Sweet Satisfaction - Thirty-Four

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Thirty-Four

June, 1915

“Is that a telegram from Father?” Mary asked. Mother nodded, sinking down into one of the chairs.

“He isn’t coming back until the weekend before your wedding,” Mother murmured. I shrugged my shoulders, focusing on eating breakfast, body tensing. I was still so angry with Father for the way he had treated us and I was rather nervous about my wedding, which was looming nearer and nearer. I was going to be married – to John! This seemed so ludicrous I couldn’t believe it was actuallly going to happen.

My eyes bolted upwards as Mary let out a cross between a squeal and a gasp. I queried what the matter was shortly.

“The Zeppelins raided London last night.” 

Then the room was spinning around me and all the oxygen was being sucked out of my stomach, eyes prickling with tears. I had never thought the Germans would attack London; it was somewhere I thought was safe and secure. Father was in London – what if he had been killed? Had others been killed too?

Mary patted my shoulder awkwardly.

“Elsie, everything’s fine, we’re safe.” The screeching of wood scraping against floor filled our ears as I got up, blinking. Blinking hard. The Zeppelins flying through the starry night sky in King’s Lynn filled my eyes. I was shaking by this point, squeezing my eyes so tight my head hurt.

“You don’t understand, Mary, they haunt me. I was the one who saw the Zeppelins first, not you and now I see them everywhere!”

Mary took a step toward me.

“And I pray to God that you hadn’t. You did this to Mother.” I turned my head to Mother, taking in deep, heavy breaths, nostrils flaring.

“Mary’s right,” Mother whispered, shoulders slumping, throwing out her hands, “I worried so much I became sick. If anything had happened to you in the bombings, Elsie…” Two people were killed! Or do Alice and Percy, these so familiar strangers to me, not matter?

“It doesn’t matter what happens to me, does it? All you’ve ever cared about is Elsie. Elsie this, Elsie that, Elsie the Kingston heiress that!” Mary shrieked, fists clenched, face red. Silence. How can one respond to the fact that your little sister has been jealous of you, seemingly their whole life?

“It’s true; you didn’t even celebrate my birthday. My thirteenth birthday treat was seeing Father shoot a man!” I bit my lip, cocking my head to one side, looking at my sister, my little sister properly.

And finally, finally I knew why she preferred Emma to me. Emma treated her as a person, as Mary, made her feel special when I had remarked how annoying she was and gave her my old cast-offs as presents. I had been peeling away her confidence and building a wall of insecurity around myself. When had I become such a horrible person, only to become weaker and weaker at the face of death?

“Mary.” But she had already turned and fled. I had to go after her. I gave Mother a fleeting look as I tore out the dining room, along the narrow corridor and- I skidded to a halt. A piece of paper lay crumpled on the stairs. In an elegant, loopy cursive, were the words in bright red ink:

Of all the ladies in the land, none of them was as grand, as the one named Mary Ann.

I blinked, head reeling. Mary had an admirer? Had she just dropped this note? Had he kissed her, like John had kissed me? John's kiss- what did it mean? Did he love me? Did I love hin? But what about Bobby?

“Emma! I thought you were with…” I gasped, as the paper was suddenly torn from my hands. She leaned in close, after checking no-one was watching.

We won’t tell your parents about Bobby, if you don’t tell them about this little note.”

I recoiled, nodding in fear and horror, her snarling hiss sinking in. I sunk down to the steps, Mary and the Zeppelins whirling around in my head as I blinked hard; it was too much to take in, all in one big rush. Then she walked back up the stairs, hair swishing, skirt rustling, making her presence felt. 

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