Page 8 of The Loathing

“He told me I was meant to be going to America,” I slip out as I throw three tea bags into the cups.

“Yeah, that was never going to happen.”

“I don’t know, maybe it would have been easier to just cart me away,” I shrug my shoulders up as the kettle clicks. Lifting it, I cover the tea bag with the scalding water, filling the three cups closely to the rim as my mum tops them all up with a little bit of milk.

“No,” she shakes her head, “I need you to stay here, where I know you’re safe.”

I sigh, lifting my cup and grabbing my father’s.

“Want me to take it?” she asks as she heads towards the sunroom.

“No, it’s okay,” I give her a tight smile and walk out of the kitchen and towards my father’s office. I don’t knock, just push the door open to see him sitting at his desk.

“I made you tea,” I say softly as I place it on the desk in front of him, he gives me a little nod but a big smile.

“Thank you, love,” he taps away on his computer.

“No worries,” I turn to walk out the room when his phone begins buzzing.

“What?” my father grits out and I smile as I close the door behind me, letting it click into place.

Walking back through to the kitchen, the soft breeze dances across my skin and through my light pink chiffon blouse causing my skin to burst into goosebumps. Stepping outside, I let my head fall back as the sun beats down onto my pale skin. I enjoy this moment for a little while longer before I come back down to reality and see my mum sitting under the pergola. Smiling, I float over to her, the smell of the wild flowers filling my senses.

“Your father okay?” she asks as she takes a sip of her tea and I nod.

“Yeah, he just answered a call as I was leaving the office.”

“I hope he will join us soon, the day is too beautiful to waste locked away in his office,” and I hum in agreement. Once the early spring frost leaves, the weather flourishes.

I look over my shoulder at the small cottage that was once housed by the house keepers, but once Betty moved in, my father moved them into the village across and closer to my grandad’s brother’s castle. We have nothing to do with that side of the family, it’s sometimes hard to remember that I have royal blood pumping through my veins.

“Is Betty okay?” I ask as I turn my attention back to the house, smirking knowing full well that Betty is currently walking towards us.

“Yeah, she’s just Betty,” my mother lifts her teacup to her lips as she takes a small mouthful, “It’s hard to see the person who I’ve grown up with so frail,” she sighs but then jumps when she gets a small tap round the back of her head.

“Ow!” she exclaims, turning to look to see Betty grinning.

“I am not frail,” she shakes her head from side to side, her little hands placing on her hips.

“Well, you’re not a spring chicken, are you?” my mother continues, and Betty’s eyes widen and I let out a low laugh as I slide down in my chair.

Betty tuts and mumbles under her breath as she slips into the seat next to me.

“What a beautiful day,” her voice slips into the breeze and I nod.

“It really is.”

“Shame your father is going to lock you away.”

“He isn’t going to lock her away,” my mother pipes up, her eyes closed as she enjoys the sound of the birds chirping softly in the distance.

“Okay love, if you say so,” Betty chirps, giving me an elbow in the side and I laugh.

“He knows better than that,” I roll my lips, my brows pinching as I squint a little when I see him approaching with his tea and a cup for Betty.

“Does he?” Betty quips just as my dad steps up into the pergola base.

“Does he what?” his eyes bounce between me and Betty, his hand stroking his beard that has a dusting of grey hairs scattered through.

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