For Astrid - RedKite (old books to read .TXT) 📗

James Granger sat with his feet resting on the mahogany wood of the table leg, his face buried deep in the Times Newspaper. He absentmindedly flicked through its pages, crisply ironed by the maid that very same morning. He glanced across the polished, flawless surface of the breakfast table towards his wife. Madeline Granger sat, demurely nibbling away at a slice of well-buttered toast, occasionally placing it down onto the pretty bone china breakfast plate, decorated with pale pink roses, and drawing a cup of tea to her lips, part of the same set of delicate crockery.
As it was usually, Madeline was dressed immaculately in a beautiful cream day dress, tied in neatly at her small, trim waist with a chocolate brown sash. Below the waist, the dress fell down towards the floor in soft ruffles. Her golden hair was neatly pinned back in an elaborate bun, two curls sweeping down the side of her ivory hued cheeks, framing her delicate, feminine face. She raised her head as she noticed her husband’s eyes lingering on her.
“James, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing, my dear,” her husband replied. He smiled, and turned his head in the direction of his daughter. Victoria Granger, newly turned five years old, ate her toast with great gusto, spreading butter all over her face.
“Victoria, stop that!” snapped Madeline. “Show some decorum! You’re spreading butter across your face!”
“Sorry, mother,” murmured the little girl. She turned her head in her Father’s direction, as if pleading him to stand up for her.
“Do what your mother says, Victoria,” said her father sternly. Victoria turned away, and one big fat tear slipped off her rosy cheek, and into her breakfast.
“Victoria! Stop crying! Show some manners in front of your parents!”
Victoria, in a desperate effort to stop her tears, wiped her face with the crisp white cotton of her summer dress.
“Victoria, stop that! You’re wiping your disgusting little germs across your new dress!” her mother sighed. “Honestly, I am at my wits end with you, my girl. Surely at your age you should be able to show some manner of decorum. You never listen to a word I say, you ungrateful little child. I done my best to raise you properly, and in the way of God, but time and time again you disobey me...”
By now tears were streaming down the young child’s face. James cleared his throat.
“Now, Victoria, stop all this nonsense at once!”
Victoria began to calm down. She stared at her father, her wide blue eyes still full of tears.
“Now, go to Betty, the nurse, and have her clean you up,” said James sternly. “I expect you to present yourself to your mother and I in the drawing room to say goodbye to me before I leave for work and Betty takes you to school. Do you understand?”
Victoria nodded, her coppery curls bouncing around her delicate head.
“I said, Victoria, do you understand me?!”
“Yes, Father,” replied Victoria, a little louder.
James gestured towards the door.
“You may leave us.”
Victoria sniffed again, and made her way towards the door, her red hair catching the sunlight streaming through the window. Madeline sighed, and continued eating her miniscule breakfast. They sat in silence, whilst James read through his paper. After a minute or so of silence, he let out a frustrated sigh.
“What is it?” asked Madeline curiously.
“It’s those suffragettes again, dear. They’ve been at it again. This time one of them attacked a policeman outside Richmond Park. It’s a scandal, I tell you! They should know better!”
“It angers me too,” Madeline agreed. “Of course, women have always been there to support our men for all the time since God created the very first man and woman- We weren’t there to rule, we were there to support, and to be supported by our loved ones! Theses disgusting women are insulting the entire female population!”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said James gently, laying a hand on his wife’s arm. “But I’m sure, with the grace of God, this whole scandalous mess will be sorted out by our Lord’s great hand.”
Madeline nodded, and together they moved into the drawing room. James continues to read his paper, whilst Madeline continued her embroidered tapestry. A moment or so later a knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” said James.
In walked Victoria, very slowly; and very demurely. With a loving smile on her face, stood before her parents, and curtseyed. James smiled down at his daughter. When guided in the right direction, his daughter was an angel.
“Stand up, Victoria,” James said. Victoria stood. James leaned forward, signalling to his daughter. Victoria kissed him gently on the cheek. James smiled, and glanced across at his daughter and wife.
“Ah, my beautiful, meek family,” he said. “What wonderful women you are! I love you both, ever so much.”
On the matter of his daughter at least, at this moment in time, James Michael Granger had no idea how wrong he would be.

“Victoria! Stop milling about and come over here this instant!”
The little bird, a tit I think, flew away at the sound of my mother’s piercing voice. I sighed. How was it that no one else at this entire party could simply understand the beauty of the little birds, instead of stuffing their faces, laughing at bland jokes, and trying to look for a partner for their next money-stricken relationship? As my mother was trying to find for me. As usual, whenever I was forced to attend these matchmaking parties, my own personal form of torture, I tried to imagine myself somewhere, anywhere, else. My favourite nonexistent place to visit in my mind was the Dales. Soft, green hills... Quaint dry stone walls... A million miles away from the fumes and smells of London, the only ‘home’ I knew. I would bet anything that plenty of blue tits flew there.
“Victoria!” my angered mother cried, bordering on a scream. Shook form my daydream, I walked over to her, lifting my overly long silk dress away from my feet, so as not to trip. Lord, how I hated this dress! I would rather have worn a suit to this goddamn party. If I had had to imagine a dress I would have least liked to wear, I would have probably designed something along the lines of this. Long and ruffled, it was ridiculously girly, and the silk was incredibly easy to stain. Which, with me, was unavoidable. It was too long as well, trailing along the floor, frequently causing me to trip up. Worst of all, it was rose pink, which as well as being the sickliest colour imaginable, clashed terribly with my hair.
Out of habit, I ran a finger along the top of my head. I sighed. Why was it I who had the hair that refused to obey the commands of my hair pins? It really was rather disheartening. And the colour of my hair, well, the less said on that the better, I think. The sickly pink of my dress looked horrible next to the bright scarlet of my hair. I have to say, the reddish hue of my hair has contributed greatly to the amount of pain I have suffered in the first sixteen years of my life. Having almost every other stranger comment on me as ‘spawn of the devil’ had hardly helped my maturity.
“Get a move on, girl! We haven’t got all day!”
I sighed, and stood next to my mother.
“Who are you going to introduce me to this time, mother?”
I could tell that if we had not been in the company of others mother would have slapped me hard across my face. Her hand was trembling, as it always did when she was trying to control her violent side. Which, by the way, she only ever vented out on me. She sighed, and looked at me sternly.
“Behave, Victoria. Now, you have met this gentleman before. His name is Lawrence Irving.”
I sighed inwardly. I had known Lawrence Irving, when I was five. Our mothers were friends, and we once shared a picnic in the Irving’s garden. The only reason I remembered this early memory was because Lawrence had thrown jam all over me when the adults weren’t looking, and had just laughed at me. My best dress had been ruined, and I had received all the blame. Mother had sent me home in disgrace. I prayed he had matured.
“Look, here they come now,” said mother. I peered along the wide expanse of grass, and, sure enough, Lawrence Irving and his mother were approaching us across the lawn. As he came closer, I noticed his muscular, long limbs; his well defined jaw smoothly jutting out from his beautiful face, his dark hair gently curling at the ends. Two bright eyes twinled out at me.
“Ah, Charlotte,” said my mother, stepping forward towards Lawrence’s mother. They embraced with open arms.
“Madeline,” said Charlotte Irving, smiling. “Oh, it’s been so long!”
Both me and Lawrence stood there awkwardly whilst our mothers embraced. I kept my eyes cast towards the ground, but after around five seconds I could hardly resist looking up at the young man who stood opposite me. Seeing his eyes were firmly focused on me, I blushed. Lawrence smiled back, and, forgetting my many lessons of decorum, I could hardly resist grinning back. The look i his eyes seemed to say, ‘Will they ever finish greeting each other?’, and it took all my effort to stop myself from bursting out in laughter. Lawrence smiled back, a sparkle of laughter in his dark eyes.
“And who is this?” Asked Mrs Irving, finally finished greeting my mother. I only just managed to stop myself from rolling my eyes. She knew perfectly well who I was! Although I prayed against it, the look must have shown on my face, because Lawrence Irving burst out laughing. The four of us lapsed into silence. Remembering my lessons in decorum, i realized I should introduce myself.
“Ma’am,” I said, awkwardly curtseying, “I am Victoria Granger.” Mrs Irving nodded gently at me. Taking a deep breath, I continued. “How have you found the party today?” I said quietly, keeping my hands joined together in front of me, “Has it been to your liking?”
“My, what a charming girl you have, Madeline!” Mrs Irving exclaimed. A look of what could be called pride gradually appeared on my mother’s face. I quickly shook the thought from my head. My mother never had, and never would, be proud of me. She may be impressed, perhaps, but she would never feel pride.
“Why, thank you, Charlotte,” she replied, smiling at her friend. She turned to Lawrence. “And who is this?”
Now it was