Family Portrait (Kingsley Family Trilogy Book 1)

by Rebecca Paulinyi

  She found it hard to swallow for a moment, and wondered how Zach always knew precisely the right gifts to buy in order to evoke these sorts of emotions from her. She always seemed to be getting emotional around him. Another smile; another murmured thanks.

  “You like it?”

  “Love it. Can you put it on for me?”

  “No problem.” Once clipped in place, Zach allowed her hair to fall from where he’d held it out of the way – although not before planting a gentle kiss on the back of her neck.

  Pulling his neck down so that his head was in line with hers, she gave him a thank-you kiss, and she could have sworn she could feel him smiling through it. After a few moments, they both knew where this kiss was headed. Imogen was the first to break it off.

  “Race you up the stairs,” she told him, her breath a little ragged, and although his was too, he easily beat her. “No fair – you were standing, you had the head start!” They were both laughing as they made their way into Zach’s room.

  ***

  It wasn’t just the evening that had been different this time: they woke up this morning in a bed, rather than on a settee, and under a duvet. The sunlight remained constant, however, and Imogen woke to feel the sun warming her bare back through the window, and her cheek warm from resting on Zach’s chest. His arms were still around her, although she could feel from his breathing that he was awake.

  “Do you always sleep in late, or is it just when you’re here?” he asked, suppressing a smile, and Imogen’s eyes glanced round to see that the clock read ten to eleven.

  “I wouldn’t call myself a morning person,” she answered with a small smile. “You’re lucky to get even this level of conversation and lucidity from me without my mandatory morning coffee.” They both laughed, the soft sound filling the room like the morning sunshine, an aura of contentment and happiness, the like of which neither of them had ever felt before, surrounding them. Imogen twisted her neck to kiss him softly, in a way that was reminiscent of the kiss that had led them to this bed, but that certainly wasn’t reminiscent of the kisses that had followed: this kiss was restrained, gentle and quite short.

  “Time to get up, do you think?” she asked, and they both sighed. It would have been nice just to lie in this bed, and not move, but they both knew they had to.

  “Breakfast then,” Zach said, laughing as Imogen turned up her nose.

  “I don’t eat-”

  Zach interrupted Imogen before she could finish her sentence. “Breakfast, I know. But it’s nearly eleven, so you can’t even call it breakfast. Lunch. Brunch. Whatever, I’m hungry!”

  “Well, since you made dinner, you can wait here – I’ll make you some breakfast.” Zach grinned, and lay back, as Imogen hopped out of bed and chucked on one of his t-shirts, not bothering to put her own clothes back on. Just a few minutes later, Zach could smell bacon cooking, and toast toasting. He grinned to himself.

  ***

  In record time, Imogen was back up the stairs, carrying a tray carefully into the bedroom. She placed it carefully on the end of the bed, before snuggling back into bed, next to Zach. He placed an arm around her, and she leant her head against his bare chest, smiling contentedly.

  “Smells good,” Zach said, dragging the tray up to the top of the bed. Two cups of coffee sat steaming next to a large plate of bacon, eggs, sausages and toast.

  “Quite the little chef, aren’t you!”

  “Mmhmm,” Imogen replied, placing her coffee on the bedside table and closing her eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeats beneath her ear.

  “I’m sorry, I forgot – you need to have been awake for at least an hour before there is any chance of conversation, right?” Zach laughed, ruffling her hair slightly before starting to eat one-handedly, leaving his other arm around his girlfriend, who merely nodded in answer to his question. He scarfed down the food, and began drinking his coffee, as the two sat in a comfortable silence, bathing in the sunbeams that streamed through the window, highlighting the hairs on his chest, glinting off the nail polish Imogen was wearing.

  “Good Valentine’s Day?” Zach asked, as he finished off the coffee in three gulps.

  “The best,” Imogen replied, propping herself up on her elbows and planting a kiss on Zach’s surprised lips. “Did I mention I love you?” she asked, with a cheeky grin.

  “I think you might have done,” he said, with a mock puzzled look on his face which looked adorable – prompting her to kiss him once more, making it last longer this time.

  They kissed for a few minutes, until the atmosphere changed somewhat, intensified, and Zach broke it off with a quiet groan.

  “We’d better not go down that road again today; we’ll never get out of bed! Not that I’d mind that, but I think your mother might have something to say about it.”

  “I’m not sure I care what she thinks…” Imogen said, but with a sigh: he was talking sense, and she knew it. “One more kiss?” she asked, and they both laughed, Zach pulling her face gently towards his and allowing their lips to meet once more.

  A door closing loudly and surprised tones downstairs interrupted them; they paused for a moment, both still propped up, their mouths just a centimetre apart, their breathing slightly laboured.

  “Eve?” Imogen whispered, unsure of how she felt about her friend finding her here like this.

  “Must be.” Zach said, relaxing back into the bed. He clearly didn’t mind her finding them.

  “Zach…I don’t want her finding us like this.”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “She’s my best friend, and… I don’t know, I think that may change when she realises I’m sleeping with her brother.”

  Zach thought differently – Eve was fine with them being together, and would probably have made the assumption about what they got up to when she wasn’t around – but got out of bed anyway.

  “Okay, if that’s what you want.” Imogen hopped out too, finding it hard not to be distracted by the sight of him in just his boxers, and began to hunt for her own clothes. Zach didn’t need to hunt: his jeans were on the bed, and she was wearing his t-shirt. She didn’t get far before they both stopped, frozen once again by the sound of talking, and now footsteps. There was definitely more than one set of footsteps coming up the stairs, and a mixture of voices: at least one male. There were no male staff at the Manor…

  “Evangeline? Zachary?” a female voice called, and Zach immediately scowled, confusion in his face. Instead of doing his jeans up, he left them open, walking over to the door instead.

  “What are they doing here?” he growled under his breath, and now it was Imogen’s turn to be confused.

  “Who?”

  “My parents,” he said, sounding annoyed, angry and puzzled all at the same time. The door flew open, and Mr and Mrs Monroe were greeted with an unexpected sight…

  Stood by the door, their son was half-naked, his jeans unbuttoned and his hair mussed. Stood to the side of his bed was a slim girl with curly dark hair (which looked a little wild after being slept on), whose cheeks were flushing slightly with embarrassment. She wore an over-sized t-shirt, which they recognised as their son’s, and her own underwear; her bra was clasped in her hand.

  A silence descended over the room for a moment, as Mr and Mrs Monroe, accompanied by the cook, stared on.

  “Father, mother, I didn’t expect you home this month,” Zach began coolly, standing in the doorway as if to block their view of Imogen, and save her from embarrassment.

  “I didn’t expect you to have company,” his mother said, equally coolly, and with disapproval colouring her tone.

  “We have lots to catch up on; will you join us downstairs in a moment, Zach?” his father asked, a little less disapproving than his mother but with a strange formality to his words.

  Zach nodded, and – after what seemed like forever for Imogen – they left, one by one. Mrs Monroe shot Imogen another disapproving glare, before turning and following her husband and cook.

/>   “Sorry.” Zach spoke first, glancing toward Imogen. “There’s a reason I don’t complain about my parents never being here.”

  ***

  Hand in hand, they walked downstairs looking more presentable: both were now dressed, Imogen had tugged a hairbrush through her hair and Zach had done his jeans up. This was meeting the parents – and Imogen wasn’t prepared in the slightest, especially after the first impression she’d given.

  “Mother, father, this is Imogen Kingsley, my girlfriend.” Zach seemed extremely formal when speaking to his parents, and Imogen wondered for a moment, whilst she shook their hands, whether she had the better deal. Sure, if Ella found out that she was sleeping with Zach, she would freak out – but at least she wasn’t on edge with her all the time, as Zach seemed to be with his parents. And these were his real parents, not just adoptive ones like hers.

  “These are my parents, Cecilia and Arthur.”

  “Kingsley…don’t I know that surname from somewhere?” Arthur asked. His wife stayed silent.

  “The Kingsleys live just down the road, Mr Monroe,” the cook informed him, and he nodded in realisation.

  “Ah yes, that’s it. You’re one of Eleanor Kingsley’s lot then?”

  “Ella,” Zach corrected him, as Imogen nodded. No need for her to tell them she was adopted: knowing Ella’s reputation, they had probably guessed that she was adopted, and if not they’d soon know. The cook looked like she was dying to find someone to gossip to.

  “Well, it’s nice to-” Arthur was cut off by his wife.

  “Could I have a word please Zach? In private?” Zach looked to Imogen, about to reprimand his mother for the rude way in which she was speaking, but Imogen interrupted.

  “I need to get home anyway. See you tomorrow?”

  Zach nodded swiftly. “I’ll see you out.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Mr and Mrs Monroe.” Imogen’s efforts were greeted with silence, as Zach lead her to the door.

  “I’m sorry, Immy, they’re a nightmare,” he said in hushed tones once they were at the front door.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “But still. We had this perfect weekend, and then they have to come home and ruin it. I don’t even know why they bother coming back.” His voice was venomous, and Imogen squeezed his hand gently.

  “I’ll get off. Text me later, tell me how it goes?” Zach nodded, kissed her briefly, tenderly, and said goodbye.

  “Let’s just forget about them, all right? Pretend it didn’t happen…it was a perfect evening, and a perfect morning.” Zach nodded, and smiled slightly.

  “Okay. I’ll text you later – I’ll try and come round if I can get away from them. Hopefully they’re not staying long.”

  Pretending that their morning hadn’t been ruined, and focusing on the enjoyable time they’d had the night before, Imogen made her way back to the homework and excitable children that were waiting for her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  When Evangeline returned home, having indeed spent the night at Daryl’s, and not with Carrie as she’d told Zach, she wasn’t all that pleased. The car parked in the garage told her something she didn’t really want to be true: her parents were home. It wasn’t that she didn’t love them, or miss them; she did, and often wished that they could be more of a normal family. However, when they were home, there were always so many arguments; usually between Zach and their mother.

  Zach did not agree with the way his parents disappeared, and whilst he didn’t mind taking care of Eve (not that she really needed looking after anymore, but he didn’t seem to accept that) he didn’t think they should abandon their family to go off and work whilst travelling. Also, the gifts and money they would guiltily lavish upon their children annoyed him; if they were going to abandon them, he would have preferred they did it properly, rather than the half-hearted job they currently did.

  The second reason Eve wasn’t too keen on them being home was the issue of Daryl. As she stood outside the front door, putting off the moment when she would have to go inside and pretend to be happy to see them, she wondered what was wrong with her family: why could none of them like her boyfriend? Not that they knew he was her boyfriend.

  When her parents had heard a rumour that she and Daryl were dating, they’d reacted even worse than Zach – which was another reason the pair chose to keep their relationship a secret. Zach had shouted and interrogated, and that had been in the early days – the days when all they had done was flirt. Her parents were even more extreme – whether it was that their little darling was dating, or the fact that she was dating a friend of Zach’s, Eve didn’t know – but she’d practically been under house arrest until they’d believed her lies.

  She would have to be even more careful about how she acted around Daryl if they were back; she guiltily hoped it was only a flying visit, and immediately felt bad for doing so. They were her parents, she should have been happy to see them…and yet it was their choice to go off regularly.

  She’d never asked them to.

  The door creaked ever-so-slightly as she opened it slowly, but no-one heard: they were arguing already. Three raised voices echoed from the living room, and Eve sighed. They couldn’t have been back long, and yet it sounded like a full scale screaming match; what fun.

  “Perhaps if you didn’t go off gallivanting round the country, you could keep a better eye on me, and might not be so disappointed!” Zach was shouting, and Eve was pretty certain it was directed at their mother. Cecilia Monroe liked the word disappointed when referring to Zach.

  “I would expect my son to have more sense than to be sleeping with the first tart that comes along the second our backs are turned,” their mother replied, and Eve’s suspicions were confirmed: it was his mother that her brother was addressing, and Zach and Imogen were sleeping together. Eve felt a bubble of anger rising in her as her mother referred to Imogen as a tart; that was her best friend she was talking about.

  “She’s my girlfriend, don’t you dare call her a tart. And I wouldn’t say it was the second your backs were turned: you turned your backs on us a long time ago,” he said, and Eve heard her father try to peace-make. He liked to deal with things in a different way: sharp words, but without making a scene. Eve made her entrance at that moment, before her mother had time to respond: she was pretty sure whatever she had to say would only make the argument escalate.

  “Mum, Dad!” she said with fake happiness, the three of them turning to face her as her greeting interrupted the argument. “What are you doing back? I thought your current job didn’t finish until the end of March.”

  All three faces softened slightly: it wasn’t just Zach who Eve had wrapped around her little finger. Zach looked relieved, but whether it was because she was home – and his parents couldn’t question her whereabouts, or suggest he wasn’t looking after her properly – or because he knew she’d be on his side, Evangeline Monroe didn’t know.

  “We managed to get everything finished early, and thought we’d stop back here for a couple of weeks,” Arthur said, and Eve breathed a sigh of relief: whilst a couple of weeks wasn’t the shortest amount of time they’d stopped off for, at least it wasn’t any more. “We weren’t, however, prepared for your brother’s choice of…company. Or that he’d have any company at all,” Arthur told his daughter, as though explaining the row that it would have been impossible for her not to have heard.

  “I suppose you knew about this girl he’s gotten himself involved with, Evangeline?” her mother asked, frowning. Whilst her mother was certainly not as critical of Eve as she was of Zach, it seemed Eve’s charms didn’t always work as well on her as they did on her father and brother. Perhaps it was because her mother had used those same charms on men for years, and could see through them. “The daughter of the Kingsleys, for goodness’ sake. They only live in that house because that Eleanor-”

  “Ella,” Zach corrected, oddly siding with the woman he usually disliked so much against his own mother. Perhaps it w
as because he could understand Ella a little more, had a smidgen of respect for her. She didn’t disappear and abandon her children for the sake of money, status and sociability.

  “Well, whatever her name is, she only lives there because her parents have money. I’ve heard people talk about those Kingsleys, Zach; have you seen how many of them live in that house? No wonder I’d never seen your little friend before, with so many more of them. And do you ever see a husband? No. Just her giving birth to a brood of kids, probably funding it with her parents’ money. You could do an awful lot better.”