noone was seeing this, it was as if this odd show of a fight between his parents was a normal thing. Even for his sister. It was as if everyone else around him was in a on a secret only he was plucked not to know.

"Dad, what's going on?" he asked again, frustrated by the lack of knowledge, and the segregation within his own family. His alcohol daze had completely washed away now. "Does this have anything to do with the Sinclairs again?" he asked softly. Recalling the incident from a couple of  years back when word got around that the Sinclairs were moving back into town.

The Sinclairs, a famously old money family that carried the heritage of being one of the founding fathers of Belfast. Belfast being the name of their town, on the edge of the city. Belfast being the town they came in and took from his parents' custody ever so easily. His parents were refined enough not to let it cause noise but he'd seen his mother react like such only once, when the Sinclairs came back. And now, after the mysterious Harold arrived.

His question lingered, unanswered in the air. The room silenced, his sister's gaze was at everything in sight but him. His mother lifted her palm to support her forehead and his father replied, "I remember telling you to take Peyton home five hours ago. Where have you been?"

"I was out."

"Out?" his father echoed, "hmm. One last time, I'll let your disobedience go. But Duncan it's really about time you grow up, you aren't a kid anymore and real life is kicking in. Grow up." then he held the door open for his wife. "You really need to grow up before real life makes you."

Duncan watched his mother hand over with care the thing with the chicken feathers to his sister. The sole Everton son frowned, watching his parents' retreating figures from the window. He turned to his sister "What's wrong with mom?"

"She's upset."

"She's never upset," he whispered to himself then voiced "Why, what's wrong?"

"You know. If you joined this family then you would know Duncan but you're always out with your friends and chasing up Peyton's skirt."

Duncan threw his sister a tilted look, then she corrected herself. Hands up in a surrender sign, reminding him of the stick with the chicken feathers sitting in her left hand "Sor-rry up his trousers." she fixed.

"What's that?" he pointed.

Her smile dropped to be replaced by something he'd often also seen in his parents and sometimes the three of them after they returned their family walks in the woods, he was never invited on. This change in demeanor and aura reeked of secrets and favoritism. Before she refused to indulge him with any details he'd already guessed she wouldn't tell him anything.

"Duncan...I can't...." his sister sounded apologetic at the very least.

"Whatever!" he cut her off, making a grab for his car keys and left the house.

The past five years ever since the Sinclairs had moved to town his family had changed. He couldn't even share his suspicions with his best friend, because no matter how he tried to put it to actual words. His thoughts sounded childish, unfounded and hysterical.

Things went from family dinners to awkward dinners shared with the Sinclairs. Things went from movies and board games enjoyed in the family room to his father staying late at the office pushing legal papers on behalf of the Sinclair's Research work. His mother powdering herself in makeup to spend afternoons at the Sinclair Estate with other women all trying to stay on Evline's good side. Things went from time spent gossiping with his sister to her living exclusively to chase up the Sinclair brothers trousers and brown nosing the sole Sinclair girl for comparative advantage over other girls.

The whole thing made him angry.

At night his parents would whisper, in the weekend afternoons his sister would join them in their whispering and each time the whispers would come to a halt the minute he showed face. They were keeping secrets, and he felt it in his blood it had everything to do with the Sinclairs. Since the minute they came into town, that's when things turned and now he feared Harold had unraveled more.

His car came to a halt in front of the familiar black gate and he pressed into the intercom which was immediately lifted "Yes?"

"Open up bruh" he said and the gate electronically slid wide.

In the front foyer of the house was his best friend who jumped to walk him from the parking lot in front of his house "Trouble at home?"

Duncan groaned "yea."

"The Sinclairs?" his best friend asked in a quiet voice.

Duncan sighed but didn't answer.

"So I take it you heard then?" his best friend assumed and when he got no response he continued to offer his sympathy "Tsk, it's really unfair. I heard my mom on the phone before she left to meet with them. We were both shocked that your sister signed it away."

"Signed what away?"

"The cottage." Lionel said it as if it was obvious.

"Wait she wouldn't do that, it's been in the family for ......wait signed it to who? "

"Your sister, to the Sinclairs. Harold Sinclair is the one the cottage belongs to now."

"What!" Duncan exclaimed in a way that was akin to a piss fit "What?"