Family Portrait (Kingsley Family Trilogy Book 1)

by Rebecca Paulinyi

  Her closing statement was curt, and the room was shocked into silence for a moment by her rant. Money. So that was really what it boiled down to? Zach was momentarily disgusted with his parents, before he realised he didn’t care what they thought.

  “I’m going out,” he said. Ignoring their protests, he slammed the door as he left the living room, and then as he headed outside, away from the parents he found himself wishing would leave and never come back.

  He hadn’t bothered to tell them Imogen was adopted, that she wasn’t actually a Kingsley, because it shouldn’t have mattered. It wasn’t like being a Kingsley was such a bad thing: at that moment it looked damn sight more attractive than being a Monroe. And her surname shouldn’t matter to them – if they weren’t such pretentious snobs, maybe they’d care about his feelings for Imogen, and not just how it might affect their status.

  He was seventeen: old enough to make his own choices; old enough to sleep with Imogen; old enough to know that his best interests were not at his parents’ hearts.

  ***

  At Kingsley Mansion, where Zach was slowly headed (choosing to try to rid himself of some of his anger first by circling the block a few times) Imogen was dealing with her own family crisis: the second she stepped over the threshold, she was greeted with news she didn’t want to hear. It seemed to be a common theme of the day, and this news erased all her worries about Zach’s parents. This news was about Jack.

  “Look, we’ll sort this, okay?” Ella was attempting to reassure Imogen, having just told her Jack would be arriving that afternoon. But Imogen was beyond reassurance: this was finally it. She was going to have to face up to what she’d done, justify it to her brother, and then avoid his wrath. She felt like that eleven-year-old girl sat on the stairs again, with events moving out of her control.

  Her past and her present were about to collide.

  “And I’m sure, if we’re firm, he won’t bother to try again. You’ve told him you’re not interested in having any sort of contact with him, he’ll have to accept that sooner or later.” Ella was still babbling on, but Imogen found it easy to ignore her – her mind was focused on what she could say to Jack; how she could deal with the anger and accusations that would be thrown at her; whether or not she could cope with seeing the boy, the man, who had abandoned her and condoned their father’s behaviour.

  ***

  A knock on the door was enough to make Imogen jump out of her skin, and she internally cursed Jack for weakening her so. She was not that little girl. She was not weak. She’d lived through more than most people, even though she was not yet sixteen, and she would stand up to him. All that was easy to think; it was not so easy to carry out.

  Ella answered the door, her expression calm, but her body language steeled for the worst. She didn’t know what to expect from this Jack, but Imogen’s reaction frightened her a little: what was so monstrous about him that it got Imogen scared?

  Even Imogen could not answer that question, although she asked herself it daily. She couldn’t quite sum up what terrified her about him, about the situation, more so now than ever before. Perhaps that was because she had so much more to lose now: before there’d just been Abby, little Abby whose opinion wouldn’t be changed by any accusations which were hurled around. Now she had so much more.

  For perhaps the first time ever, Ella relaxed as she recognised the figure in the doorway as Zach. Normally a source of mild annoyance to her, she was pleased it was not Jack. Perhaps he wouldn’t come.

  Imogen’s reaction was more than just relaxation: she pulled him through the door and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, hoping he could ease her panic, yet hating herself for showing this weakness to him.

  Her breaths were fast and shallow, and she felt a pain in her chest every time she sucked in more oxygen: this was pure panic. Not for her physical wellbeing – she knew that Jack could not hurt her with her family around, that they wouldn’t allow it – but panic for what she might lose, how he might make her look, how weak he could make her. Without even being there, he had shown how much he could weaken Imogen Kingsley.

  “Hey, hey, what’s up?” Zach asked, looking first to Imogen and then – when it was clear she couldn’t answer – to Ella. His own anger and problems faded away momentarily, as he wondered what had changed Imogen into this quivering wreck wrapped round him. He tried to comfort her, holding her tight, but she seemed beyond comforting.

  “Do you know about her brother?” Ella asked, worry saturating her voice as she glanced at her daughter, who had never looked so vulnerable before.

  “What about him?” Zach asked, as Imogen continued to shake with fear, a fear he didn’t understand. Without waiting for an invitation, he made his way to the living room, dragging Imogen with him and sitting her beside him on a sofa. Ella followed them, closing the door behind her. There would be no need for anyone else to see Imogen like this – she knew Imogen’s pride would be severely dented once she had got past her fear.

  “I know he’s rung; that he wants to see her, and that she doesn’t want to see him because he left her.” His voice was riled as he said the words, because in saying them he made a link he hadn’t made before: a link between the facts that Imogen’s brother had abandoned her, and that her father had killed her mother. He hadn’t linked the two before, but now that he had, realisation dawned; Jack had left Imogen with a man who beat up his wife.

  Zach hated him.

  “And her parents?” Ella asked. How much had her daughter confided in this boy? From the way the two were linked now, the way she clung to him, they were more serious than Ella had imagined; serious enough that there was a chance she’d told him what she’d told Ella. More, maybe.

  “I know how they died,” he said. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on here?” He gestured to Imogen, and his tone was not rude: in fact, there was a hint of desperation to it. He hated feeling useless; he needed to understand what was wrong, so that he could fix it.

  “He’s coming,” she told him, and although he understood immediately, she continued to explain. “Jack’s found out where she lives, and he left a message saying he’ll be here this evening. I can’t pretend I completely understand why she’s so panicked…” She looked at Imogen, and spoke almost as though she wasn’t in the room: she wasn’t in control of herself enough to contribute to the conversation.

  “I’m not sure she even knows exactly why,” Zach said, and through the panic and the pain and the tears, some part of Imogen marvelled at how much he understood her, without her even needing to voice it. She’d never voiced that particular fact – and yet he knew.

  “Can you get her a drink? She needs to calm down before he gets here.” Zach was ready for action now. He knew what was happening, and now he was going to do his best to sort it out: that was the way he reacted to stressful situations. Ella fulfilled his request without question, the two working together to try and address the problem.

  “Imogen?” Zach’s voice was firm: he needed to lift her from this state of hysteria. “Imogen, you need to calm down. Jack’s going to arrive,” his comment brought on another wave on shallow breaths, “he’ll say whatever he wants to say, and then we’ll get rid of him. What can he possibly do with Ella and me around, hey?” His question was rhetorical, but her mind couldn’t help but answer it.

  He could dredge up memories of the past, he could destroy her relationship with Zach by twisting what she had done, and he could open up wounds that Imogen felt were only just starting to heal. And that was just for starters…

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  When the next knock came at the door, just a mere half an hour later, Imogen was much more composed. Embarrassed, horrified at the way she’d broken down in front of Ella, let alone Zach, but composed: she was as ready as she was ever going to be to face her past. But first she’d had to ask her present to leave. Just for a while.

  “No way.” She’d expected this response; Zach grasped her hand tightly, and both
he and Ella looked at her as though she were insane.

  “Imogen, you’re clearly scared of him, you can’t expect us just to leave you alone with him,” Ella said, in the soothing tone mothers use with their young, distressed children, her forehead creased with worry and confusion.

  “Expect what you want, I’m not going anywhere.” Zach was more assured in his answer, and Imogen shook her head, speaking to him in a low voice.

  “I’m more afraid of him ruining my current life than I am of him,” she said. “Please, Zach. If my current life’s not here, he can’t ruin it.” Zach shook his head a little, despairing at her flawed logic.

  “He can’t ruin it anyway. Whatever he says, whatever he does; Ella and I aren’t going anywhere.” It was amazing how suddenly the family she’d acted like she didn’t want were so important to her – and how Zach obviously realised this, in the way he included Ella’s name with his.

  And then the knock came. And despite her previous bravado, and the part of her that wished she could face Jack alone, so that he couldn’t destroy this life like he’d helped to destroy her old life, she was comforted by the fact that Zach was there. She gripped his hand, and Ella went to answer the door.

  “Imogen.” It wasn’t a question, because there was no-one else in the room who could have conceivably been Imogen, but an acknowledgment that he’d found her. She looked different – she’d grown up – and Jack wondered if he would have recognised her in a crowd. Maybe; maybe not. He recognised little glimpses of his mother in the girl sat on the sofa before him: her hair, for instance, resembled their mother’s in length, colour and style. The loose curls she brushed out the way as she looked up to meet his stare were a copy of those that had lain on their mother’s head.

  The room was silent for a moment as Jack took in these observations, but he soon turned to Zach and Ella. His voice was deep, a little hoarse, with a touch of menace to it that seemed like it was inherent.

  “Can I speak to Imogen alone?” Although he phrased it like a question, there was no doubt in his mind that they would say yes; he expected them to leave the room without question. He eyed the burly seventeen-year-old holding his sister’s hand, and wondered who he was.

  “No.” Zach’s reply was brief and rude, and it surprised Jack.

  “Anything you need to say to her, you can say in front of us.” Ella backed Zach up; Imogen felt as though she might get emotional over their unity in protecting her. Jeez, what was with the emotions all of a sudden? She had to switch them off if she was going to focus: Jack didn’t put up with emotional women, she knew that, and she wasn’t going to let him think she was weak.

  She was stronger than Jack Meyer. She hadn’t run at the sight of trouble.

  “I haven’t seen my sister in four years,” Jack said, but Ella wasn’t going to let him use that as a reason to get rid of them.

  “That was your own choice,” she replied, and a look of anger and surprise filled Jack’s face.

  “Can I ask who here is actually related to Imogen?” he asked, changing his tack; any politeness in his tone was gone, replaced with sarcasm. Not getting his own way angered him; he knew he could break Imogen’s attitude if he had a chance to actually speak to her, but she hadn’t even spoken a word yet. Her minions were protecting her.

  “Oh yes, me. So if anyone has a claim over her, it’s me. Give us some privacy. Imogen, you owe me some explanations.” His anger was rising, anyone could hear that in his voice, and there was more than just a little menace ringing in his final sentence. Did he have suspicions about what had happened that night, when they had all become orphans? Imogen didn’t know, but it sounded like it.

  “Claim?” Zach got to his feet, disentangling his fingers from Imogen’s, even though she tried to hold onto them. Anger was filling him, too.

  “She’s not an object, Jack.” He said the name as though it were an expletive: despite Jack’s five years seniority, they were the same height, and Zach’s eyes were glaring straight into his. The tension in the room was almost tangible; Imogen stood too, and spoke for herself for the first time since Jack had entered the room. Her voice didn’t shake as she’d feared it might: he was not going to muscle his way into her life.

  She was no longer a Meyer: for the first time, she thought that being a Kingsley was a good thing. He had no hold on her.

  “The only person in this room with any legal claim to me is the one whose surname I share,” she said, and for a moment he looked smug: the ambiguity of her statement made him think he had won.

  “I knew you’d see sense, maybe now you can send these two jokers away.” Jack smirked, and for a hideous moment Imogen saw a flicker of her own features in his face. But it was just biology; they would share some similarities, of course they would, but she would not allow those similarities to extend beyond looks. They were very different people – she knew the meaning of family, of loyalty.

  Clarity suddenly washed through her, as she realised she shared that with Ella – they were more similar than she would have thought possible, something that would have previously horrified her. Now it calmed her. It was scary how quickly her feelings could change.

  “I’m a Kingsley.” Her words caught Jack off guard, and for a moment he just gaped at her, stunned. Had she turned round, she would have also seen that Ella looked relieved: perhaps, for a moment, she’d thought Imogen was going to irrationally reconcile with her brother.

  “Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of them.”

  Jack’s sarcastic tone returned: clearly it was the only way he could deal with the unexpected situation. “Any chance of knowing who ‘they’ are?” Was he just buying time, hoping they’d leave? Only he knew, but Imogen made the introductions all the same.

  “Zach, my boyfriend, and Ella, my mother.” She didn’t even bother to use the ‘adopted’ prefix she normally added; there was some serious bonding going on between Ella and Imogen, something which she would have to ponder on later. Right now she didn’t have the time.

  “You already have a mother,” he said sharply, glaring at what his sister had become.

  “Had a mother. Thanks to you, and him, that’s no longer the case.” She spoke coldly, in the detached manner she often did when speaking about her parents. There was no way Ella was ever going to replace her mother, and Imogen didn’t even consider her in the same light as she had done her own mother; despite all that, technically that was what Ella was. Besides, there was no need to explain to Jack how she felt about Ella, how their family worked; it was none of his business.

  “You can’t possibly be so callous as to replace our mother with this-” he didn’t finish his emotional blackmail, because Zach took another step towards him. He was every bit as menacing as Jack, and Jack seemed to realise it. A sense of self-preservation stopped him from insulting Ella in the manner he’d been intending: he changed tack once more. It was amazing how the manifestation of a common enemy meant that Zach, Imogen and Ella were fighting on the same side now; Zach protecting Ella, in his fight to protect Imogen.

  “You can’t blame me for an accident, I wasn’t even around when-” Once again, Jack did not get the chance to complete his sentence. This time he was cut off by laughter: humourless, slightly hysterical laughter from Imogen.

  “You’re calling our mother’s death an accident?” Her carefully constructed calm faltered a little; her voice rose an octave in incredulity. Surely he couldn’t be suggesting that!

  “Since when is murder an accident?” Her voice now was icy sharp, and all three listening flinched slightly at the word: Murder. Only one refuted it.

  “She was not murdered.” His eyes narrowed as he spoke, and he took a step to the side, so he was directly facing Imogen, rather than Zach. He looked down on her, and she met his eyes defiantly.

  “But speaking of murder, I’ve been hearing some rumours I hope are not true about you,” he informed her, in a way that was so devoid of emotion that it was chilling. “If they are t
rue, then I will be blaming you for the fact that we don’t have a father. I sincerely hope that our old neighbours are making up what they have been saying…”

  So he had heard. This was the going to be the tough bit: especially since Ella knew nothing about that part of the story.

  “Finally decided to take an interest, have you?” she asked, and there was sarcasm in her voice; it was her way of protecting herself. Zach took hold of her hand, and Ella moved to her other side, confused, but sure of where her loyalties lay. “You weren’t so bothered when you didn’t turn up for the funeral.”

  “Does this mean the rumours are true?” His anger mounted, and he took a step forward. “You’re not denying anything.”

  “Take another step towards her and you and I will be taking this outside, Jack,” Zach practically growled at him, and although Jack tried to keep up the bravado, Imogen saw the briefest flicker of fear. Maybe he knew that Zach would be capable of causing pain…even if he was equally capable, Jack wouldn’t come out of a fight with Zach without a scratch.