Proserpina
When we stopped to refuel and where I have no idea. All I recall is the landing on American soil and groggily getting out of the car in front of the large house I had visited once before-the night Lucien had seduced me so thoroughly.
My heart pounding, I studied the house in the twilight. It was as large as I remembered and as grotesque.
The wide pathway, the well-maintained gardens, the swimming pool in the distance, glistening invitingly in the evening sun, everything bespoke wealth. Spanish arches, wide verandas and wrought iron balconies completed the look of extravagance. And the entire sprawling estate was bounded by on all sides a high wall. The sentries at the door were also conspicuous in their presence. As the car sped past the huge iron gates and the cubicle where the guard sat, I was dimly aware of the feeling that I was entering a fortress.
I shuddered.
The night I had visited, it had seemed an ugly sprawling building. In the gathering dusk, I made a kinder assessment. It was enormous, but not unsightly.
Lucien stepped out, ignoring me and the children and I frowned in growing annoyance. I felt hot and sticky, my clothes were old and more than a little tight, especially around my breasts which had filled out even more. My hair hung in a long, untidy braid across my shoulder and I wanted to see that my children were comfortable above all.
The least he could have done was help me alight, I thought crossly. But when I clambered out of the sedan, an ungainly sight with my daughter Ria clinging to me in wide-eyed wonder and Piers whimpering in fear, I saw why Lucien had got out so quickly.
Hefting Piers over a shoulder and carrying Ria on the other hip, I turned as a woman came tripping down the wide stairs leading into the house. Older than me, a slender, tall creature, she was barely dressed, I thought spitefully as I took in the blazing red bikini draped over her too-slim figure that was covered with a flimsy slip. With a shriek, presumably of excitement, I thought bitchily, she flung her arms around Lucien, bringing his head down and kissing him passionately, insistently.
Lucien kept his eyes open, watching me as I stared, suddenly feeling gauche and awkward in my jeans that were too tight around the hips and my old shirt with the buttons straining across my breasts. A hot wave of jealousy shot through me and I turned my face away too quickly, burying it in my son's soft hair, to hide my stricken expression from his all-seeing gaze.
His coolness at her greeting probably made her stop, and as though she suddenly became aware of us, she turned and eyed us unpleasantly. Like she had spotted a worm in her immaculate garden or something. Then cuddling up to Lucien, stroking his arm in a familiar manner, she demanded in a shrill, displeased voice,
"Who is...uh...she? Why are these kids here?"
I watched with a sharp constriction in my chest as Lucien squeezed her buttocks casually, his eyes never leaving my tormented face as his hands continued stroking her all the while. Then, smacking her lightly on her nearly non-existent behind, he said in a bored, growl,
" Just some kids. I'll see you tomorrow, sweetie."
I felt my face burn with embarrassment. I was a nobody in his eyes, so why had he dragged me halfway across the globe? And the children, HIS own children-were they just some kids?
Sweetie seemed like she wanted to ask a lot more but I decided to put my foot down. If he had frogmarched me halfway across the world, I would be damned if he got away so easily.
"Lucien, darling," I said in what I hoped was a romantic cooing voice, "can we go inside, please? I think our children are tired. Your son is feeling upset."
And I smiled, limpidly, as I met his furious eyes.
I had stressed upon the words your son in case the bimbo had not caught on.
Lucien's eyes flashed warningly, but it was the wafer-thin blonde whose mouth fell open.
" Did ...did she...did she just say YOUR children? " And then, she squeaked in horror, 'Did that woman say, the brat was your son??? '
The damage having been done, I stormed past her into the house, my children in my arms. A few men were unloading our meagre luggage, and I felt vaguely uncomfortable at the sight of our tattered old bags. Some other men stood about, beside Lucien and his sweetie.
I hurried up the steps to the imposing doorway and turned, feeling vindicated as I saw Lucien mollify her but the look he directed at me, made me duck my head and scuttle inside in haste. I knew I had stirred things up for him and Sweetie, whoever she was, but I only felt pleased with myself.
***
The sound of a chuckle made me turn in surprise. A plump woman with skin the colour of creamy cocoa stood there in the narrow hall, her warm brown eyes twinkling behind her glasses as she beamed at us.
"So you're Proserpina, who ran away from him. And these are the children?"
Her welcoming manner put me at ease, and the children must have felt the same. She took us to a large room on the first floor, talking all the way, having scooped up Piers into her arms. Little Ria, independent as ever, marched beside me, her tiny hand in mine.
The ground floor of the house, with its corridors stretching off in all the directions possible, reminded me of the evening when I had come to attend the party, here at Lucien's place.
How much had changed in my life since that fateful evening!
The first floor was a total departure from the rooms downstairs. Obviously unused, I thought as I looked at the three doors leading off the landing.
The room Beatrice led us to, had been prepared in a hurry, she explained, but when we entered, I was pleased to see the sunny, cheerful feel it gave off. Large windows opened onto the lawn below. Pretty white drapes danced in the air gently. There were two small beds in the comfortable-looking room. Large white cupboards took up one side of the wall. Characters from Disney decorated the walls on one side, giving the room a cheerful feeling. Two Latino women in starched uniforms with peaked white caps were waiting, obviously to take charge of my twins. They eyed us shyly but did not say a word.
A question lingered in my mind: So Lucien had been confident that he would get us back to Hollowford?
I sighed bitterly as the truth hit me; he knew me better than I did myself.
"The room's never been used!' confided the smiling woman who introduced herself as Beatrice. "I got it ready real quick when HE told us too."