Mum looks like she immediately understands. “That boy takes after my brother too much.” She huffs, then plasters a smile back on. “I hope you’re hungry, lunch should be ready soon.”
I frown, approaching the two ladies. “You’re cooking?”
Mum nods. “Yes, I’ve been cooking for a couple days now.”
Pride swells within me and I put an arm around her shoulders. “There’s no bringing you down, is there?”
She beams up at me. “Come. We have so much to talk about!”
CHAPTER 27
ELODIE
Alfie’s mum is simply beautiful. He takes most of his features from her: the blue eyes, the square jaw, the nose with a slight bump on the bridge. She’s quite tall too, a couple inches taller than me, with a slightly broader frame than petite. Her golden hair matches Alfie’s. Her smile is just as bright as his as they saunter into the kitchen together. It’s clear to me now that the Blackwood genes are the huge, bulky ones. Poor Caden obviously inherited his mother’s build. She must have been a slight woman.
They’re caught up in conversation, Alfie hounding her with a million questions of how she’s feeling, what she’s been doing, has Higgins been checking in. I can tell she’s related to Russell. It’s in the confident way she squares her shoulders, speaks with a fluid grace that only comes from a lofty education and being around high-calibre people one’s whole life. They may share physical features, but it’s also obvious they were raised in the same strict way.
Despite being Russell’s sister, Debbie radiates a genuine kindness, not one I feel is tactful or deceiving. It immediately puts me at ease.
I stand there on the other side of her long kitchen island, which is bright white marble, faintly listening, but mostly just admiring Alfie with his mother. They have a good relationship, that much is obvious, he loves her dearly. And she him.
It makes my chest hurt a little.
The kitchen is bathed in sunlight from the glass French doors running the length of the back wall, all appliances white and gleaming. Such brightness in comparison to the black cave I currently live in.
Alfie helps her prepare the meal, bringing over all the plates to the dining table across the house. He sits next to me with his mum at the head on his other side.
“So, tell me, Elodie,” Debbie says, forking some lettuce leaves. “Has my family converted you to their evil and sinister ways yet?”
“Mum,” Alfie says.
I giggle. “Not just yet, but they’re wearing me down.”
Debbie’s lips purse. “Could never stand it. Hated what my brother did. I’m so glad I was born a woman in the family. I would never partake in what Russell does.”
“Alright, let’s not go down this dark road and scare El.”
“Why not? If this poor girl is forced to join our travesty of a family, she deserves to know what she’s being forced into.”
“I already know,” I say quickly, “I’d heard of the Blackwoods long before I was introduced to them.”
She gives me a sad look, then reaches over and cups Alfie’s cheek. “This boy had enough on his plate before my brother corrupted him even more.”
“Mum.”
A deep sorrow glazes over her blue eyes as she stares at her son. “I wish I’d done things differently. Wish I’d left before it was too late. Before he warped my son.”
Alfie drops his fork and pinches his nose. “Mum, please. No one corrupted me. I was born that way and you know it.” He fixes her with a glare I’ve never seen on him before. “Let’s not bombard El with all the bullshit of the past. I brought her here to have a nice lunch.” He turns to me. “Don’t listen to her. She’s always been dramatic.”
She shakes her head slightly. “I can’t change the past, but the future can always be changed,” her tone switches back to cheerful, “hopefully you can keep him in check, Elodie, keep his future bright. And keep him from going off the rails again.” She beams at me.
Again?
I look at Alfie, who avoids meeting my gaze, shoving a mouthful of chicken into his mouth.
“I’m not sure what you mean, Debbie,” I say, letting curiosity get the better of me. It’s not my place to pry, but maybe there are certain things I need to know about the men I’m forced to live with.
“And you don’t need to,” Alfie interjects, shooting his mother a warning glare. “Mum blames herself if I get a paper cut. Always says she could have prevented it. Mum guilt runs deep with this one.” He jerks his head toward her.
