Tara
The young girl sat curled on her armchair beside the window.
Ben Iusuf and she had shared a lot of information about each other during the time she had closeted herself in her room.
It had felt good, venting out her frustration.
Ben had listened, murmuring in sympathy, agreeing that her Mumma had been too harsh with her.
It was great to have a friend to listen to her, she thought, especially when he made her feel like a person to be valued.
She looked up as she heard the tentative knocking on her door, rubbing her eyes in astonishment as she saw the time.
Had she actually been here for two hours? Ending the conversation with Ben with a few quick words tapped onto the screen, she rose to her feet.
With a guilty start, she remembered that she had her Math test the next day. Then she shrugged her shoulders dismissively.
She was a good student, she would sail through!
Besides Maddie got through, and She never swotted or put in a lot of effort.
*
Now she clambered down and stretched. The knocking was persistent. Without an iota of regret for the words she had used before her Mumma had slapped her, she scampered across and flung open the door. Her worried-looking sibling, her twin, Dominique, stood there. Dom was gentle and caring. He had once stood in the snow, taking care of an injured dog, although Lou had urged him to get inside the house.
Now he stood, his large grey-blue eyes wide and anxious.
“You all right, sis?’ he asked and she shrugged.
“Yes…Mumma was horrid…’ she said, a flash of anger overcoming her as she raised her hand to her cheek, which still hurt.
‘But you must have made her mad, Tara,’ insisted Lou, who had come up behind Dom and stood, peering over his twin’s shoulder, looking at the faintly pink mark on Tara’s face.
She glared at him.
Trust him to side with Mumma, she thought fiercely.
As she made to slam the door again, Lou stepped forward, holding the door open. He was surprisingly strong, taller than her too, she noted in annoyance.
“We came to fetch you for dinner, ‘ he declared, his brows drawing together and making him look like a younger, softer version of their father.
“Mumma is waiting, Tara,’ added Dom and she scowled.
But she followed them, glancing over behind her shoulder to make sure that her phone, the one Maddie had got her, was safely tucked away in her bag.
*
Ria
She had sunk to the ground, a helpless mass of sorrow, sobbing mindlessly.
Proserpina held her, trying to comfort her, stroking her head. She could sense the desolation, the deep sense of loss her daughter was experiencing. But for once, she was totally helpless. Wiping her eyes, she looked up as her son Claude entered. He stepped closer and held his sister’s hand as he growled,
‘Hey, Ria. Pappa is doing everything to get him back. I swear…’ Ria raised her tear-ravaged face and nodded weakly, holding her younger brother’s powerfully muscled arm as she rose from the ground where she had been crouching, her head on her mother’s lap.
*
Slowly, she let him lead her away, sniffling.
‘ Dinner?’ announced Beatrice who had waddled into the room and stood, her old, leathery face looking weary.
And seeing the sorrow on Proserpina’s beautiful face, she took the younger woman in her arms.
They stood for a while, each giving the support, the strength that the other needed. Proserpina thought of a line from a poem by the legendary Tennyson, something along the lines of, something that had drifted into her mind out of the blue:
Heal thyself; what comfort is in me…?
*
Camille met them at the doorway. She looked excited. Proserpina stared as she said, her loud voice resounding with happiness as she announced,
“Paddy. It’s Paddy.’
‘Yeah, what about him?’ snapped Beatrice although Proserpina’s hands on the older woman’s shoulders tightened in anticipation.
‘He is responding!’ cried the tall woman, her eyes filling with tears of happiness.
Proserpina swallowed.
“Yes, but …’ she said in a faint whisper,’ He had begun to do so a few days ago…?’
Camille gripped Proserpina’s arm, towering over the smaller woman.
‘No, this is more positive. I have got the physio here and his team.’
Camille stumbled in her English when she was excited and now she was practically dancing with joy.
‘He…Dr Mason, says that Paddy is going to be ok!”
Beatrice made a noise but Proserpina stood, staring, her breathing quickening.
‘Will he…?’ she asked softly, hoping, praying.
Anthony Beston appeared in the doorway, his face taking on a resigned look as he saw his wife and guessed that she had already transmitted the message.
‘Ma’am,’ he said deferentially, for he still believed in being formal, even after all the years he had spent with the Delano family.
‘ Ma’am, the physiotherapist, and his team would like to meet you.’
Proserpina was hurrying out of the room, her excitement making her almost run as she headed to the large, formal living room where she generally received guests.
*
It was not always used by the family. This was a more polished room, designed on the ideas of stately homes in the New French style, with large windows that ran all around two walls, from floor to ceiling opening out onto the lawn, giving the guests a fantastic view of the grounds sloping away, the green lawns with a small fountain and a few stone chairs placed about in an aesthetically-pleasing way.
The predominant color scheme was white, with a sloping roof and wooden beams adding to the atmosphere of being in a relaxing place.
Now she hurried into the room, Beston close on her heels and the physiotherapist who had been working with Paddy turned with a smile.
Dr. Mason was around her age, a rotund man with a gentle manner. He took her hands in his and said, smiling gently as he saw the concern and hope on Proserpina’s face,
‘ We think he is going to be fine, Mrs Delano. We think so.’
Proserpina sank onto one of the large white couches, her legs suddenly unsteady. She stared at the doctor as he felt her heart swell with gratitude.
The man stood deferentially before her as he went on, ‘ It will take months, but we believe the young man will recover. It is a miracle but….’