Rose Manor- Part 7

Emilia clutched at the rolled up family tree and the letter, as she screamed, “What the bloody hell is this?!”

Her mother turned lazily around, but when she saw the letter and the family tree, her body went erect, “Where did you find that?” her voice was hollow and grave.

“What’s going on in there?” her Auntie’s voice came from the living room, echoing through the arch either end of the modern kitchen, one to double French windows- that led to a small lawn- and then towards the hall, and the other to the corridor towards the bedrooms and the living room.

Emilia was stood to her full height, several inches taller than her mother’s as she stood face to face with her, her eyes burning. She had found her in the kitchen, unpacking the dishwasher, stacking china crockery and fake silver cutlery on the white marble counter while she tidied them away into the beech wood cupboards above and below. The stone tiles in the middle of the room were covered with a thick green rug, and that was what she planted her feet on as she waved the family tree and the letter inches away from her mother’s face.

“What. The hell. Is this?” Emilia repeated more quietly but with no less aggression or anger, through clenched teeth.

“Emilia?” her Aunt Maeve appeared at the arch towards the corridor and the living room, behind Emilia. “What’s going on?”

“That is exactly what I would like to know,” Emilia answered steadily, in a more controlled voice, turning around so she faced her mother still but also her Auntie.

“Where did you find-” Maeve started, her voice suddenly gravelly as she repeated her sister.

“In the attic, that doesn’t matter,” Emilia growled. “What the hell does it mean, why didn’t you tell me, when were you going to tell me, were you ever going to tell me?!”

“Now Emilia, please calm down baby,” Michelle comforted, but to no progress as Emilia dismissed her with a wave of the hand. “We were going to tell you-”

“No!” Emilia interrupted sharply. “No, you weren’t! Because I know you and I know that you were only ever going to send it to the back of your mind and try to never think of it, to forget it, as if it never happened! Just like Dad!” she was shouting again now. “But it did! Like hell it did! It’s here in black and white!”

They all stopped abruptly as they heard the front door slam shut, sounding the boys’ arrival home from school.

“Mummy! Auntie!” they warbled, adding after a pause. “Emily!”

Michelle composed her face as well as she could and began to head towards the hall via the archway that led to the French windows, “Hiya, boys! I’ll just go see them in,” she excused herself.

“Mum!” Emilia snapped, stopping her mother in her step. “You are not getting yourself out of this one! Maeve is perfectly capable of sorting them out herself.”

Maeve visibly relaxed in the relief of her dismissal, and jogged off to the hall.

“Emilia,” her mother whined. “Not now, ok? Just drop it.”

“No, I’m not going to ‘just drop it’ mother, ok?” Emilia snarled. “We’re going to talk about this now!”

“Ok! Ok, fine,” her mother relented, reluctantly. “The baby that was left on the street, was your great grandmother, my grandmother.”

She already knew this but just hearing it out loud made it more real and Emilia had to sit down on the silver stool by the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Ok…” she breathed. “Go on then.”

“And so, Victoria Black, is also… your great-great grandmother.”

She’d thought she could handle it, could control her long suppressed emotions but it was just too much. Shaking her head, in a failing attempt to clear her thoughts, she slipped off the stool, strided quickly through the archway past the windows, through the front door and down the driveway. She didn’t stop at her car, instead she continued down the street, past the last several identical bungalows, down the gravelly country lane. Towards the huge house. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t even pause, because if she did, then reality would catch up with her, and she was afraid it would overpower her.