“How was it?” I manage to reply, trying to hide my disappointment and sadness. I can’t collapse into a puddle of tears; there’d be so many questions…
“Fantastic!” she replies as she swirls around like a five year–old, spinning with her arms out wide.
“You wouldn’t believe the places we’ve been to and seen – it was a dream come true. I wish you could’ve been there.” Abruptly she changes the subject. “Is Lex here? Did you two have a good summer?” She asks, not really wanting a reply.
I nod. What else can I do or say? Not exactly the right time to let her know I’d fallen for my step–brother, who tragically now wants nothing to do with me. For that conversation, I think, there is never going to be a right or perfect time.
“Sweetie!” she screeches, interrupting my train of thought, “let me have a look at you. You’ve lost weight, haven’t you?” My mom takes my hand and twirls me around. I’m wearing a loose pyjama top and baggy bottoms that I’d found in the suitcase. The ensemble had fitted me perfectly at the start of the summer.
I shrug. I hadn’t noticed.
“You have, you look amazing! What have you been doing this summer? You’ll have to tell me your secret; bottle it up and let me have it.” She glances at her diamond–encrusted watch, “Oh, damn, we only came to drop off our cases and quickly change. We have a big charity event tonight, you see. Can’t be late,” she says, grinning with delight. Clearly my mom was made for this type of life; it suits her to a T.
She leans in close and pecks me on my cheek. “It’s good to be home,” she says and walks away without giving me another thought.
Chapter Four
Nothing feels real anymore; everything is a dull comparison to what it was like when I was with him. Food no longer appeals, and clothes are just shrouds to cover myself… I want to feel alive again but fear that it’ll never happen.
In the blink of an eye, or so it feels, I’ve been transported from one luxury apartment to another. Michael Chamberlin, my step–father, has generously set me up in a small yet tasteful flat within spitting distance of Oxford University, which I’m due to attend. But the last thing I want to do is go to school; new people, new responsibilities all mean nothing without him. It doesn’t help that Oxford is also Lex’s alma mater; each new corridor I walk down, I wonder if he’s been in that very spot.
Regardless, I force myself to go and walk zombie–like from class to class. I keep my head down and refrain from interacting with anyone. At least I manage to remember to eat, so that’s progress, right?
“You don’t talk much, do you?” A loud female voice near me in the cafeteria announces. I ignore the woman, hoping she isn’t talking to me.
“I’ve seen you about, quiet as a church mouse paying penance you are.” She shuffles closer, and I can smell her flowery perfume. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” she asks.
“I doubt it… I’m a first year,” I croak.
“It speaks!” She shouts with delight, causing everyone in the room to turn around and look at us. I blush and glance over to see the curly brown–haired girl raising her hands up in the air as if thanking a deity from above for my voice, and I can’t help but smile.
“I do know you,” she waggles her finger at me and continues, “I’m sure of it. You’re part of the Chamberlin family, now aren’t you? Emily? No Amelia. Nah, that’s not it. You’ve been in all those fancy magazines… Shit, don’t tell me. I’ll get it in a second,” she chatters excitedly while she knocks her palm against her head.
“Aimee!” she says, and I nod. She sticks out a long, manicured hand, and I take it. “I’m Phoebe Kildare, nice to meet you. I’m in second year.”
Phoebe is like a breath of fresh air that shakes me awake. Her energy courses through my life, making it bearable to breathe again. And although her constant chatter often stings my ears like a brittle wind, I wouldn’t have made it through my first week of Uni without her; at least now I’m not thinking of Lex every minute of the day… maybe every five minutes, instead.
“So, spill. Dish the dirt; I want to know everything. What’s it like being a part of one of the richest and most powerful families in England? Is it true what the magazines say about Alexandre?”
My ears prick up at the sound of his name. “What do you mean?” I ask, thinking the worst. No one knows, surely he wouldn’t have told anyone?
“Well, that he’s a bit of a womaniser, a playboy?” She reaches for her bag, pulls out a trashy tabloid magazine and smoothes the pages over. I frown at her. “Don’t judge me, these things are fantastically entertaining; you know, a bit of light reading after studying the controversies of Voltaire.”