Into Chaos Hurled (Book 2)

Eighteen - A Lonely Heart

     'Good morning, Papa,' I said as I sat down on his right side. 

     'Good morning, Lottie,' he said, sounding as surprised as Mr Lowell. 'You seem quite chuffed today.'

     'It's Petey's birthday!' I said vehemently. 'Am I so different every other morning? Both of you seemed shocked.'

     'You tend to be a bit peevish, milady.' Mr Lowell's expression was guilty. 'Not a problem necessarily, but...' 

     I didn't get to hear the rest of what he thought. Petey came in just then, rubbing at his eyes and adjusting his necktie. It was always so straight, so I wasn't sure why he was so uptight about it.

     'Good morning, Father, Lottie, Mr Lowell.' He dropped into the chair across from me.

     'A happy birthday to you, son,' said Papa, in the middle of spreading marmalade on his muffin. 'Twenty. I cannot believe it.'

     'I'm glad everyone else remembered.' Petey gave Mr Lowell a drowsy nod as he poured his tea. 'I seem to have completely forgotten.'

     'I cannot blame you.' Papa took a bite of his muffin, chewed thoughtfully, and then swallowed before speaking again. 'Although I must say it does not feel like so long ago that you were a child.'

     'Father.' Petey rolled his eyes in irritation. 'I expected this from Mother, but not you.'

     'So I'm not allowed to get sentimental about my own son?' Papa raised his eyebrows. 'Then what meaning does life have?'

     Petey looked down, into his tea. The center of attention was not somewhere he liked to be.

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Still, by eleven o'clock our guests began to arrive. Lord Radford was first, impeccable as always in a dark grey suit. Papa greeted him much more cordially than normal, and I had a feeling we were all trying to be a bit more friendly today. Lord and Lady Burnham were next, with Grace and Alf in tow. Grace appeared much better now, her skin back to a healthy colour and her step even and without a limp.

     'I hate all this attention,' Petey muttered to me when we got a moment to ourselves, as our parents greeted the Burnhams. 'The production is really rather ridiculous.'

     'Petey,' I huffed. 'You really must stop this.'

     'Lottie...' he began, but just then we were interrupted by Grace. She smiled at the both of us, and it was heartening to see. Not a trace of the girl we'd found tied up in Heacham's lair was visible.

     'I do hope my parents give my twentieth this much ceremony,' Grace said, although I heard a hint of amusement in her voice. 'Although what there is to celebrate, I haven't any idea.'

     'Twenty years on this earth,' I said. 'Which is more than some can claim.'

     Grace pursed her lips, but said nothing. There'd been rumblings on the mainland, of the relationships between the countries becoming even more tenuous. There were stories of Germany increasing its army, the Ottoman Empire fracturing under the strain of the Balkan Wars, and a general increase in squabbles between governments. People were fighting and dying every day. Although Petey didn't fully realise it, twenty was an age to claim that you'd survived childhood. 

     We drifted apart then, Grace murmuring something about getting something to eat while I wandered over to Alf, standing by the window. He was almost taller than me now, seeming to have grown from a small scrap of a boy into a man overnight. But I knew he couldn't have been more than sixteen.