After a cup of tea and wandering about her place with no aim for the hundredth time, Daffy grabbed her keys and returned Dad’s motor.
She arrived in time for pudding, and for a moment, the day was shut out, conquered by the comfort of her parents’ home.
But the conversation turned to the secret baby, what Daffy knew, how and when, and the possible ramifications of Leslie Ann’s exposé.
Sitting at the banquette in Mum’s warm, bright yellow kitchen, pretending to enjoy a slice of Mum’s yummy pumpkin cake, Daffy remained a foreigner in her own world. But the cake wasn’t yummy after all. Instead it tasted bland and dry, and Mum’s usually strong coffee was like water.
Dad’s phone pinged with a text and she jumped, thinking it was hers. But it wasn’t. She’d left her phone at home, shoved under a couch cushion. Gus had called but she wasn’t ready to talk to him. No matter how she imagined the conversation, it ended with goodbye.
On top of that, she and Dad didn’t even use the same text tone.
She had to get over this. Move on. Brooding changed nothing. Life was too short to wallow. But oh, how was it possible the queen’s secret daughter business burned Daffy twice? She didn’t mean to hear about it back then. She didn’t mean for Ella to give Leslie Ann her private diary now.
“What’d the queen and king consort say when you told them?” Dad returned to the yellow table with the yellow seat cushions, holding another slice of cake. “By the way, you did the right thing, love. Giving the Family a heads up. I’m proud of you. Brave, that’s right, what you did was brave.”
“They said nothing really. Lady Holland was the kindest, but the princes were shocked, as was the king consort. Her Majesty was upset, of course, in an eerily calm way. She was the one to say she had a daughter, not me. I merely set the stage.”
“Gus hasn’t rung?” Mum refilled Daffy’s coffee.
“Yes, but I’ve not listened to his messages.
“Why not? You love each other.” Mum again.
“For all of five minutes. I can’t expect him to choose me over his family. He’s better to break with me now and support the queen. I’m sure that’s how the conversation will go.” Daffy pressed her hand over her middle, all the sadness and tension building into a solid rock.
“You’re such a martyr, Daff.” Ella finished her last bite of cake. “The poor little girl who got kicked from the palace. ‘Woe is me, I deserve the dungeon.’ Fight for him. Stand with himandthe queen. Did you even give him a chance?”
“You weren’t there, Ella. You don’t know. For your information, he agreed I should go. Didn’t try to stop me. I’m quite sure they all hate me. Especially the queen. This is probably her worst fear come to life. Thanks to me, my little sister, and my friend, Leslie Ann.”
“Then make her see truth. No one likes a perpetual victim.” Ella dropped her plate into the sink with a clatter. “Remind them I gave away the diary. That all you wanted was to apologize when you overheard the call. Is there no justice anymore?”
“You know, I wonder if this disaster isn’t a blessing,” Daffy said, holding her coffee without taking a sip. “A sign I’m not right for the Family. I’m not House of Blue material. Finding myself the victim far too often. With them I’m usually in the wrong place at the wrong time. Thank you, Ella. You’ve opened my eyes.”
“Mum, Dad, talk to her.” Ella leaned down in front of their father. “Why is her glass always half empty?”
“Ella, you cannot deny my bad luck with the Blues,” Daffy said. “Best to be free of any lofty notions of making a go with Gus.” She gulped her coffee and reached for her cake, which tasted rather yummy this time round.
You should at least call him,” Ella said. “What if he’s waiting for you to respond?”
“I don’t think he is.”
“You’re such a martyr.” Ella sighed as she dropped down to her seat. “What about Leslie Ann? Are you really breaking with her? She is one of your closest friends.”
“Was. And yes.”
“Are you going to forgive her?” Ella said.
Daffy added a bit more cream to her cup. “Eventually.”
“I still can’t get my head round it.” Dad leaned forward, arms on the table. “You heard the queen say she had a daughter?”
“In so many words. Just how she went on and on about how this girl—she—who was turning sixteen and something about a cotillion. Which I had to look up later. Anyway, she said she’d not seen her since she was a baby. It was hard to understand everything because she cried the whole time, telling some bloke named Trent that she missed her. I remember his name because of a chap in my class at school. She asked if he was a good father.” An old memory surfaced. “Mum, I just remembered. The queen also asked if the girl wondered about her. If she did, what did he say?”
“That’s right. I remember you telling me.”
“I’m sure I wrote it down.”
Dad rocked back in his chair with a low whistle, propping his coffee cup on his chest. “Just goes to show you that you never really know about people. Morwena, you don’t have a secret child, do you?”
