Halloween was an entirely different experience when you had children to care for. It wasn't something Betsy had ever really celebrated when she was younger. Sure, they would put out pumpkins and watch 'Hocus Pocus' together while wearing cheap witch hats. But it wasn't an event on the calendar that had ever filled Betsy with eager anticipation. Then again, in the Jones household, it had always been about Christmas.
But, there was something incredibly infectious about Halloween with the littlest Davenports and the children she worked with. Pumpkin carving, she could avoid that in a heart beat. Watching the children's excitement over their costumes and their eagerness to transform into their favourite character or creature was something she would never forget.
Dabbing a smudge across a cheek of an adorably smiley vampire, Betsy sat back and gave a nod. "You look very scary, Ellie."
The young girl smiled wide, her false fangs dropping from her mouth in the process. "I'm not Ellie, Miss Betsy."
"Oh yes, I forgot. Lady Dracula, the party awaits."
The young girl snatched her fangs off of the floor and, before Betsy could stop her, popped her fangs back into her mouth. "Thanks, Miss Betsy."
Trying not to cringe at the germs the young girl had put into her mouth, Betsy offered her a wave and watched her disappear into the room beyond.
"This was an excellent idea. I can think of no better way that to open the new centre." A regal voice announced, coming to stand at her side. "We definitely made the right decision when it came to you, my dear."
Climbing to her feet, Betsy swiftly held out her hand to the older woman with a smile. "It's lovely to see you again."
"Same to you, dear." The older woman, who had decided to join in the festivities, had donned a vibrant red wig and devil horns. Yet, despite the tacky head wear, Mrs Bainbridge still managed to look regal in her richly embroidered gown. Betsy wasn't entirely sure whether it was due to the way she held herself, her natural grace, or the clothing. Either way, she stood apart even when she was just trying to fit in.
"Are you ready for your speech?"
Betsy blinked and glanced up at the other woman. "Speech? What speech?"
"I was sure it had all been agreed." The older woman stated with a frown, her eyes drifting off to the gathered crowd of witches, superheroes, and vampires. "I thought she would have asked you by now. Not to worry, you can just improvise."
A lump formed in Betsy's throat and the familiar tightness wrapped around her chest. "Can't you do it? I'm really not prepared."
"Come now, dear. No one wants to listen to an old lady speak."
"I can think of one person that would like to hear you speak." Betsy choked out, swallowing loudly to try and clear the dryness in her mouth.
"Think of this as practice. There are only two members of the press here today. It will be good to practice on the small fries ahead of any larger engagements."
Betsy's fingers clenched into the skirts of her costume. Suddenly dressing as a witch in stripy socks, a puffy netted skirt, and back combed hair felt like a poor decision. A very poor decision. The grand opening of the new centre was a big event. It didn't matter that only two members of the press were here. Every person with a mobile phone these days was essentially a member of the press. They could photograph and record her embarrassment with ease and there would be nothing they could do to stop if from spreading over the Internet.
Swallowing, she drew in a breath. And then another. Her fingers unclenched from her skirts and she smiled shakily up at the older woman. She was glad of the thick coating of green paint on her face which hid her sudden paleness.
"I have to say, it is wonderful to see my old home filled with so much joy. We had so many memories here when I was growing up. Then the wars came and we lost them one by one. My father. My brother. My husband. My son." She sighed and briefly closed her eyes, her hand resting over her heart. "Fate left me to live here alone with just a sad old woman's memories. It never does one well to dwell on the past and on what might have beens. Wandering these empty halls alone, it had started to feel like a mausoleum before." The older woman confided, her eyes lifting briefly to the grand chandelier hanging above their heads. "As old as I am, I still hope I have a fair bit of time before I am committed into one of those."
Clapping her hands, she turned to face the younger woman with a kind smile. "Now, how about we get this party started. The children have been incredibly well behaved but I can imagine there is only so long they can resist the cakes."
"Fair point, Lady Bainbridge."
"How many times do I have to ask you to call me by my first name?"
"A few more." Betsy responded with more mirth than she felt.
"Well, nothing else for it then." The older woman hooked her arms through Betsy's and pulled her through the growing crowd to the front of the entry hall of the stately home where a small stage had been set up. A microphone stand stood in the middle. Waiting.
Betsy wiped her hands on her skirts. Was the room hot? It felt hot. Or perhaps it was just her. She wiped her hands on her skirts. Betsy hoped no one was looking too closely because she was a hundred percent sure the face paint was sliding down her face with how clammy she suddenly felt.
"Don't panic, dear. What's the worst that can happen?"
Betsy shook her head in disbelief. Hadn't she ever been told not to tempt fate?
Before she knew what was happening, the older woman was leading her up on to the stage. The chatter, which had been at a steady hum as the room filled, dropped away. Even the children turned to stare up at them. Their attention held momentarily by the change in the atmosphere.
Unable to avoid it any longer, Betsy stepped closer to the microphone and gently tapped on the end. Wincing at the loud thudding which immediately echoed over the gathered group, she muttered, "Definitely on then."
A few chuckled and Betsy fought not to let her own nervous laugh escape. Instead, her eyes swept over the crowds searching for familiar faces. And then, there they were, at the back. Nick, dressed as Count Dracula himself, complete with plastic fangs and a cape, stood with a miniature dinosaur and a bat woman. Grinning widely, Betsy released a slow breath, their encouragement was exactly what she needed.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." She began, addressing the crowds calmly despite her racing heart thudding against her rib cage. "Thank you all for joining us here today. As some of you may know, the Bainbridge House project started as nothing more than an idea several years ago. Lady Bainbridge, our generous benefactor, knew that she wanted a lasting legacy for her family. And, on behalf of the trust, I am truly honoured that Lady Bainbridge chose this charity to support. I have only been with the charity for a short while but I am proud to be part of a project that gives children the chance to thrive."
"With that being said." Betsy turned to the table at the back of the stage and picked up an obscenely large pair of scissors. "Lady Bainbridge, if you would like to do the honours."
Stronger than she looked, the older woman walked over to a set of heavy oak doors which had been tied closed by a length of pastel blue ribbon. With a bit of careful maneuvering, she slid the blade under ribbon. "I now declare Bainbridge House open."
The blade cut through the ribbon, falling apart before the elderly woman pushed open the doors. They opened onto what had once been the grand ballroom. A polite smattering of applause greeted the announcement. The flash of cameras lit the room in quick succession. It therefore took Betsy a moment to realise there were disco lights in the room beyond. And balloons, lots of balloons. Betsy had a feeling several of those would be coming home with her.
Children were the first to break the embargo, surging forwards to check out the new space. Excited squeals followed when the DJ began playing the kids party greatest hits. Personally, Betsy hoped the DJ forgot about a certain shark song. She had been humming it under her breath for far too much.
Standing at the doors beside Lady Bainbridge, Betsy put on her best public smile she could muster. She shook hands and made small talk as the guests filtered their way into the ballroom. By the time Nick approached, Betsy wasn't sure she even knew her own name. On instinct, she stuck out her hand as he stepped close before shaking her head. "Sorry, I'm on auto pilot."
"Good to see you too." Nick teased, leaning forwards to press a kiss to her cheek. "You did well."
Betsy couldn't stop herself from asking, "Really? Do you mean it?"
"Of course. You really shouldn't underestimate yourself." He stated. "Though, I'm surprised. I didn't realise you were speaking today."
"Me neither." Betsy replied dryly. "I have a feeling that was intentional."
Nick frowned. "If you want me to say something."
Leaning up on her tiptoes, Betsy pressed a chaste kiss on his lips. "As sweet as that is, I think I can fight this battle on my own."
"If you're sure."
"I'm sure."
Before she could say anything further, two sets of small arms wrapped around her tightly as if they were squeezing as hard as their little arms could manage. Glancing down, Betsy felt the shakiness from her moment in the spotlight ebb away at the pair of beaming faces staring up at her. "Oh my word, what do we have here? Bat girl and a dinosaur?"
Tommy pulled away so he could lift his hands into claws. And then, with an adorable wrinkle on his nose, he shouted, "Roar."
Gasping dramatically, Betsy held her hand to her chest. "Oh no, it's a scary dinosaur."
Giggling, Tommy hurried back to her side and threw his arms around her waist once more. "I'm not scary. It's just me, Mummy Betsy."
Her heart lurched in her chest. She would never get used to those few words.
"So it is, how silly of me." Betsy replied, tweaking his nose gently before lifting her hand to stroke through Delilah's hair.
In response, Delilah simply tilted her head up and offered a smile before her eyes went back to watching the other children. Frowning, she exchanged a brief glance with Nick. He could only shrug in response.
Shaking her head, she glanced over the crowd herself and bit her lip when the crowds parted and a familiar face bobbed into view. "Now, speaking of battles."
"What? What is it?"
"I wasn't sure whether to mention it to you but I noticed someone you know in the crowd during my speech - other than the Giannopoulos."
"Who?" Nick asked, his eyes glancing at the crowd of costumed party goers with a frown.
"Your step brother and, I believe, his family." Betsy advised his calmly, aware of the older woman still hovering not too far away. "He asked if you were here. He looked like he wanted to speak with you."
Nick sighed, wiping had his face before cussing as white face paint transferred to his palm. "He's left me a few messages but I'm not sure what he could possibly want. I'm sure we've said all we need to."
"Are you going to speak with him?"
Nick glanced down at his son and daughter. Their focus was fortunately on the disco starting behind them. "I may not have a choice in the matter. He's been trying to contact me."
Betsy stared up at him and, after a brief pause, nodded her head. Leaning down, she placed a kiss on each of the children's cheeks. "Why don't you go and see Uncle Markos? He'll help you get some cake. Okay?"
Tommy needed no other encouragement and was already zipping through the crowds towards the older man. Delilah however paused and glanced between both adults, a crease between her brows as she chewed on her lip. "Is everything okay?"
Betsy smiled and stroked her hand through her hair. Inside, her heart ache. Delilah had seen and been through so much already in her short life. It showed at times like this, when her expression had a severity that did not belong on the face of a child.
"Everything is fine. We just need to have a grown up chat with one of your daddy's friends and then we'll be right over."
"Promise?"
Holding out her little pinky, Betsy waited until the younger girl hooked her finger around it before murmuring, "I promise."
Without another word, Delilah nodded her head and scurried after her brother. And not a moment too soon.
It had been over a year since Nick had last seem his estranged family. The heavy tension between both men was just as strained and awkward as before. They came to a stop opposite one another.
Aware of their audience, Nick plastered on his 'professional' mask between one breath and the next. Betsy wrapped her hand around his and gave it a supportive squeeze as she leaned into his side.
"Lady Bainbridge, may I introduce my step brother, Terry, and his family. Terry, this is Lady Bainbridge, the generous donor behind this facility." Nick said with practiced ease. Yet, despite the facade he was presenting, Betsy felt his hand flex around hers.
If she sensed the tension between them and the newcomers, Lady Bainbridge gave no outward indication. She simply held out her hand and offered a warm, slightly aloof smile. "A pleasure to meet you all. Now, please don't think me rude but I fear I need to find a chair for a moment. I'm not as young as I used to be."
Betsy bit her lip. A part of her wanted the older woman to stay. She would surely be a natural buffer between the step brothers. And yet, this was a private matter and that was something Nick valued. His privacy.
"Of course, Lady Bainbridge. Did you want me to come with you?" Betsy asked hesitantly, her gaze drifting between the older woman, whose face did suddenly look paler and more drawn.
She was waved away by a bejeweled hand. "Nonsense. I can look after myself. Besides, this has been my home for decades, I can certainly find somewhere to sit down."
"Of course."
Before anyone else could stop her,the older woman was waltzing away in a cloud of expensive skirts and French perfume. In her absence, a strained silence fell over the group.
"It's good to see you, Nick." Terry said when when the silence had dragged on for far too many seconds. "And you as well, Elizabeth. Do you remember my wife?"
Nick grunted in response. Why was it, that a man who could command board rooms, chose this moment to flounder. All trace of his eloquence was gone. She could see the struggle he was fighting. His hand snaked around her waist, his hold tight. A bit too tight.
"It's nice to see you both." Betsy greeted, nodding her head at both as she laid her hand over the one at her waist. "I wasn't aware you were coming. I didn't spot your name on the guest list."
"The invitation was in my company name." Terry said by way of explanation. " We've been a donor to the charity for many years. Though,I somehow don't imagine I would have gotten on the guest list if my brother had a say in the matter."
Betsy flexed her fingers around Nick's at the jab. Not that there wasn't some truth to it. Nick's relationship with his step family was broken. His father had unwittingly put a divide between them all and, while it had not been their fault, Nick had blamed them for it. As a result, he did everything he could to avoid them both. And it had worked - for the most part.
"As much as he would like to think so, this isn't Nick's show." Betsy said, glancing up at her other half at the end of the sentence with a teasing smile. When neither man made an effort to continue the conversation, a tense silence filled the air between them.
Betsy exchanged a glance with Terry's wife and easily read her mutual exasperation.
"Why are you here, Terry?" Nick asked abruptly, his fingers flexing around her waist.
"It's nice to see you too brother."
"I'm not your brother."
Betsy didn't miss the flash of sadness which passed through the other man's expression before he hid it behind a mask.
"That may be how you feel, Nick. However, to me, you will always be my brother." Terry replied, his hand blindly reading out to his wife. "Look, I didn't come here to argue with you. I came here to give you this."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cream envelope. He stared at it for a moment before holding it out towards Nick. He just stared at the expensive paper like it contained something explosive. And perhaps it did but not in a way that went boom.
Why was it always letters? Betsy fought back the urge to frown.
"You may not have heard but my mum passed away recently." Terry started, his throat working as he blinked back tears. His wife rested her cheek upon his shoulder. "When we were clearing out her home, we found this letter."
When Nick made no attempt to take the letter, Terry blew out a frustrated breath. "You should take it. It's from your dad. It was part of his will but you left the reading too soon and ignored mum when she tried to contact you."
When the envelope continued to hover between them, Betsy accepted the envelope on Nick's behalf. "Thank you for bringing this with you. And I'm sorry for your loss."
Nick didn't say a word. In fact, he hadn't even moved. When she squeezed his hand on her waist, she could have been gripping stone with how still he was.
"Please read the letter. I think you might benefit from the contents." The other man stated before sighing loudly. "We'll leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening. But, Nick?"
Terry waited for his step brother to life his gaze. "Please don't be a stranger. You may not believe me but I have missed my brother. We all have. I know you clashed with mum but she really did care for you in her own way."
When Nick only continued to stare, Terry nodded his head and sent a bashful smile towards Betsy. "It was good seeing you again."
"And you."
Betsy watched as they both walked away, her fingers tightening around the envelope. Finally, she glanced up at the man beside her. "Are you okay?"
Blinking, once. Twice. Nick finally dragged his attention down to her. Despite the mask he was valiantly trying to keep in place, Betsy could see the storm churning within the depths of his eyes.
"I'm fine," he answered finally but, even to her they sounded false. Yet, she was used to his tells. The way he stood a little taller and his chin tilted up in defiance. Talking was the last thing he wanted. Reaching across with her free hand, she briefly wrapped her fingers around his and gave it a quick squeeze.
"If you're sure." She replied before glancing down at the letter. "Did you want to read it?"
Nick shook his head and stepped away as quick as if he had stepped on hot coals. With that single step, he put distance between them but also the past he tried so hard to forget. "Get rid of it." He ordered coldly, his eyes resting upon the envelope for only a brief moment before looking away.
"But, Nick."
"Get rid of it!" he snapped, his shoulders rising in frustration. He two steps away before turning back at her, the apology in his gaze. "I'm sorry but I won't - no, can't - read that letter. My father is dead and the past needs to remain where it is - forgotten."
While Betsy couldn't have disagreed more, she smiled tightly and nodded her head. "Of course, Nick. I'll get rid of it."
He breathed a sigh of relief. Her fingers tightened around the envelope.
"Go on and get a drink. I'll go and find a bin." She spoke the words but, even as she spoke, Betsy already knew she would do the opposite.
Like the paparazzi were on his tail, Nick strode away as quick as his feet would carry him. Anyone watching would have no clue about the turmoil within him. His face was calm and his lips set into a relaxed smile. If she didn't know better, she would assume he was fine. But she did know better.
Staring down at the letter, Betsy waited until Nick had disappeared into the next room before carefully folding the envelope and slipping it into the pocket of her skirt. While he trusted her to destroy the letter, she didn't want him to regret it later. The loss of her own parents was an ache she still felt. What she wouldn't give for one more letter from them.
Glancing down, she adjusted her skirt and patted the concealed pocket to ensure the cargo was secure. She hated lying to him but, this time, she just hoped he saw that she was doing it for his own good.
With that parting thought, Betsy pulled back her shoulders and plastered a smile on her face. After all, the evening wasn't about her. It was about the children the charity supported and she would do everything in her power to ensure the new venture was a success. They deserved that much. It was the least she could do.