Family Portrait (Kingsley Family Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  She surveyed the area: she needed to know which windows were the best to climb out of. After all, she thought, there would most definitely be a situation in the future where she would have to sneak out or back in to Kingsley Mansion. Luckily for her, there was a tree pretty close to the window. If she was careful, she thought she should be able to jump to it and climb down, without anyone noticing she was gone.

  Imogen perched on the window ledge, her legs hanging out of the window, and made a grab for the nearest, safest-looking branch. As her hand made contact with it, she swung her leg over it, so she was sitting on the branch. Her smile could only have been described as smug at that point. They seemed so rule abiding, this new ‘family’ of hers; rebelling had even more appeal. Closing the window behind her, she began climbing down the tree, jumping softly down once she neared the bottom. She grinned; it was time to explore…

  Imogen padded softly around the grounds, stopping in the garden at the front. Ella was obviously a keen gardener, or one of the Kingsleys was anyway. Even Imogen had to admit it: the garden was beautiful. She wandered around to the back of the house, into the back yard. The front garden stretched round a lot of the house, but there was also an enclosed yard around to the rear. She wasn’t surprised by the obvious signs of the young children living in the house: toys in the backyard; a hop-scotch course drawn out roughly in chalk.

  Imogen kicked a ball out of her way and towards the fence. It clattered against it, but no-one inside the house heard – or if they did, they didn’t come out to investigate what the noise was. She sat in the back yard and surveyed the area: Monroe Manor, Willow Mansion, Page Manor. All of the houses were big, almost commanding respect from any other houses in the area, and indeed they blocked out the other, smaller homes in the neighbourhood. She sighed, as the night sky began to turn pitch black; she knew she’d have to return to that bedroom soon, but she relished her freedom – even though it was just a half-freedom.

  ***

  The night drew in on an eventful day in the lives of both the Meyers and the Kingsleys. Abby hadn’t woken from her nap; Imogen snuck back in, through the same window through which she’d escaped, and was immediately hit by exhaustion. She lay on her bed, reading a magazine she’d found under it entitled ‘Single Mothers’.

  ‘It must be Ella’s,’ she thought to herself, wondering why it would be in this room; what the room was before they’d got there. What the Kingsleys were all about before they’d become the family who’d adopted the Meyers. The magazine began to slide from her hand as she gently nodded off.

  A few minutes later the only sound in the room was the deep breathing of the two sleeping girls, as they found another form of freedom in their dreams.

  Chapter Three

  The week passed by in a blur, and all too soon it was Monday morning – Imogen’s first day at the local community college. Her previous schooling had been disrupted and chaotic: firstly being home schooled by her mother, and then at the school the care home had sent her to – not that she’d ever spent much time there.

  The care home had had so many other kids who needed to be kept on eye on that Imogen had managed on most occasions to slip through the net; she’d mostly hidden out at the home and looked after Abby. But Imogen could tell that Ella wasn’t going to be as lax on her schooling as her previous carers. That Monday morning, Imogen was woken by a hammering on her bedroom door, which she had taken to shutting at night to stop members of her new ‘family’ wandering in whenever they pleased.

  “Uhuh?” she mumbled, still half asleep. Sara was already dressed in her uniform as she stepped into the bedroom.

  “Aunty Ella says you should be up by now. We’ve got to leave in fifteen minutes.” She raised an eyebrow, looking at Imogen tangled in the bed sheets, hair like a birds nest, eyes blurred and definitely not fully awake.

  “Mmmm, whatever…” she mumbled, turning over. It was then that she saw Abby’s empty, neatly-made bed. She sat bolt upright, staring accusatorily at Sara.

  “Where’s Abby?”

  “Abby,” Sara began, not bothering to use her full name as Imogen had been instructing her to all week, and ignoring the death glares Imogen was currently giving her, “is downstairs eating breakfast already - here’s your uniform.” She chucked a pile of clothes onto the bed next to Imogen. “You ought to get ready.”

  Imogen muttered something unheard by Sara under her breath, which sound suspiciously like ‘stupid bitch’.

  Perhaps Sara guessed what was murmured; she slammed the door as she left.

  Imogen crawled out of bed and looked at her uniform. A white shirt, tie, regulation knee-length dark-red skirt and matching jumper.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me…” she muttered in disgust. She put on the uniform, but couldn’t believe she was actually wearing something that hideous. She carefully loosened the tie so it was much further down from her neck, undid the top button of her shirt and rolled up the skirt so that it was significantly above the knee, rather than below it. She scraped her hair up and looked at herself in the mirror.

  ‘Well, I guess I’ve made the best of a bad situation…’ she thought, looking at the jumper and deciding she would never wear it. Ever. She glanced at the clock – ten to nine. She’d spent ten minutes getting ready, and if she didn’t get a move on she’d be late for school.

  ‘As if it really matters,’ she thought. She left her bed unmade in stark contrast to Abby’s, and slammed the door before walking downstairs. That was the second time that morning; it was going to have to get used to being slammed.

  “Morning!” Ella said. Nobody else took much notice of the fact that Imogen had emerged from her bedroom except Abby, who always noticed, and, to Imogen’s surprise, Millie.

  “Good morning Imogen,” the prim brunette began. “Do you not think that maybe your skirt is a little bit too short? And your tie isn’t quite done up properly? And that maybe that’s a bit too much make-up for school?” Her complaints droned on; Imogen just stared at her.

  “Who asked you?” Imogen asked, never at her best first thing in the morning. Millie sat back in her chair looking thoroughly put-out. William sat next to her, clutching a cup of coffee. ‘Coffee,’ Imogen thought to herself. ‘I could do with some of that…’

  “Breakfast, Imogen?” Ella asked, “You’ve got time if you hurry.”

  “No thanks,” Imogen replied shortly, picking Abby up. “I’ve got to go now,” she muttered to her sister. “You stay here with Millie and Dana. I’ll be back soon…” Abby clung to her, but Imogen knew she had to put her back down on the floor.

  “We’re going to be late,” Sara moaned. Imogen put Abby back in the same place she’d been sat as Ella handed her a five-pound note.

  “Here’s some money for lunch - have a good day.” She smiled maternally.

  “Bye,” Imogen called, more to Abby than the rest of the Kingsleys.

  “Bye!” chorused Abby, Dana, Ella and Millie; William’s response was delayed – he obviously didn’t like mornings either. The three girls set off – Sara, Daisy and Imogen. The latter followed moodily behind the two chattering cousins, before spotting a Starbucks.

  “I’m going in here. You go ahead,” she called. It was a statement, not a request. She found life was much less complicated if you avoided asking permission. Sara and Daisy stopped.

  “Imogen you can’t -” Sara started, but Imogen had entered Starbucks before she was even mid-way through her sentence. Imogen ordered a caffeine packed coffee, paying with her lunch money. Taking her first sip, she smiled, and walked back outside to find Daisy and Sara still there, waiting.

  “Are you deaf? Or just stupid?” she asked, scowling. “I said ‘go ahead’ not ‘wait’.” She was now considerably more awake thanks to the coffee, and the Kingsley brats were starting to annoy her.

  “We didn’t want you to get lost on your first day,” Daisy piped up. Now, Imogen wasn’t without heart. Pissed off, maybe, but she couldn’t get annoyed with a li
ttle girl – let alone one who looked so much like Abby.

  “Fine. Let’s go then,” she muttered, sipping her coffee.

  ***

  They were late for school, but only by a couple of minutes. On the way, Sara had dropped Daisy off at the primary school, and once they’d arrived, Sara took Imogen to the principal’s office and then left.

  ‘Probably to apologise profusely to her teacher,’ Imogen thought to herself, smirking.

  “Right then,” the Principal said. “Miss Kingsley, I presume? I’m Mrs. Prudais.” She didn’t allow Imogen the time to answer her original question. “Ah, I see you will be in Sara’s class,” Mrs. Prudais informed her, obviously presuming she would be happy about this fact.

  “Great,” Imogen muttered darkly. She’d obviously been wrong about Sara’s age – she’d assumed her to be a bit younger than herself, but she was clearly the same age.

  “Along the corridor, second door to your left,” she told her briskly, in a no-nonsense tone of voice. Imogen left in silence, and shuffled to her class as slowly as possible. When she eventually reached the door she stepped in and looked expectantly at the teacher, a young woman in her twenties.

  “Miss Kingsley, it is polite and customary for one to knock before entering when one is late,” she barked, without even turning to see if it was ‘Miss Kingsley’, or even looking towards the door in acknowledgement that someone had entered.

  “Get outside and knock,” she ordered, before continuing with the lesson.

  “Geez,” Imogen muttered, rolling her eyes. This got a laugh from a few lads in the back row, a couple of whom, she was pleased to note after a quick glance, were quite good-looking. She shuffled out, and knocked on the door once more, contemplating walking out and not coming back.

  “Come in,” the teacher called, as if she hadn’t expected anyone to knock.

  ‘How sad,’ Imogen thought to herself, awaiting instruction with her arms folded and a look that could kill.

  “Ah, now class, this is Imogen Kingsley – Sara Kingsley’s cousin. Now, I know she hasn’t made the best first impression,” she paused in her patronising to give Imogen a soft glare, “so let’s hope she continues in a better manner.” She sighed, in a manner which suggested this was causing her great distress.

  “Would you care to tell us something about yourself, Miss Kingsley?” Her condescending manner made Imogen want to retch. “Oh, and I’m Miss Morgan.”

  “Uh,” she began, trying to think of something to say – then an idea struck her.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not a blood relative of Sara’s; just an adopted cousin!” The entire class, apart from Sara and a girl sat next to her, erupted into peals of laughter.

  “Thank-you, Miss Kingsley.” Miss Morgan’s tone was even icier than when Imogen had first entered. “That wasn’t really necessary. Now…” She consulted a list and scanned the classroom, obviously deciding where to seat Imogen.

  “So as not to muck up our alphabetical seating plan, please sit between Miss Kingsley and Mr Monroe,” she said. Imogen groaned quietly; sitting next to Sara was the last thing she wanted. However, she brightened up a little when she realised that ‘Mr Monroe’ was one of the hot guys she’d noticed earlier.

  She made sure she sat closer to him than Sara; ‘Undoubtedly,’ she thought to herself, ‘he’ll be less annoying than Sara – and there’s no arguing he’s pretty gorgeous!’ She smirked, more to herself than to anyone around her, and noticed Mr Monroe smirking back. Perhaps going to school wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  “Now class, we will continue with our French essays entitled ‘Ma famille’. Miss Kingsley, start yours from the beginning please, and take some paper off Miss Kingsley or Mr Monroe.” Imogen could only remember bits of the French her mother had taught her – some sentence structures and basic vocabulary, but not a lot. As the noise level in the room began to increase, Imogen leant over to the Monroe guy sitting next to her.

  “I couldn’t borrow some paper, could I?” she asked, with an obvious faked sweetness; a wicked grin was showing through.

  “Okay, so I can’t do goody-two-shoes.” She sighed in mock defeat. He simply smirked again.

  “That’s good…I can’t stand the goody-two-shoes act.” He laughed, passing her a couple of sheets of paper and ignoring the glares he was getting for talking from Miss Morgan.

  “Thanks…Mr Monroe,” she replied, with a slight note of sarcasm to her voice, and her trademark smirk playing on her lips.

  “And it isn’t Mr Monroe. It’s Zach,” he said.

  “Zach…I like it. Does she always use surnames?” she asked. “Because that’s gonna get real confusing what with me and her.” She jerked her head sideways towards Sara. Zach looked annoyed – evidently he resented the fact that he had to be called ‘Mr Monroe’.

  “This teacher always does. The rest don’t tend to…” he said. “So, you’ve moved in with the Kingsleys then?”

  “Yeah, unfortunately,” Imogen said, rolling her eyes once more. Zach laughed quietly.

  “The latest of Ella Kingsley’s charity cases then.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “I am not a charity case!” she replied hotly, looking annoyed. Clearly Ella had a reputation, and Imogen did not wish to be tarred with the same brush – she was not the usual charity-case goody-two-shoes Ella normally took in!

  “Calm down, I’m just joking. I must say, you’re the cutest one she’s taken in so far.” He smiled, and turned back to his essay. Imogen grinned to herself as she began hers.

  The ice was broken; maybe life with the Kingsleys could be made bearable.

  Chapter Four

  ‘Monroe… Monroe…’ Imogen knew she recognised that name from somewhere, and it occupied her thoughts.

  She and Sara were walking towards Daisy’s school silently, after a day at school which hadn’t been as pointless as Imogen had expected. Sara hadn’t spoken a word to Imogen since her comment about them not being related, and the day had certainly improved from that point; Zach had said she could join him and his friends for lunch if she wanted, and of course she had done. It emerged that Zach was two years older than Imogen. Zach had laughed at her confusion, before proceeding to explain.

  “Let’s just say I didn’t bother going to school for a couple of years, so they decided to keep me back two years to redo my GCSEs,” he’d said, rolling his eyes.

  Imogen had also met his friends; a huge crowd of people he hung around with in and out of school, who were mostly Zach’s age and in the year above, with only a handful from her year. These included a few lads – Danny, Scott, James and Daryl – and some girls too: Amelia, who was one of the older ones, and Carrie, Violet and Evangeline, who were in Imogen’s year. Evangeline was Zach’s sister, and seemed to have her big brother wrapped around her little finger.

  Imogen got on well with all three of the girls from her year, and the guys were a laugh too, but she wasn’t so keen on Amelia. This was probably due to the fact that it was mentioned that she and Zach used to date. It was slightly worrying to Imogen that she seemed to be consumed by this guy so fast – she had only known him a day, and was already feeling negative towards girls he’d previously dated. But he was so handsome, and definitely Imogen’s type: older, good looking, funny, a bit of a bad boy – he ticked all the right boxes.

  She grinned to herself remembering a scathing comment Zach had made about Sara earlier in the day, as they approached the outside of Daisy’s school and waited for her. It was probably a good thing Sara hadn’t heard it: she highly doubted that she would have appreciated being called a boring, uptight seventy-year-old in a fifteen-year-old’s body.

  Zach and Evangeline, Imogen had found out during their lunch hour earlier in the day, lived mostly on their own; their parents travelled a lot of the time, leaving Zach in charge of his sister. They even, Evangeline had boasted earlier, employed staff to clean and cook in the manor. Manor. That’s when it struck Imogen. Manor – Monroe Manor! It was the
large house she’d been staring at from the study window. That was how she knew the name – they were practically neighbours! Imogen grinned. Living near a guy that hot couldn’t be a bad thing!

  She bit her lip and sighed before deciding to speak to Sara once more. She preferred the silence, but wanted information.

  “Sara,” she said. “What do you know about Monroe Manor?” she asked, in the sweetest tone she could possibly muster.

  “Monroe Manor? It’s the house near ours. That idiot you were sat next to today lives there with his sister. They tend to have lots of parties with people mainly from the higher years – they all usually stay over. Their parents are rarely around,” she informed her, matter-of-factly. As much as Imogen did not appreciate Sara calling a guy she liked an idiot, she didn’t comment as she still wanted more information.

  “So, uh, does he walk to school?”

  “Yes, I think so, but why do you care?” she asked, with a small smirk that looked out of place on her face.