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The Perfect Guests
Author: Emma Rous

 

PART 1

 

 

Beth


   July 1988

   The house sat on a gentle rise in the otherwise flat landscape, as if it considered itself a castle in this kingdom of marshy scrubland and water channels and rustling green fields. Pale gray walls, broad steps rising from neat gravel to the front door, row upon row of gleaming square windows, and—

   “Is that a turret?” I craned my neck through the passenger window. “Is this whole place really just for three people?”

   “Four, if you behave yourself.” Caroline jerked the steering wheel to swing us onto the driveway, bumping me back into my seat. “Remember your manners, Beth. Stop gawping.”

   The driveway was longer than the road I used to live on when my parents were still alive, but someone in the house must have been watching for us, because already the front door was swinging open. Three figures emerged, and they waited side by side on the top step, like a proper welcoming committee. Even from this distance I recognized Leonora’s golden curls and Markus’s thick straw-colored hair.

   I’d met Leonora and Markus only once before, a week earlier, when they had introduced themselves to me at the end of my summer concert. Markus had congratulated me on my performance, while Leonora studied me with an intense sympathetic gaze. Then, somehow, Leonora had coaxed more details out of me about my life at the children’s home than I’d ever shared with anyone.

   In between them now, on the top step, stood a slender teenage girl, and I knew this must be their daughter, Nina. Nina was the important one. She was the reason I’d been invited here. I wasn’t close enough yet to read her expression, but I crossed my fingers and tried to do the same with my toes inside my too-tight jelly shoes. I hope she likes me.

   The car came to a crunching halt on the sunbaked gravel, and for a long moment, nobody moved. Leonora, Markus, and Nina squinted down at us from the top step. Caroline, for once, offered no spiky words of advice. I squeezed the door handle with clammy fingers, holding my breath and gazing back at Nina. She wasn’t smiling. Did she hate this idea of her parents’? Would Caroline end up driving me—her jaw tight, her knuckles a furious white on the steering wheel—straight back to the children’s home before today was over?

   A disdainful squawk made us all glance up as a goose flapped overhead, and the tension was broken. I scrambled from the car, and Leonora’s gaze locked onto mine. Then she started down the steps, her arms outstretched.

   “Beth! Caroline. We’re so glad to see you. Welcome to Raven Hall.”

   I leaned into Leonora’s hug. Her perfume was powdery rose petals, soft and comforting. When she released me, Markus shook my hand heartily, and then he glanced over his shoulder to where his daughter still hovered on the top step.

   “Nina, come down and say hello.”

   All I knew about Nina was her age. When I’d asked Caroline for more information in the car, she’d snapped at me to let her concentrate on driving. So I’d turned my gaze to the blurry fields and tried to recall the conversation I’d had with Leonora and Markus—I’d been entirely oblivious to its significance at the time. Leonora had mentioned that their daughter had recently turned fourteen, but that was it—that was all I remembered. It meant we’d be in the same school year, since I was only a few months older, and of course, we might have all sorts of other things in common . . . But as I watched Nina skip down the steps and land lightly on the gravel, I felt a lurch of doubt.

   Not only was she shorter than me, she was also much skinnier and younger-looking. Her pixielike face wore an expression of detached amusement, and I tugged at my T-shirt self-consciously, not knowing what to say. No one had explained what was expected of me here; I didn’t even know how long the arrangement might be for. All Caroline had said was “You can be a companion for their daughter for a while, until I’m ready for you to move in with me.”

   Nina and I studied each other. The adults watched us in silence, as if we were specimens being introduced in a zoo. The conviction that she was going to reject me swelled in my chest until it was physically painful. Then she gave me a surprisingly shy smile.

   “Hi,” she said. “I’m Nina. I really hope you’re going to like it here.”

   Relief rushed into my lungs.

   “Me too,” I said. “I mean, thanks.” I gestured awkwardly at the imposing gray house behind her. “I’m sure I will.”

   Leonora stepped between us then, and she placed one hand on the back of my head—she was barely taller than me—and the other on Nina’s dark hair.

   “Look at you two,” Leonora murmured. “Total opposites. Like chalk and cheese.”

   I stiffened. Nina seemed happy enough to meet me; surely Leonora hadn’t changed her mind? But Leonora sounded wistful rather than disappointed, and Nina sidestepped away from her and gave me an apologetic grimace.

   “Can I show Beth up to her room, Mum?”

   Leonora blinked as if dragging her thoughts back from somewhere else.

   “What? Oh yes, of course.” She turned to Caroline. “Will you come in for a cup of tea? Or you’re welcome to stay for dinner . . .”

   But Caroline was already reaching into her car boot and setting my bags and violin case down on the gravel. “No, no, I’ve got to get back. Long flight tomorrow, you know.” She slammed the boot shut, walked around to the driver’s door, and fixed me with her sharp stare. “Be good, Beth.”

   I ground my teeth. When had I ever not been good? I’d never complained about Caroline putting her work before me, even though we were the only family each of us had left. Each time she’d promised vaguely that I’d be able to move in with her soon, I’d smiled as if I believed her. Even this morning, when she confessed—out of earshot of the children’s home staff—that she wasn’t quite ready to take me in herself but that she’d found me a private foster placement, I’d merely nodded politely.

   Now she raised her eyebrows at me, waiting.

   I gave her a tight smile. “I will, Aunt Caroline. Thank you for driving me here.”

   I stood between Leonora and Nina as Caroline’s car accelerated away down the drive, and I knew this was my last chance to change my mind. If I ran now, if I sprinted after her car, waving my arms, Caroline would see me in her mirror, and she’d stop for me; she’d take me away from these people—these strangers. She’d take me back to the children’s home, before flying out to Istanbul or Sydney or wherever her work would be taking her tomorrow. I glanced left and right at Leonora and Nina. But why would I want to leave, when these people seemed so welcoming, and this house so entrancing?

   “Not even a cup of tea,” Leonora muttered, staring after the car, but I knew her disapproval was for Caroline and not for me, so I didn’t mind.

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