Isabella's Heiress

by N. P. Griffiths

The warmth that Emma had felt when she entered the bedroom now disappeared and was replaced by a creeping dread. The conversation chilled her and she walked back into the bedroom feeling more alone than ever. What did he mean a trial? And who were the Gentle Men? Emma reached for the blue teddy she had picked up a short while earlier and climbed into the bed, pulling the duvet over them. She held the teddy tight, feeling the hair on its ear tickle her nose. As the tears started to flow, she said:

  “Mum, where are you?”

  Above her, the light switched itself off.

  Chapter Four

  Friday November 21 1997, 6PM

  A few years ago Lisa wouldn’t have worried about what state her eyelashes were in, or for that matter if her shoes went with her trousers, but being the youngest of three sisters meant that she had grown up quickly.

  Now, as she sat at her dressing table, her hands were a mess of powder and mascara as she tried in vain to blend the foundation into her cheeks so both sides matched.

  She knew she was fighting a losing battle.

  It came so easily to Emma and Sam yet for her it was like going to war with Rimmel every time she tried to apply anything beyond moisturiser.

  Tonight was no exception; to the dusky inflection of Toni Braxton, she looked at the array of bottles sitting on the table in front of her not really knowing where to start. She sighed as the smell of hair spray started to stick to the back of her throat. Why couldn’t she have the same dark hair as them? Instead of the ginger mess she was currently looking at.

  As the chorus of Unbreak My Heart reached it crescendo, Emma stormed past her room and slammed the door of her bedroom in protest at something which mum had just said. She couldn’t be sure what had been said but whatever it was, Emma wasn’t happy. This seemed to happen a lot now.

  “Emma, she’s your sister, come on.”

  Lisa pretended not to know what the conversation was about but it was Friday night and she knew exactly what was happening. It was the weekly battle between her sister and her mum about Emma’s curfew but this week had a different twist to it. Lisa had just turned fifteen two days earlier and now her mum was pressuring Emma to take her out for the evening, and Emma was less than happy about it.

  She tried to block it out, concentrating instead on the face staring back at her from the dressing table mirror but the low-level rumble of defiance coming out of Emma’s bedroom put paid to that. Secretly, Lisa would have been quite pleased if Emma had won this latest round with their mum but that would mean staying at home again and it would also mean not seeing Taryn. Taryn was Emma’s best friend and also the most popular girl in school. Lisa had known her ever since they had moved to the area and had watched in a silent reverence as she glided through life with not a care in the world. She wanted to be like Taryn, but then so did every girl in school.

  The radio DJ finished his inane chatter and The Backstreet Boys came on, causing Lisa’s spirits to perk up slightly.

  Over the last couple of years Lisa had noticed a subtle change in the way the boys at school looked at Taryn. She had always been popular but now, there was something else. An added edge to the looks she got and it was something that made Lisa blush when she thought about it, although she didn’t fully understand why.

  Her own experiences with boys were pretty much non-existent and in some ways she was happy with that, preferring the comfort of the known to the pitfalls of the teenage social scene, although she had to admit that this was partly forced on her by the complete lack of interest shown by any guy she knew. A couple of boys had made advances but on both occasions, they’d been talking to her whilst keeping one eye on Taryn and that had hurt more than being ignored. The Backstreet Boys gave way to the Spice Girls eliciting a silent groan from Lisa as Wannabe played for what seemed like the millionth time.

  For the most part, Lisa had found herself inhabiting a world of books and magazines, but they were not the academic books of Emma’s world. These were stories of heroines, vampires and talking bears. Lisa found the warm blanket of escapism to be increasingly inviting these days.

  But she had just turned fifteen and had now made a conscious decision to try and move on from that. There would be time for that later, Lisa told herself. Now she wanted to do the things that everybody else seemed to do and wanted to experience all the things that Emma and Sam, her other sister, took for granted.

  She looked again at the mixture of mascara, foundation, blusher and tissues that sat in front of her and took a deep breath before wiping off her earlier effort and throwing the results in the bin. She took another look at the face in the mirror and started again. In the background Whitney Houston started to sing a ballad about her name not being Susan. Lisa sympathised.

  Emma sat on her bed, slowly simmering after yet another argument with her mum. Her bedroom floor was a jumbled pile of maths and geography textbooks along with a well thumbed copy of The Good University Guide 1997 which, her father constantly reminded her, would only be of any use to her if she got the right grades in her exams. That was unlikely to happen, however, given the god-awful racket coming from Lisa’s bedroom. Didn’t she realise how hard it made it for Emma to study when she had to contend with all the interference floating in from her room?

  Emma had been studying for two years now and was within weeks of taking them, but that was pushed to the back of her mind by the more pressing concerns of tonight. She was due to meet Taryn before heading out for the night but now mum had insisted on Lisa joining them and the thought mortified her. It was bad enough that she’d had to miss her appointment at the salon that afternoon but now she was going to be saddled with her sister. Sam wasn’t so bad, at least she got it, but Lisa was beyond all help. She dressed horrendously, her hair was a mess and as for her efforts at make up, well Emma just shuddered. Why couldn’t she be more like her and Sam? The thought of taking her along with them was something that sent a creeping chill down her spine and, heading towards her bedroom door, she resolved to face her mum down.

  Emma passed Lisa’s bedroom and caught a glimpse of her sitting in front of her dressing table dragging a tissue across her left cheek, a sight which just reinforced her resolve as she headed downstairs.

  Her mum was at the kitchen work surface kneading dough when Emma flounced in to argue her case. “It’s not fair, I shouldn’t have to carry Lisa just because she has no friends of her own.”

  Her mum turned away from the flour and water to look at her oldest daughter. “Emma, come on. It’s not as if I’m asking a lot here. All I’m asking is that you take her out for one night. She’s just had her birthday and it wouldn’t hurt you to help out here. You know she doesn’t get out much.”

  “Oh please, as if that’s my fault.”

  “Emma.” It was delivered in a low extended cadence and came with a disapproving look that told Emma she was close to overstepping the mark.

  “Look, mum, please. I haven’t seen Taryn since she got back and I don’t want to have to baby sit Lisa whilst we’re catching up.”

  Emma walked over to the fridge and pulled out a can of Diet Coke before sitting down at the kitchen table. The day’s paper was spread out in front of her from where her dad had grabbed some breakfast earlier before heading to the office. Emma rued the fact that he wasn’t here, as she knew he would invariably take her side. Instead she would have to battle it out with her mum and she knew this one was already over before it started.

  “Emma, I’m asking you to do me a favour here. Lisa needs to build her confidence and you’re her sister. You shouldn’t need to have to be asked to help out here.”

  “I know but…”

  “No buts. Don’t make me withdraw your privileges.”

  Emma knew it would come down to this. She had not long passed her driving test and, because she hadn’t got a car of her own, she had been allowed to drive her parents when she went out at the weekend just as long as she treated it sensibly and filled it with petrol.

  She tried one last plain
tive look but knew it was a pointless exercise and stormed back out of the kitchen defeated.

  Lisa looked in the mirror, satisfied that this time she at least looked presentable. The light powdering of blusher that turned the dressing table from a deep mahogany to a pale pink was the only evidence of any over zealousness on her part and as she looked in the mirror, she used her index fingers to blend the last few traces of powder into her freckled cheeks.

  The muffled stomp of Emma’s slippers announced her imminent arrival and Lisa felt a twist of nerves as she heard her muttering under her breath, what was she going to do? What was she going to say? Emma turned the corner and Lisa saw she was trying to avoid her gaze. She went to walk past her bedroom but stopped and turned.

  “I’m leaving at seven thirty to pick up Taryn, make sure you’re ready. We’re going to The Crown and Greyhound then the Amber Lounge.”

  Before Lisa had a chance to say thank you and let her know how grateful she was, Emma had turned and stormed into her bedroom announcing her arrival with the sound of a slamming door.

  Lisa’s heart quickened as she looked at the clock on the far wall. It was six o’clock; she had an hour and a half. What was she going to wear? She had settled on a set of jeans and a jumper, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. She rushed over to her wardrobe and riffled through the hangers suddenly wishing she had spent more of her allowance and paper round money on clothes and not books, of which she had enough to last her until she hit twenty. When she managed to pull herself away from the assortment of tops and shoes, the time was six fifteen. Lisa wanted to ask Emma’s advice but knew that wasn’t a good idea. She chose instead to pull out a crème and black cami top and paired it with some black trousers and sandals. She spent the rest of the hour deciding what perfume to put on before worrying whether she’d used too much or not.

  Emma allowed herself a few deep breathes before turning to face her wardrobe. It wasn’t as if Lisa was so bad, but she could be so frustratingly naive. She may be fifteen but she had the awkwardness of someone still finding their feet, which caused her to alienate all those around her at school and that embarrassed Emma, particularly when she saw the smirks and looks that followed her whenever she walked along the corridors. It was a relief when they could go their separate ways at three o’clock.

  It was probably the guilt born out of her feelings at school that brought her round to letting Lisa tag along. If it meant a quieter life with mum, then what harm could it do? Emma put it to the back of her mind, trying not to think about what Taryn was going to say when she saw her sitting in the back of her car, and concentrated instead on what she was going to wear. Her weekend job at Dorothy Perkins came with a number of perks, not least of which was the ten percent discount on all the stock and Emma allowed herself a smile as she pulled out a black sleeveless top covered in sequins and paired it with a set of skinny blue jeans and a slender gold belt.

  A drawer on the right of her dressing table gave up its contents of cigarettes and a small bottle of Malibu, which Emma was careful to hide when her parents were anywhere nearby. The make up went on in minutes as she studied her skin in the baleful light given off by the bulbs that bordered her dressing table mirror, silently cursing the remnants of her acne.

  Emma looked at the clock; the time was seven twenty, almost time to leave. Tonight was a big night. It was Friday, she hadn’t seen Taryn for an age, and Pete would be there. That last thought brought a nervous smile to her face. Pete. The thought of his name caused pins and needles to run the length of her body. C’mon Emma she chided herself; you’re a grown woman, well almost.

  With a final glass of Malibu, Emma brushed herself down, put on a set of wedges and grabbed her purse. As she left her room, she heard the click of Lisa’s radio as it was turned off. She knocked on her bedroom door and waited for a response.

  Lisa opened it and Emma was pleasantly surprised to see that she had made a passable effort and was quite presentable.

  “You ready?”

  Her question was met with an eager nod and Emma grimaced inwardly at Lisa’s wide-eyed innocence.

  Lisa followed her sister down the stairs and out to the car but not before she felt the warmth of her mum’s arms as she was subjected to an involuntary hug.

  “Have a good night tonight, dear.”

  The words were accompanied by a twenty pound note that was thrust into her right hand.

  “Thanks mum.”

  Lisa returned the hug and gave her mum one last smile before heading out to the waiting car and an impatient Emma.

  Chapter Five

  Friends Reunited

  Emma woke with a start. As sleep gave way to reality, all the events of the previous day came flooding back. She sank into the bed, not wanting to face the world and would have stayed there all day had it not been for the knock on the door.

  Emma tried to ignore it but the knock came again. She forced herself up and walked towards the door, willing it to open.

  A man stood at the threshold, the shadow of the torch flame flickering off his smooth head.

  “Miss Elliott?”

  “Yes.”

  “Father Eamon asked me to check if you were awake. He said to say that he would be downstairs if you would care to join him.”

  “Father Eamon?” Emma looked quizzically at the man but he had already turned away and was walking back down the corridor.

  As she stepped back in the room, the door closed behind her.

  Emma opened the wardrobe to find everything that had been in her closet at her flat. She picked out a pair of jeans and a pullover.

  Fully awake now, Emma left her room. When she reached the stairs Emma hesitated, remembering the previous day’s events. She gripped the handrail, her hands white at the knuckles.

  “Just got here, dear?” The voice came from nowhere, making her jump.

  Emma turned to see a woman standing behind her. She was short, with white hair, and wore a floral-patterned dress. Her eyes were a soft grey; wrinkles ran from them to her hairline.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

  “Used to what?”

  “Getting up every morning and facing your trial.”

  Emma froze. “What trial? “

  The woman gasped. “Oh dear, I’ve spoken out of turn.”

  “No please, I need to know”

  “I’ve said too much already.” The woman hurried past her and down the stairs, avoiding Emma’s gaze.

  Emma chased after her, clearing the stairs two at a time. She passed through the door at the bottom and was just about to call to the woman when she saw Eamon, sitting on a bench over on the other side of the room. The woman also saw him and broke into a half-run. Eamon stood as she approached. People around stopped what they were doing and watched as the woman rushed over.

  “Father Eamon, forgive me, I have made a terrible mistake.” Her voice trembled. “I…I told someone about the trials. I said too much. I have broken the rule!” She was shaking and seemed on the verge of collapse.

  Emma saw Eamon take the woman’s hands in his.

  “Edith, I’m sure you haven’t broken any rules. If you had, we would have known by now, wouldn’t we?”

  “I suppose so.” The woman’s breathing slowed a little, her voice becoming more composed.

  “Why don’t you sit down? Father McAvoy will be along soon.”

  Eamon motioned for Emma to come over “How did you sleep, Emma?”

  “Okay” she replied hesitantly. She looked at the man standing in front of her, not sure what to make of him after what she had just seen. “Father Eamon? You’re a priest?”

  “I am.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that yesterday?”

  “Would it have been relevant?”

  Emma looked down at her feet before answering, “Probably not.”

  “To answer your question fully, I was a priest when I was alive and that role has continued into this world. I was selected as your guide becau
se your family were the same denomination as I.”

  Emma had never been particularly religious and what she saw around her didn’t look like anything she could remember from Sunday school. “So, is this heaven?”

  “Heaven? No. As I said yesterday, this is a halfway house. One you have reached because of your untimely death. For you to ascend, you will need to spend some time here.”

  Emma felt a sense of anti-climax as she listened to Father Eamon’s words. All those hours at Sunday school and at worship and she finds herself here?

  Father Eamon motioned to her to sit down and Emma lowered herself onto the nearest bench where he sat next to her.

  “What did she mean trials?”

  He breathed out. “Do you remember what I said yesterday about you not completing your lifespan?”

  Emma’s recollection of the previous day was a blur of images, none of them particularly pleasant. “Vaguely,” she muttered, avoiding his eyes.

  “Well, it’s time you and I talked about what has happened to you and what is to come.”

  Emma waited for him to continue.

  “I understand that yesterday’s events have come as a shock to you, but you must get past this if you are going to cope with what is ahead.” Father Eamon paused, waiting to see if she would respond. When she did not, he continued: “You asked about the trial. Trial is probably the wrong word. It is a task, which is set for you. This task allows you to deal with any unresolved issues you may have had in life.”

  Emma had been content to let Father Eamon carry on, lost in her thoughts about the events of the day before but now a thought crept in to her head. “What happens if I fail?”

  “You need not worry yourself. The trial has not yet been set. This is a new world and it will take time to adjust.”

  “I don’t understand. What am I expected to do?”