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THE day of the Cheltenham Races was finally upon them, meaning that Katherine, nor any of the other women involved in the business, would see their boys until late that evening, when they finally arrived home. Katherine was sat in the big, leather armchair in the living room of the Jordan family home, (The big, leather armchair that once belonged to her father), whilst Tilly was sat on the old sofa, a cup of tea and a saucer in hand. The blonde's blue eyes kept flickering toward her younger sister, as Katherine quietly read an old book with yellowing pages.
"What?" Katherine suddenly asked her sister, feeling Tilly's blue eyes burning holes into the side of her head every few seconds. Katherine's eyes didn't even lift up from the book she was reading, and yet she knew that the look on Tilly's face would have been completely baffling to her.
"You know what, Kat." Tilly said, in a matter-of-fact tone that made Katherine roll her dark eyes dramatically. How was she supposed to know? Katherine hadn't the faintest clue. The two sisters were usually quite good with reading one another's minds, metaphorically, and they were usually quite good and sussing out what the other was thinking, but Katherine wasn't in the mood to suss out what her sister was thinking. With a heavy, and frustrated sigh, Katherine finally lifted her eyes upwards from the book she was reading, slamming it shut. Tilly's eyes briefly flickered to the book.
"No. . . I don't." Katherine bit back, looking at her older sister mockingly. Tilly pressed her lips into a thin line, as she set down the teacup and saucer onto the table in front of her, before she recoiled back into her seat and crossed one leg on over the other.
"I know what it is you're thinking about." Tilly replied, in a childish, sing-song type of voice. Katherine stared at her, her dark eyes refusing to leave the effortlessly elegant frame of Tilly Jordan for a split second. Sometimes it baffled her that Katherine was the baby Jordan sister.
"And. . . what would that be?" Katherine asked. There was no way that Tilly knew what Katherine was thinking because one, she wasn't thinking about anything other than the novel she was reading (and how much easier her life would've been if she was merely a character in a book with yellowing pages that sat on someones bookshelf), and two, as much as Tilly would protest against this, she had never been very good at reading the enigma that was her younger sister. Everything Tilly did guess right as she attempted to decipher her sister's thoughts was just simply sheer luck.
"Tommy. . . with that barmaid you're so hellbent on hating, Grace." Tilly said with a proud smirk plastered across her lips. Now, this wasn't what Katherine was thinking about, but she certainly was now.
