Philomena speared a greying potato with her fork. “Make yourself at home, Yankee, it’s going to be a long afternoon.”
I nudged the boiled cabbage around my plate. I’d heard the brits loved their stodgy food, but this was something else.
“What’s up, Mae?”
I lifted my gaze to find a blonde-haired, slate-eyed girl watching me. The skin around her eyes bunched as she grinned. “Don’t you like cabbage?”
I grimaced and stabbed a soggy strand with the tip of my fork. “I’ve been some places with an abstract view of cooking, but this is something else.”
Not one to go hungry, I placed the limp leaf in my mouth and chewed. And then chewed and then chewed.
The girl with the blonde hair whose name I hadn’t even registered, burst into a peal of laughter. “Oh my god, you should see your face.”
I nodded, my lips clamped, and continued to chew. It was only a tiny piece of cabbage but it seemed to last forever. “So, tell us.” She leant forward, her gaze quick, her hand darting in her hair and brushing at imaginary loose strands. “Why did you come all this way, to here of all places?” She took a bite of her chicken but continued to speak despite its obstruction. “Where are your parents? Is this some form of punishment? Are you a tearaway teenager intent on bringing music to your backwater town?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Isn’t that a movie?”
Philomena snorted. “I’ve already tried that one, Charlie.”
Charlie, mental note taken, poked her tongue at Philomena. I was just grateful she’d finished chewing her food.
“Well.” I swallowed. All eyes were on me. I was an under-the-radar girl. My neck began to prickle with heat and sweat. “I don’t come from a backwater. I’ve lived around Queens, New York, all my life.” It was silly but my heart gave a little squeeze as I said the next words. “And my parents died when I was seven.” I offered a shrug. I’d learned years before that the shrug at the end could stop the three-step awkward shit your parents are dead process. The shrug told them you were resigned to the news and dealing with it.
The table met my announcement and shrug with silence. A pale girl at the end, her hair the colour of ash bark, gave me a sympathetic smile. “Murder? Robbery gone wrong?”
Philomena rolled her eyes.
I cracked a smile. “Just a road accident—sorry to be dull.”
The girl groaned, but Philomena shushed her. “Honestly, your fetish with death is starting to creep me out, Rach.”
Grinning, the girl shrugged. “What can I say? I have diverse interests.”
Unable to tell if this was a serious conversation or not, I studied my plate trying to work out how on earth I was going to survive in this place without starving to death. “Do we get to go to any local shops? I’m going to need to stock up on food.”
Philomena shook her head. “No chance, it's too far. Occasionally we get taken into Braemar village. But it’s just ad hoc, when they fancy taking the minibus out of the garage and ferrying us about.”
I thought of the letter from my aunt, and the fact I stupidly didn’t even know I was coming to a school. “Do you know a Mrs Melerion?” I asked.
All eyes swivelled to mine. “She’s the school proprietor but she’s never here, not ever. Every so often she sends gifts: random artefacts that get put into cabinets along the hallways, all ancient.” Philomena studied me closely. “Why?”
“Because she’s my aunt,” I said before quickly adding, “Great aunt, and now legal guardian.”
If I’d said I’d arrived from the moon there would have been less reaction. “Are you sure?” Charlie swept her hair in front of her face, an impromptu curtain. I glanced behind me to see what she was hiding from—nothing apart from children tackling cabbage.
“Well, she sent me a letter, that’s why I’m here.” I shrugged. “It seems if she’s my legal guardian, what she says goes. It was delivered by an attorney, there was paperwork.” I cringed.
When I said it out loud, it seemed preposterous I’d fly all this way because a man in a suit delivered me a letter from an unknown relative and waved a wad of paperwork at me which said I’d upped my family members by a whole one hundred per cent. But then, what did I have to stay in the states for?
“And she put you in room thirteen?” Philomena tipped her head to the side. “I'm guessing family feud.”
“I don’t know. I’d never heard of her. Because my parents died when I was so young, I guess I never got to ask them things which may have become important at a later date.” I was being facetious, but I was uncomfortable and squirming. Mainly for not exploring more about my aunt before I left the states. And I was the girl with all the questions. What a fail.
Philomena grinned at me. “I think I can feel a budding friendship growing here.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. “Maybe, if you stop asking daft questions.”
She shook head. “That could be a deal breaker. I’m full of stupid questions.”
“Me too.” A bustle by the entrance to the grand hall pulled my attention.
“Ha-ha!” Philomena sounded pleased. “Now, you owe me, but I told you I was going to introduce you to a Prince.”
I glared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Prince!” She hollered. “Over here.”
Tilting her head towards my shoulder she whispered, “Tristan Prince, twelve o'clock.” I followed her gaze and watched the man staring back at us. I say man. He was big: powerfully built—not your average teenage boy. But in the open planes of his face was a youthful glow, wide lips, and deep dark eyes.
A terrible pounding stomped across my chest. I clutched a hand over my mouth, sure I was going to be sick.
