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Chapter Thirty-Nine
Raven
“Mummy!” Phoenix squeals in delight and launches herself at me. I catch her and scoop her up into the biggest hug, holding her tightly and breathing in her strawberry scent. I drove all night, haven’t slept in days, haven’t eaten in hours…and it was totally worth it.
“Baby, I’ve missed you so much!” I smile, tears welling in my eyes.
“Me too, mummy!” Phoenix beams at me. I put her down and she looks around me in search of something. Or someone. I sigh;
I know what’s coming.
“Mummy, where’s Bax?”
“He had to work, baby, he’s so sorry he couldn’t be here.” I hate lying to Phoenix but I can’t tell her the truth. This is the first time I’ve come to Cordelia’s without him, but I’m just too angry to be around him still.
“Oh. Why don’t you have shoes on, Mummy?” She stares down at my slippered feet. I didn’t have time to stop and pull on my running shoes last night.
“Silly me! I was so excited to get to you, that I forgot to change!” I laugh and Phoenix squeals like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Have you had a lovely time?” I ask, distracting her.
“Yeah! The best! And guess what?”
“What, baby?” I grin at her, waiting to be regaled with all of her adventures from the last week.
“Grandmama is sending me to a special school!”
My blood runs cold. Then boils. Over my dead fucking body. No. No way. She must be mistaken. Why on earth would Cordelia do that?
“Have you packed everything, baby?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“I think so.”
“Can you go and check every room really carefully for me? I’m just going to speak to Grandmama real quick.”
Phoenix beams at me, oblivious to the strain in my voice, and races off to gather up the overlooked items. She’ll still leave something behind, she always does. But it buys me some time.
I stride through the wide, decadent halls that were once so familiar to me.
“Charlotte?” Cordelia’s cold clipped tones make me cringe.
“Raven,” I correct.
“My apologies. It’s good to see you looking...well,” she falters. It’s a pathetic lie; I look like shit.
“Long drive,” I murmur.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” she asks. I don’t blame her. This is the most we’ve spoken in years. I usually collect Phoenix while she stays out of the way so that we don’t have to interact at all.
“Care to explain why Phoenix thinks she’s going to a special school?” I’m livid, but force my tone to remain civil.
“You know she’s due to start school in September.”
“I do. She’ll be going to our local primary,” I state firmly.
“I would have thought you would want the best for her. I know I certainly do.”
“Define ‘best’,” I force through gritted teeth.
“I’ve enrolled her at Westchester Preparatory Primary Academy, of course.” She sniffs condescendingly.
