London Bound (Heart of the City #3)(6)

       
         
       
        

Seriously, Kate?

I flung myself back on my mattress, dragging the cushion from my side and muffling my scream into it.

What am I doing with my life?





Chapter Three


Sunday afternoon I finally had my chance.

It wasn't anything that I had concocted with Vera exactly; she was too much of a goody two-shoes to openly discuss plans of deceit. But her carefully phrased yet seemingly innocent words weren't lost on me as she took great care in putting Nana's coat on, slotting in her walking stick and helping her into her wheelchair, the preferred method of transportation for their daily outings: preferred by Vera, that is; it was one way to strap her in and take control.

'Now, we will probably be gone most of the afternoon, Kate, we're going to go visit Joy's friend Cybil.'

'Oh, okay, that will be nice,' I said, lurking on the staircase as they got organised in the foyer.

'Yes, well, Cybil's not long been out of hospital so she could probably do with some cheering up.' Nana sighed, as if the very thought of it was an imposition.

I cocked my brow. Nana Joy was making a house call to 'cheer up' her friend?

Poor bloody Cybil.

'Yes, we have a few goodies packed for the afternoon, and we should be back by four.' This time when Vera spoke, her eyes locked with mine and her eyes widened as she stood behind Nana, mouthing the word 'four' once more.

I recognised the opportunity she had presented me with, quickly calculating in my head.

Five hours of freedom!

I tried to keep my face neutral, even bored, as I nodded. 'Well, have fun!' I said.

'Don't go touching the gas stove, Katherine.' Nana gave me a pointed look.

'Oh no, with water and crackers in the cupboard, I should be just fine.' I smiled sweetly.

Nana simply looked at me. 'Sarcasm is very unattractive on you, Katherine.'

Normally I would have been annoyed by her parting words, but nothing could wipe the smile from my face as I waved them off. I stood for one full minute until I felt the black cloud of darkness lift from the house then I turned and bounded up the stairs, squealing all the way.

It was a race against the clock, every minute was of the essence. Peeling off my T-shirt and trackies, I pulled apart my drawers and wardrobe, flinging clothes over my shoulder to land on the bed behind, agonising over what to wear on my first trip out. This was my chance to explore my corner of the world, take some photos for my blog and sample the local delights. I could feel the blood pumping through my veins at all that the afternoon would bring.

If there was one thing I was passionate about, it was clothes, fashion, make-up  –  okay, that was three things, but they were my three things. They're what made me feel alive, and feminine, and confident. I wasn't merely boring Kate Brown from Oz or the disappointing granddaughter Katherine Elizabeth. Nope. I could be anyone I wanted to be. 

I arranged the perfect outfit on the bed. A black-and-white textured tweed bow jacket with three-quarter pants and ankle boots. And my hot red, pebbled leather handbag with a cross-body strap, all the better to move quickly with. It was always my preference to wear bold pops of colour. Studying my reflection in the mirror, I was somewhat underwhelmed with my long, straight blonde hair and medium brown eyes. Still, height was on my side; I was the tallest in my family at five-eight, so that was something.

Resisting the urge to slide down the banister, I rushed down the stairs and to the door, ripping it open so fast my hair whooshed back over my shoulders and I stepped out to-

'You've got to be kidding me.'

A sky heavy with clouds and the beginning of rain which could be put down to a simple summer shower, but unlikely. I doubled back into the house for the brolly that I should have thought to pack. But seeing as leaving the house wasn't exactly a common affair for any of us, there was nothing more than a hat, scarf and coat on the rack behind the door.

'Oh, come on, Joy!' I sighed. Sure every British home contained at least three umbrellas? I couldn't recall if Vera had taken anything on her way out. I had been too excited about my imminent escape. The rain was more of a consistent drizzle now and I argued with myself about what to do. Walking in the rain may seem a romantic notion, but in the movies they never seem to be left with frizzy hair and panda eyes. Then what would I end up blogging about tonight? Waterproofing your leather accessories? Riveting.

Every minute I delayed, my amazing mood dimmed, no more so than when I found myself headed back up the stairs. There had to be something here that could shelter me from the elements: a poncho? Mexican sombrero? I searched through the hall cupboards, under the bed, in drawers, until I came to the door at the end of the landing, the room that I had been forbidden to go into. I hadn't asked any questions, I assumed that it was Grandad's study, or maybe a place where Nana mixed her potions and kept her broomsticks. And like a toddler told not to touch a shiny red button, I found myself drawn to the door, stilling before the ornate wooden barrier and biting my lip. I really shouldn't, but then again, everything on this floor was pretty much mine. Nana had been living on the ground level for nearly a decade as the stairs had become too much for her. I took a small degree of comfort from knowing she was unlikely to burst into my room. Surely she'd never know? The longer I held onto the handle, the less guilty I felt. I wasn't snooping; I was just looking for an umbrella, that's all.