Family Portrait (Kingsley Family Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  Family Portrait

  Written by Rebecca Paulinyi

  © Rebecca Paulinyi 2018

  This story has been in my mind for many years now, since I started writing it over ten years ago. I would like to dedicate this book to Sarah, who ran the best Harry Potter RPG website and brought so many characters to life, and inspired so much of this novel.

  I would also like to thank my husband Josh, for his unrelenting support of my writing no matter what.

  fam⋅i⋅ly

  [fam-uh-lee, fam-lee]

  Noun

  A group of persons sharing common ancestry

  Prologue

  When she ended up climbing from her window sill to the first branch she could reach, Imogen Meyer felt no guilt. She’d never much liked living by the rules. Sure, it wasn’t the easiest exit route from her new home, but she didn’t fancy running into her new family, which she undoubtedly would if she took the traditional way out. Besides, she reckoned she needed the practice; it wouldn’t be long before the Kingsleys were doing her head in – she could tell.

  It was only a short period of escape – she didn’t want her new family to notice she was gone – but it was enough to satisfy her for one evening. The house felt stuffy, overcrowded. There were so many new people she had to get to know, and pretend to like; she wondered for a moment if all the hassle was worth it. Angrily she dismissed this thought; she knew it was worth it. As much as she hated the prospect of living in this house, with these people, she’d have done it twice over if her little sister had needed her to. Abby had always been the most important thing in Imogen’s life; Imogen was not going to let her down just because she was faced with a difficult decision.

  Chapter One

  Imogen Meyer sat in the room she was to share with her sister. She had always shared with Abby: back at home, then in the care home and now here at ‘Kingsley Mansion’.

  Imogen was feeling unsure about their new adoptive mother already; she hadn’t been sure about it for the past six months, which had been filled with visits and meetings and all manner of dull procedures that had to be followed when a family was found for a child in care. But, after a lot of debating with Ella Kingsley, their new adoptive guardian – she was definitely not calling her ‘mum’ – she had decided to move in with her and her family. It was more for Abby’s sake really. Abby had hated the care home.

  The decision hadn’t been easy, but Abby had always been the most important thing in Imogen’s life, and that wasn’t going to change just because she was faced with a difficult decision. Imogen had accepted Ella as her adopted mother on one condition: no-one else looked after Abby. Imogen had been the only one to look after her little sister for years, ever since there’d been no-one else left to do the job; Imogen wasn’t going to change for anyone. However, Ella had agreed without any persuasion, so there they were.

  Picking Abby up, Imogen took her downstairs, speaking softly in the little girl’s ear to reassure her. She wondered what Abby was thinking, as she sat silently, taking in their new surroundings. When it came to Abby, Imogen was mature beyond her fifteen years.

  Imogen and Abigail were as prepared as they were ever going to be to meet their new family.

  There were just three people in the living room, which surprised Imogen; she knew that there were children in the family, but they didn’t seem to be present. In a way, Imogen found she was glad – she didn’t want Abby to be overwhelmed by too many new ‘family’ members.

  “Is everything all right with the room?” Ella asked. Her answer came in the form of a small nod from Imogen. Ella did not falter after this short reply, but proceeded to the two other adults occupying the room. Imogen placed Abby on the floor next to her, and the little girl stood as close to Imogen as was physically possible.

  “This is my brother, William Kingsley,” Ella said, and Imogen was faced by a middle-sized, middle-aged man who she reckoned could only be in his mid forties. He smiled and greeted her before turning back to a magazine that Imogen recognised as one her mother used to read – a supplement from a national newspaper.

  “And this is Millie Heart,” Ella continued, “William’s fiancée.”

  Imogen stared at the woman. She was obviously younger than William, and something about her made her seem dull. Imogen couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was – the clothes? The conservative make-up? Her eyes? – but something about the woman just screamed boring.

  Imogen continued to stand in the doorway, looking sullen as usual and not bothering to say anything now that the introductions seemed to have finished. Ella, however, was not fazed by this, although Imogen noticed Millie did look a little uncomfortable.

  ‘Good,’ she thought to herself. This family would have to learn that Imogen Meyer (as was her mother’s last name; officially she was, regretfully, now a Kingsley) would not conform.

  “This is Imogen and Abby-”

  “Abigail.” Imogen interrupted Ella’s attempt to introduce the siblings; only Imogen ever called her Abby.

  “Imogen and Abigail,” Ella corrected herself, unperturbed.

  “How old?” Millie asked, addressing Ella rather than Imogen, who had already decided she didn’t like the pretentious Millie.

  “Imogen is fifteen, and Abigail has just turned four – last week in fact!” Ella said, after an anxious glance towards Imogen. Although on the outside Ella appeared cool, calm and collected, she was actually worried about what would happen. The adoption process hadn’t run as smoothly as last time, when integrating her daughter Daisy into their family had been relatively easy.

  “Lunch anyone?” she asked, changing the subject.

  ***

  Lunch wasn’t a quiet affair, and the dining room, despite its size, was crammed full. Although she’d been surprised at being greeted by just three adults previously, she was now greeted by the sight of the dining room filled with this family she had become a part of.

  ‘Large family,’ she thought to herself, and she glanced around the table – in addition to herself, Abby, and the three adults she had met, there were a further four children seated around her. She had not, however, been surprised to find this. Ella seemed the type who would value family. Her real mother, Lauren Meyer, had been the total opposite to Ella Kingsley; she definitely hadn’t held family in huge regard, except for her kids. Other than her four children, Jack, Fleur, Abby and Imogen, and her husband, Lauren had never really had much contact with family. The problem with that was after everything had happened; when they had no parents left to take care of them, there was no-one else to turn to.

  Imogen must have had a glazed look on her face, because she heard Ella repeating her name a couple of times, before offering her a sandwich. Imogen took one, and, realising she was actually quite hungry, ate it whilst listening to a conversation taking place at the opposite end of the table, between Millie and William.

  “But darling, the staff there are insolent. They chucked me out at five o’clock. We’ll have to use J&B’s wedding service,” Millie said.

  “They were probably closing darling. And you know perfectly well I won’t shop at J&B’s. They are ridiculously overpriced,” William replied. It sounded like this particular discussion had been had a thousand times before.

  “Wickedly White Weddings will do perfectly. I’ve always found the staff most pleasant.”

  “But darling…” Millie said, in an obviously well-perfected whine. It didn’t seem to be the first time that she had got her own way. William sighed, but took the J&B’s wedding service catalogue from Millie, and began to flick through it. Down at Imogen’s end of the table another conversa
tion had started, this time actually involving Imogen. As she turned her head, she noticed the glare on the face sat opposite her, which was directed towards Millie. She guessed that the girl was fourteen or so, and tried to remember who she was. She had, of course, been privy to the details of the Kingsley family before moving in, but she realised now that she hadn’t paid that much attention.

  “Sara, could you pass the salt?” Ella asked, and the name triggered what little knowledge about the family that she’d stored away. Sara…that was, Imogen was pretty sure, William’s daughter. However, it seemed there was no love lost between her and Millie – if her glare was anything to go by, that was – and so Imogen was pretty sure Millie wasn’t her mother. She began to wish she’d paid a little more attention when Ella had been banging on about her family.

  “So where are your real Mummy and Daddy?” A blonde girl to the left of Ella asked innocently, speaking to Abby and Imogen. Abby glanced at Imogen, who replied. The girl did not resemble Ella, or Millie, and so Imogen wondered whether she was another adoptee.

  “Daisy,” Ella said, presumably chiding the girl for asking such a question, but Imogen answered anyway.

  “My father accidentally killed my mother. Then… he died a month later, of a heart attack,” Imogen said, straying more than slightly from the truth.

  ‘Well…the truth would only shock them,’ she thought to herself. And it had been an accident... well, her father would have told the police it was an accident.

  ‘Actually,’ she mentally noted, ‘I‘m surprised they didn’t tell her. Or maybe they did… maybe she’s just not mentioning it.’

  Ella didn’t look shocked at the lie; Imogen wondered whether that was what she’d been told. She knew there had been confidentiality agreements between her and the psychiatrist she’d been forced to see. The psychiatrists were the only people who’d known the true story. Daisy moved closer to her mum and Abby promptly stood up and climbed onto Imogen’s lap. Sara was still, however, glowering at Millie, seemingly unaware of the atmosphere change. The little girl sat next to Sara was so blatantly Millie’s child that she didn’t have to try and remember – although she did find she remembered the girl’s name: Dana. Dana was glancing toward her parents, but without the animosity of Sara.

  Imogen was not without emotion when it came to her parents - well, her mother anyway - in fact, it was probably the most emotional subject for her. But she was not one to cry, or show a great deal of her emotion; she detached herself from the subject, never using the words Mum and Dad – Dad wasn’t a problem really: Mum was – especially when talking to other people. Her mother was rarely a subject of discussion, and even then the discussion was only between Abby and Imogen. Discussion was quite a strong word, really; in reality, Imogen had ranted, and Abby had listened, doe-eyed, not understanding what was happening. Imogen had just needed someone, anyone, to talk to.

  Ella cleared her throat and hurriedly changed the subject. Whilst she chatted idly away about wedding details, Imogen glanced towards Sara, who was looking slightly less moody now that Millie and William seemed to be arguing about the wedding. Again. Sara caught Imogen looking at her and turned away, towards the clock.

  “Aunty Ella…” Sara said. “It’s two o’clock already. Didn’t you want to register Imogen and Abby -”

  “- Abigail,” Imogen said, not bothering to be polite in her correction.

  “Imogen and Abby,” Sara continued, looking a little annoyed at being interrupted but not bothering to correct herself, “at school and playgroup before three?”

  “Where’s the school?” Imogen asked.

  “It’s the local school… just down the road and round the corner,” Ella said. “You’re right Sara, I ought to phone them now…”

  “We’ll clear up,” William told his sister. “Ella made the lunch so everyone can help…” After a couple of grumbles, everyone was stuck in, clearing the table and washing up. Ella smiled to herself whilst reaching for the phone.

  The Kingsley family had just got bigger…

  Chapter Two

  Imogen sat in the bay-window in the study, with Abby napping in the next room. She stared out of the window at a large house next door but one to the Kingsleys’. It was bigger than theirs, in the same rich part of Wiltshire where most people owned houses with ‘Manor’ or ‘Mansion’ in the name (although there was one ironic ‘Cottage’); the one she was staring at was ‘Monroe Manor’.

  She wondered, momentarily, how the Kingsleys afforded such a house, in such an expensive area. They didn’t seem like rich types, and she didn’t remember Ella saying she had a well-paid job – well, she actually didn’t remember what Ella did for a living, but she thought she would have done if it was well-paid. She made a mental note to ask Ella, the next time she was stuck for small talk.

  She jumped as a clock behind her chimed five o’clock. After they had all helped to clear up (Imogen had made sure she had done as little as possible) the younger children had wanted, or been told, to take a nap – Abigail included. Millie had taken Dana to her bedroom and ordered her to take a nap; Daisy, although seven years old, said she wanted a nap after apparently having been up half the night with a headache, and Abigail too had looked sleepy. Imogen had taken her upstairs, and she had crawled under her duvet, and fallen asleep almost instantly.

  Imogen sighed and got up, deciding she ought to unpack, even though it would cement her new life in Wiltshire. She distanced herself from the task as she hung her shirts and trousers in her new wardrobe. Seeing them there didn’t make the room feel like her own; it felt more like she was tied to the house. She stared at her familiar clothes in the unfamiliar surroundings, before turning with a sigh to start on Abby’s belongings. Halfway through hanging her little sister’s dresses on miniature hangers she heard a soft knocking on the bedroom door, which she had closed so that Abby wasn’t woken.

  “Yes?” she called, wondering who it was. Ella walked through the door; Imogen wasn’t surprised. The rest of the family hadn’t seemed disinterested in the new arrivals, but she would have been surprised to see them in her room.

  “I’ve sorted out school for you… I was wondering what you wanted to do about Abigail whilst you’re there. I know we agreed on your arrangement, but obviously during school, things have to be a little different,” she said in hushed tones, trying not to wake the sleeping girl. Imogen pursed her lips.

  “Do I have to go to school? Can’t I just stay here and look after Abby?”

  “Imogen, it’s the law,” Ella said. “You have to go to school until you’re at least sixteen. Someone else will have to look after Abigail while you’re at school.” She paused, hoping Imogen wasn’t going to be difficult when it came to this problem, which she could do nothing about it. “She can go to playgroup a couple of mornings a week,” Ella said, trying to come to some arrangement Imogen would at least be semi-happy with. “I work all day, but Millie doesn’t work, she stays at home and looks after Dana.” Imogen smirked. Millie was just one of those people who you could tell didn’t work.

  “Where do you work?” Imogen asked, trying to take a detour off the subject so she could think what to do. If she couldn’t look after Abby herself during the day then she guessed she was going to have to trust the Kingsleys – it just felt very wrong to trust this family that she didn’t know that well with the most important person in her life.

  “All over the place – I’m a supply teacher,” she said, whilst Imogen racked her brains; she couldn’t come up with another solution.

  “I guess she’ll have to stay here with Millie and Dana,” she said, her apprehension clear in the way she chewed her lip. “But I’m leaving as soon as I’m sixteen. Definitely.”

  “If that’s what you want to do, I won’t stop you,” Ella said.

  ‘As if you could,’ Imogen added in her head. She smirked a little, but Ella didn’t seem to notice – or if she did, she mistook it for a smile. Glad that some sort of arrangement regarding Abigail ha
d been made, Ella walked towards the door as if to leave the room. She paused for a second, and then turned.

  “Are you all right up here then?” she asked. “You can come downstairs if you want; all we’re doing is watching television.” There was no doubting that Ella’s smile was genuine, but, somehow, it annoyed Imogen.

  “We’re fine,” Imogen said. “And thanks. You know, for taking us in,” she mumbled, more for Abby than for herself – she hadn’t minded the care home – and because it felt like it needed to be said. Ella just continued to smile, and left her new daughters in peace.

  Imogen sighed; this family was already driving her crazy. She threw her pillow at the wall, frustrated. Why had she been landed with this bloody goody-two-shoes, nice-as-pie family? They were so different from her real family. She knew, had her mother ever met Ella Kingsley, she would have hated her.

  She laughed quietly to herself, looking over at the sleeping form of Abby; she quietly kissed her on the forehead, before opening the window.