"Isabel," Mother said, her voice so low that it may have been mistaken for a growl were the room not so silent.

"What? No one else will tell me and I think I have a right to know."

"This is not something that should be discussed at the supper table."

"Then when is the right time to discuss it? I have been asking for an explanation for a week and so far no one has given me one. I've asked you, Mrs Smith, Uncle Christopher and yet no one has told me something that I feel I deserve to know about."

Mother looked at me, her fingers wrapping around the base of her knife and her fingers shaking a little. She exchanged an undetermined look with Father who shook his head a little, but I didn't know why. Even if they thought me to be rude or speaking out of turn, I had to know what had happened to create such a deep divide between the family. Grandmother's behaviour and general attitude suggested that Mother and Father were both involved in some way. If they were involved, then by extension, I was too.

I glanced between them all with Mother and Father exchanging glances whilst Grandmother looked rather pleased with the way the evening had gone. Aunt Matilda appeared indifferent to it all, almost as if she had expected it when she arrived that evening. With no one giving me an answer, I drummed my fingers on the table and ignored the plate of food that had started to go cold in front of me. It can't have been that difficult of a question and yet no one would answer it.

"Your mother is right, Izzy. This isn't a conversation we should be having during supper," Father said.

"Then perhaps you should have offered me an explanation the first time I asked!" I tore the cloth from my lap and threw it onto the table, ignoring it when it fell onto my plate. "I'm not a child!"

"If that's true, then stop acting like one. We could have had you eat your supper in the kitchen but, as you keep telling us, you are no longer a child and we thought it more appropriate for you to eat with us. It seems, however, that we may have been wrong."

"Fine, but at least I wasn't the one who ruined Grandfather's memorial. That was you. All of you."

I pushed my chair back against the floor, the painful scraping sound breaking the silence and causing Mother to wince at the noise. My eyes caught Grandmother's for a few seconds and I could see the slight trace of a smile on her face; she appeared to be enjoying every second of what had unfolded. No one followed me as I stormed up the stairs, taking them two at a time and flinging open my bedroom door so hard that it collided with the wall.

Slamming the door behind me, I tore the ribbon from my hair and threw it onto the floor, but of course, it made no sound. My heart thumped away in my chest, pounding against my ribcage so hard that it felt like it might rip right through me. I ran my fingers through my hair, my fingers twitching, and I paced back and forth across the floor of them to try and calm myself down, but not even the pacing could stop the thoughts spinning through my head and the anger I had welling up inside of me.

Darkness started to fall over my room as the sunset moved in, a slight slither of moonlight breaking into my room. I continued to pace back and forth across my room and eventually, I flung open my bedroom window to allow some cold air to enter. It swirled around and I immediately took a deep breath, allowing the air to flood my lungs and offer me the slightest bit of clearance.

The shake in my hands started to still, my heartbeat slowing to a reasonable rate. I took a deep breath of the cold air that flooded in through the window and leant back against my bedroom door. Slowly, I slid down the door until I hit the floor. Pulling my knees into my chest, I wrapped my arms around them and then buried my face into the skirt of my dress, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks.

I didn't mean to get so upset, I just wanted answers. I wanted them to be honest with me and to treat me like a grown-up for a change. Perhaps Father had been right in that I needed to act more like an adult for them to treat me like one, but I found it hard to do so when they refused to answer the slightest question. All I wanted was an answer.

"Izzy? Can I come in?" Mother said from behind the door. She followed it up with a little knock, although I don't know why.

"I suppose so." I shuffled sideways so Mother could open the door but I didn't lift my head up from my knees even after I heard it open and close again.

"What is it with you and sitting on the floor? My knee can't take much of this standing up and sitting down business now that I'm getting on a bit it." Mother laughed to herself and then slowly lowered herself down to sit beside me.

"I like the floor. It gives me a better perspective.

"Hm, interesting. You probably get that from me, I used to sleep on the floor." I look at Mother who nods her head. "It's true. Your uncle James would find me in the morning on the floor of my art room, usually buried under a pile of scrap fabric. What are you discovering from this new perspective?"

Mother shuffled around a little beside me and I knew she was just trying to get a little more comfortable. She had injured her knee when she had been young and still caused a fair few troubles in her daily life, even more so when it came to her sitting on the floor with me but she still did it. I lifted my head from my knees and quickly wiped the backs of my hands across my eyes.

The sun had not set completely, plunging my room into darkness except for the slither of moonlight that broke through the clouds and illuminated a small patch of the floor. I pressed my back against the wall and lowered my legs until they were flat out on the floor in front of me. Mother didn't press for an answer or even appear to expect one from me in response to her question. Instead, she just sat beside me and played with a loose thread that must have come from her dress.

"My new perspective is telling me that I spoke out of turn at supper and I never should have mentioned it, or kicked off the way I did," I said.

"Hm, perhaps. Maybe mentioning it during supper was not the smartest move you could have made and your attitude when you left the table certainly did little in terms of favours. However, you may have been right about your father and I treating you like a child and not the young lady you are tuning in to, and that rests entirely on my shoulders."

"It was unfair of me to say it."

"That might be the case, but it is also a valid point and it stands to reason that it is our fault for making you feel that way. We were trying to protect you, but in hindsight, that may not have been our strongest move once your grandmother decided to make her presence known once again. It has been twenty-four years since either myself or your father last saw both of them and I believe we wanted that time to be longer. However, it has not worked out that way and you were right to say that you should know."

"Really?"

Mother nodded. "I suppose it all started when I first met your father. Your grandfather offered me a temporary position working in this very house even though he did not know me and I agreed. At first, I got on well with your grandmother, not so much with your aunt since she was determined to despise me. Towards the end of my trial position, the truth about where my burn came from came to light. The factory where I had earned it had caught fire, resulting in the death of my closest friend, a girl called Isabel McNarama."

"The person I was named after?"

She nodded and took a deep breath. It also seemed like she was preparing herself for the story that was to follow, a story that she most likely never told anyone about. Mother had never told me how her childhood friend had died, just that it had been under tragic circumstances not long after she met Father. I couldn't imagine what that would have felt like for her; losing someone in a fire and not being there to help.

I knew very little, to anything, about Mother's childhood other than her meeting with Father and she never explained the burn scar that wrapped its way around the back of her left hand. Although it had only been mentioned in passing, Mother had revealed the truth about where it had come from. I wanted to ask more questions, find out whatever I could about this factory, but I knew now was not the time to do so. That conversation could wait.

"After that, your grandmother grew less fond of me whilst your aunt went the other way. Your grandmother thought me untrustworthy because I had lied about where the burn had come from and from that moment on it all changed. She gave me an infraction for saving Zachariah's life when he climbed a tree and almost fell to her death and because of two drawings I had done of your father. The final straw for me came when she hit me on the back of the leg with a cane."

I took a sharp intake of breath.

"Not long after that, I left their household and moved in with James. I didn't see your father for about a month and then all of a sudden, there he was. Your Grandmother was pushing him into a marriage with Maisie Blacklock but neither of them were keen on the idea. During one of their visits to James' shop, Matilda accosted me in the office and I ended up with a rather serious concussion.

"From there, your grandfather broke off all contact with the pair of them and they both moved out of the city. They never got divorced because there were no grounds for one in the eyes of the law. We hoped we would never have to see them again."

"Until last week."

"Exactly. That is why they don't like your father and me. Neither of them were all that keen on the two of us being together since they thought me beneath him."

We sat in the darkness with Mother wrapping the thread around her finger and then unwrapping it and me just staring out across the room and trying to process just what I had been told. It all felt too far-fetched to be true, like something out of a storybook and yet it had all happened. Our entire family had suffered because Grandmother and Aunt Matilda didn't believe Mother and Father to be suited to one another or that Mother had been untrustworthy due to a very small lie.

All of the puzzle pieces started to fit together one by one. Mrs Smith's comment about not believing anything she says, Grandmother's dislike of me when we had never met before. It also helped to clear up Uncle Christopher's comments. The grief created by Grandfather's passing and the sudden reappearance of a woman who had caused so much turmoil in such a short space of time.

Even with all the new information, even knowing what I now did, none of it excused them from ruining Grandfather's memorial the way they did. Nothing will ever make up for not only Grandmother but Father as well and the way he acted on a day that should not have been about them. They should have been able to put the animosity aside for one afternoon where we could just be a family and then gone their separate ways once it was all over. If Grandmother and Aunt Matilda ever left.

"When do you think they will leave?" I asked.

"I don't know. With any luck, it will be after the lawyer has gone through the will, although I doubt either of them will be in it."

"And then everything will go back to normal?"

"With any luck." Mother sighed. "Come on, bed. You have school in the morning, you also need to apologise to your father for the way you spoke this evening."

"I know." I scrambled to my feet and bit back a secondary comment.

"A little help?" Mother held out her arms and I grabbed them, pulling her up to a standing position. "Thank you. Straight to bed and straight to sleep, yes?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Goodnight, Izzy." Mother placed a light kiss on my forehead.

"Goodnight."

With a smile, Mother opened the door and stepped through into the hallway. She closed the door behind her and left me alone in my bedroom, staring into the darkness with my mind continuing to whirl. I crossed to the other side of the room and laid on my stomach, inching under my bed until I could reach out and grab a hold of a newspaper. Once I had it, I stood in the centre of the room, where the moonlight streamed in, and scanned through the paper as I did every night before shoving it back where it came from.

I would do as asked and apologise to Father for what I said at supper, but I would do so begrudgingly. He had to apologise for ruining Grandfather's memorial if he wanted me to do the same. 

~~~

A/N - We are back with Chapter Six! I'm two chapters away from the end offline and I cannot wait for you all to read it! I've loved writing this story from beginning to end so I hope you enjoy reading it! 

Questions! Are you glad Rosie told Isabel the truth? Is her anger somewhat justified? What about the ending? I'd love to see your theories about the future of the story and what is to come!

Dedication - Comment below for your chance of receiving a dedication!

First Published - June 15th, 2021