Esme's Gift

Chapter 1-2

When the roaring faded, the vinyl floor under Esme’s feet gave way to chequered tiles. She was still in a kitchen, but not her own. This was the sort of kitchen that would have been fashionable back in the fifties.

A booth for four was tucked into one end of the room. A pastel blue fridge stood in the opposite corner. Between them, cabinets hung above a long bench, where a young girl was washing a plate.

The same kind of plate that Esme had just been washing.

Matching dishes were stacked in the drying rack by the sink. The whole set was new; no cracks or chips marred the china.

The room was hot and airless, the child at the sink red-faced and perspiring. She paused to draw a handkerchief from the pocket of her dirt-coloured smock. After wiping her forehead, she turned toward Esme, as if she could sense the latter’s presence. As the girl’s olive-green eyes stared right through her, Esme reeled in shock. Those eyes.

This little girl could only be a younger version of Mavis.

Mavis swung back to the sink. As she resumed scrubbing, a middle-aged woman entered the kitchen, holding the hand of another little girl: a fair-haired girl in a frilly pink dress. Mavis, elbow-deep in soapsuds, began to complain.

‘Why do I always have to do the washing up? It’s never Penelope’s turn.’

Without a word, Penelope slid into the booth and started smoothing out the frills of her skirt. Meanwhile, the middle-aged woman cast a critical eye over Mavis.

‘Your sister’s all dressed up, ready for the party. It’s her special day.’

‘It’s always her special day,’ grumbled Mavis.

With a pointed glare, the woman left the kitchen.

Immediately, Penelope piped up in a sing-song voice, ‘Last night, when Mummy and Daddy were talking and they thought we were in bed, I heard them say something funny.’

‘What?’ asked Mavis grumpily.

‘Mummy said to Daddy that I got all the best bits of them, and you got all the worst. That I’m the smart one and the pretty one, and no one will ever want to marry you. Daddy … said she was right.’ She went back to fiddling with her skirt. ‘But don’t worry. I’ll always be here to look after you.’

Little Mavis had started to shake. Esme glanced over at Penelope, who was watching her sister from the corner of her eye, clinically observing her distress. As Mavis trembled, the plate in her hand wobbled like a wheel coming off a wagon.

‘Noooo!’ she cried as it slipped from her fingers.

On impulse, Esme ran forward to catch it, but her hand passed right through the solid china as if either she or it were made of air. It hit the floor and smashed in two.

‘The new china!’ Mavis exclaimed. ‘I have to hide it.’ Her eyes darted fearfully to the door and then helplessly toward Penelope.

Penelope swung around to face her sister. She lifted the hem of her dress, making a pouch large enough for the broken plate.

‘I won’t tell,’ she promised. ‘Hide it in here.’

As Mavis thrust the razor-edged shards into the pouch, Penelope winced.

‘Ouch! You cut my finger.’

‘Sorry,’ Mavis cried. ‘Don’t tell!’ she pleaded, at the sound of approaching footsteps. ‘Please don’t tell.’

Their mother walked in and started rummaging around in one of the high cupboards. While Mavis shrank away, Penelope’s tinkly voice rang out from the booth.

‘Mummy, can I get a new dress?’

Her mother, peering into the cupboard, shook her head. ‘Don’t be silly, darling. That one is new. And the colour’s perfect on you.’

Mavis, twisting the dishcloth in her hands, stared nervously at Penelope.

‘But this one’s ruined,’ Penelope wailed.

‘What do you mean it’s ruined?’ Her mother’s eyes darted from the cupboard to the booth, and she gasped. ‘Is that blood? Penny, you poor thing!’

After pulling a plaster from a drawer, she hurried over to her youngest daughter. Penelope whimpered as her mother bandaged the wound.

‘Oh, darling, are you all right?’ She finished ministering to her daughter, then examined the dress. ‘Oh no, it really is ruined! I’ll try to get the stain out, but if I can’t, I suppose I can get you another one. How on earth did this happen?’

Penelope’s eyes drifted toward Mavis. Her mother followed her gaze, her features hardening.

‘Tell me the truth.’

‘Mavis threw one of your new plates on the ground and made me hide the pieces. That’s how I cut my finger,’ Penelope said sweetly. ‘Look.’

Like a magician performing a trick, she revealed the plate hidden in her dress.

With a gasp, Mavis sprinted from the room. Her mother stormed after her. Penelope’s pale, grey, scheming eyes were the last thing Esme saw before she was rushed back to the present.

* * * *

The roar in Esme’s ears subsided, but her headache remained. She was back in her own kitchen, in the present, and she could move again.

What she had just witnessed only worsened her fears for her father. Just because Penelope was manipulative as a child, didn’t mean she’d conned Aaron. But Penelope had been wed before, for short periods, and Esme had often wondered what had broken up her previous marriages. She’d always tried to give her new stepmother the benefit of the doubt.

Still, her suspicions about Penelope’s true agenda were rapidly crystallising into something she couldn’t ignore.

As she lifted the plate she’d been washing out of the sink, a pulse of pain left over from her Gift shot through her head. The ancient china slipped out of her wet fingers. This time, it didn’t just split in two. This time, it smashed to smithereens, obliterating the castle on the lake.