In Scientia, page 16
“I take it the Sinclairs sent you,” I said, smug I’d made the connection.
“Something like that,” said the brunette. “Your mother was our cousin.”
“You’re sisters?” I asked.
“No,” they laughed. “Second cousins,” continued the blonde.
They looked at me in a way that made me want to run, like predators eyeing prey.
“Oh, well, I’d love to talk to you about it some more, but…” I gestured to the rain.
“Of course,” said the blonde, ignoring me. “We just wanted to stop by and make sure you were okay. Your mother was like a sister to us.”
“Our condolences,” added the brunette. Almost making me believe she cared.
“Thanks,” I replied. “But if we could just speed this up?” I wasn’t being covered by either of their umbrellas.
Shock spread across both their faces, as if I was the first to see through their façade.
“We just wanted you to know you have options,” offered the blonde. “For instance, if you wanted to get away, anywhere in the world you’d like, you could take our plane. She flies almost eight thousand nautical—”
“Eva!” A voice called out from behind me.
It was Alida, waving me over from the back seat of a Rolls-Royce limousine.
“Speak of the devil, and she shall appear,” said the brunette, sliding up next to me.
The blonde mirrored her on my other side. “We’re here for you in any way that you need,” she said, too close to my ear. I felt like I was in a movie. Or rather a pantomime.
“Money’s no object,” added the brunette. “We could set you up with some of that too, if you needed.” Why did everyone related to this family assume I could be bought? As if I were defined by what they clearly regarded as my lowest attribute.
Alida’s driver had stepped out of the car and was leading her towards us, umbrella over her head.
“Forcing me to get out of the car is below even you two,” she said approaching, before turning to me. “What did they say to you?”
“Nothing,” said the blonde, interrupting.
“They were in the middle of trying to convince me to leave. So far I’ve been offered a plane and cash,” I said. “I’m crossing my fingers a pony’s next.”
“Well, I hope it didn’t work,” said Alida. “The rest of the family—”
“No, just the opposite,” I said. “If anything, they’ve piqued my interest.”
In truth, they hadn’t. All I wanted was to go back inside, take another shower (I was soaked again) and go back to sleep. But my ego refused to give them the satisfaction.
Pride flashed in Alida’s eyes. “Let’s go then, shall we?”
“Yes, let’s,” said the blonde, marching forward. “We can all ride together.”
“You can tell us the story, on the way, of how you happened to find us after all this time,” the brunette chimed in. “We're dying to know.” Her tone reeked of accusation but of what, I couldn’t tell.
Alida extended her arm, gesturing for me to join her in the car. Just as she was about to get in, she turned and warned, “Be careful what you say in front of them. They’re as cunning as snakes.”
“Funny,” I said. “They implied the same thing about you.”
I climbed into the plush backseat, with Alida sliding in beside me. The two women sat in seats that faced us, the confined space stretching out the invisible tension even further.
“Dry off, darling,” said Alida, handing me a blanket with H’s all over it as we accelerated forward. “You don’t want the damp getting into your bones.”
I did as she told me, but only because I wanted to know what it felt like to use cashmere as a towel.
“I see you’ve met my niece, Elizabeth,” she said, pointing to the brunette. “And Terence’s niece, Nicole,” gesturing to the blonde.
I nodded, unsure what to make of them.
“Though I don’t remember inviting either of them,” said Alida. “As usual, I’m disappointed, but not surprised.”
“I don’t remember inviting any of you,” I said, turning my attention to her. “Why were you outside my hotel?” I asked, defensively.
“Can you call that a hotel?” Nicole slipped in.
“I don’t appreciate being watched.”
“In case you wanted to come tonight,” replied Alida. The lights of Piccadilly Circus reflected off her jeweled bodice as we drove by. “The weather was terrible, and I felt so bad letting you go out in it this afternoon. I didn’t have your number to call you… so I came along. Hoping.”
“I’m fairly certain Ms. Akande has my number, or could find it very quickly if she didn’t. Along with my social security information and the name of the last boy I kissed.” As if just saying the word summoned the memory of Max, I felt my body go back to our date. Bliss, followed by an agonizing blow.
Alida smiled at me as I shrugged off the thought. “We’ve missed out on so much, Eva. We just want a chance to change that.”
I didn’t know how to respond. The words themselves were beautiful. The fairytale kind that every parentless kid dreams of hearing. But I didn’t trust a single syllable, which in my mind rendered any potential feelings null and void.
I sat back in the seat, holding onto the wet cashmere.
“We came because we wanted to represent both sides of the family.”
“There is only one side of this family, Nicole,” shot Alida. “The sooner you learn that—”
“Easy to say when you and Terence are the ones dictating the terms.”
“Rules are rules. We have them for a reason,” dismissed Alida. “And that is the last I want to hear of it this evening. It is vulgar to air private business in front of one’s guests,” she stated with finality, as we pulled into an underground carpark, beside a loading dock.
Watching her shut them down, especially when they were clearly so in need of it, should have made me happy. Instead, it filled me with dread. The political stakes in the Sinclair family were just too high, and I had no experience playing their game.
Realizing where we were, Elizabeth’s mood improved. “Oh, good I’ve been meaning to—” she began.
“At this hour? It’s going to be mayhem,” interrupted Nicole.
“I asked them to close early,” said Alida, confusing me as she stepped out of the car. “But you two can wait here. This isn’t for you,” she added.
She was already gliding across white carpet that had been rolled out across the concrete. I got out after her, managing to refrain myself from pulling a face at Nicole and Elizabeth. Antagonizing them further seemed idiotic.
A man in a dark, double-breasted overcoat, bowler hat and a bright yellow tie was waiting to greet us. He stood beside a plaque that read: Selfridge & Co.
“Good evening Mrs. Sinclair-Dubois,” he said.
He opened double doors to reveal an art-deco elevator, adorned with bronze and cast-iron figures representing each sign of the zodiac. I was mesmerized.
“Marvelous, isn’t it?” she said, stepping in. “They put the other ones they had in the Museum of London. But they kept this one, secretly. For special customers.”
We traveled three levels up, arriving to the bright lights of a department store floor.
An intense woman in a tight black bodysuit and leather skirt emerged in the hallway. Her face lit up in fake delight.
“Mrs. Sinclair-Dubois,” she said. “A pleasure as always.”
Stepping out onto the white marble tiles, I could see every high-end designer imaginable. Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Dior…
“We have your room ready, but would you care to browse the floor?”
“I trust what you’ve pulled will be sufficient,” said Alida striding forward.
The entire level was deserted, except for a few employees, each patiently stationed within their respective brand areas. We veered off the main floor into a room decorated in monochromatic blue, its carpet so plush and heavy beneath my shoes that I was certain it was more expensive than everything I owned. It felt like stepping into another world, one where money changed the rules. Though I was fairly certain that shutting down a department store in one of the busiest cities in the world was an extravagance reserved for the ultra-elite.
Alida disappeared behind a door, while an extremely chiseled guy in a black suit offered me a drink from a silver tray.
“Beverage?” he asked, somehow reminding me of Dylan.
A twinge of sadness that felt like regret spasmed in my gut. Had I been clinically stupid to dismiss the boy who carried my luggage, so I could chase after the one who ghosted me?
“I’m good,” I finally replied to the guy, who was still staring at me. “Thank you.”
“Eva!” Alida called out from the other side of the wall. “Where are you?”
I followed the sound of her voice to another room, where luxurious whites and golds met beveled mirrors and parquet wood floors. She was standing beside a rack that had twenty or so dresses hung on it.
“Well, come on,” she said. “Start seeing what fits. You can take anything you want. Anything. Everything.” She was holding a black dress out at me.
At what price, I wanted to ask. I didn’t want to be indebted to her, but I also didn’t want to be the only one at the dinner in jeans.
Reluctantly, I took the dress out of her hands and walked behind a curtain to change. As soon as I knew she couldn’t see me, I checked the price tag and almost choked: £9,295.
I held it away from myself as if it were a grenade about to explode. Petrified I was going to break it and have to buy it.
“Is it on?” Alida called out.
“Not… yet.”
As I went to walk out to give it back, I remembered how she’d acted toward Nicole and Elizabeth in the car. Alida was the type of person who expected to get her own way. It seemed wiser to comply now so I could use her trust when I needed it.
“Okay, I’m putting it on but you can’t buy this one because—” I said, stepping out.
“Valentino,” she said. “Beautiful.”
“It’s too expensive.”
“Does it fit?”
“Sure,” I said. “But that’s not the—”
“Perfect. We’ll take it,” she said to the woman who was hanging on her every word. “Next!” she called out to me.
“Woah. Wait a second,” I said. “No. This is too much. I can’t let you.” My plan to comply was going completely out the window.
“Eva, these are just gifts. Accept them as such.”
“With all respect, I highly doubt that.”
“I’ll have Vivian write up a letter for you. The clothes will be yours free and clear.”
I took a breath, thinking it over. “If you really want to give me something, give me honesty. That would mean more to me than any piece of clothing,” I said, trying to give her what I was asking for.
She looked conflicted, as if the truth wasn’t something she was prepared to negotiate with.
“If I do, then will you let me spoil you? You are, after all—”
“Let’s see how good the honesty is first,” I said, skeptical. “But you have my word, I’ll try on at least… two more dresses.”
She turned to the woman helping us. “Let’s also pick her out some ready-to-wear options. Saint Laurent, Chloé, Burberry… well, you know, and pack them into a nice suitcase for her.”
The woman disappeared so quickly that I didn't have time to stop her.
Alida turned back to me. “I’d like to see the Chanel next,” she said with a cheeky grin.
“And I’d like to know what Nicole was referring to in the car when she said ‘both sides’ of the family.”
I could see her bristle but I didn’t care.
She pointed to the curtain and I obliged.
“My sister Katalin, my brother Alexander, and I are the last of the Dubois family. A very, very old bloodline whose lineage spans several nobilities throughout Europe. Terence, and his brother Liam, inherited their grandfather’s company Atlantic Mining and Minerals in the seventies when it was worth next to nothing. They were able to turn it into what it is today.”
“So you brought the status, and he brought the money?” I asked, stepping into the dress. The cut of it I could get behind—floor length, long sleeve, high neckline. If it didn’t have a metallic floral appliqué all over it, I might have actually felt comfortable wearing it.
“We’ve been fortunate to bring many things to each other’s lives,” she said. “The fact that we were able to help both of our families in the process was a bonus. For them, mostly.”
I walked out to show her the dress.
She stopped speaking, staring at me as though I’d just turned into a swan.
“Breathtaking,” she said. “Just breathtaking.”
She made me try on a few more dresses, while alluding to friction between Terence, who chairs the company’s board, and his brother Liam. Nicole’s father.
As we wrapped up, Alida confidently walked towards the elevator. “Have everything sent to the house,” she said to no-one, knowing it would still get done.
Attempting to please her, I told her I’d wear one of the dresses, but accepting the other clothes was out of the question. The fear of being blindsided by owing them something was just too great.
“Is it money you don’t trust?” she asked as we descended floors. “Or just me?”
“A little column A, a little column B,” I said. “You haven’t earned my trust, and I haven’t earned your money.”
“You earned it by being born,” she stated factually. “Tell me, is there really such glory in refusing a reward when given it? Don’t cut your nose off to spite your face, dear,” she said. “Especially when you have a such a beautiful face.”
We were back at her house within minutes, pulling through the gates into the circular driveway. Nicole and Elizabeth, who were in “desperate need of a cocktail,” ascended into the house without so much as a glance behind them.
“I’ve sent someone to your room to help you get ready. Top of the stairs to the left.”
“My room?” I asked, defensive.
“It was your mother’s,” she replied. “I figured you’d like it best. You’re obviously welcome to stay the night.”
“I have to be back. A friend’s waiting on me,” I lied, again. It was becoming a reflex when I didn’t want to commit to a situation, and I wasn’t mad at it.
As we walked through the entrance, I could hear voices out in the back garden. It must have been where the party was because I couldn’t see anyone through the foyer.
“I have to greet the guests,” said Alida. “And give them my apologies for being late. You’ll come down when you’re ready?” she asked and told me.
“Sure,” I said, taking a few steps up the staircase.
“Eva, you’re going to feel beautiful,” she called back. “Trust me!”
“I thought we already established, I don’t.”
“You will, dear!” She winked, disappearing down the hall. “Soon enough, you will!”
Seventeen
I Wanna Be Adored
My mother’s room was unlike any in the house, as if it didn't belong. Untouched by the outside world, it was a time capsule of her life. As though when she left, the door had stayed shut forever.
Flicking on the lights, a messy tapestry of photos caught my eye. Pinned directly into wooden panels that took up the far side of the room, their presence stood out as a defiant act of protest.
They showed a different side to Edith than the one displayed in Alida’s photographs. Relaxed and happy, she looked like someone who didn’t care what people thought; her clothing so baggy, it almost swallowed her whole. Most of all, she looked fun. Like someone I would’ve been friends with.
“Knock knock,” sang out a man from behind me.
I turned to take in his artificially frozen face. His voice, the only part of him that retained any animation.
A petite woman with red, curly hair trailed him.
“I’m Oscar, this is Ange,” he said hurriedly through pursed lips. “She’ll get your outfit ready while I do your hair and makeup.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m more than capable of putting on—”
The woman was already holding a dress up against me. “I’ll need to see this on so I can pin it. We’ll need to alter it a titch,” she said, or at least that’s what I thought she said. Her accent was so strong I needed subtitles.
‘Uh, that’s not… no,” I said. “That isn’t the dress I chose.”
The gown was adorned with shimmering clear crystals that covered every inch. Cascading to the floor, its excessive weight and flashy design were exactly why I’d told Alida to put it back—it didn’t seek attention, it screamed for it.
“This is the only dress we have,” she said. Looking up, petrified. “Is this not the dress?”
“No,” I said, trying to stand my ground, while also reminding myself that she was just doing her job. “No, thank you.”
“It’s a beautiful dress,” said Oscar, who already had my hair in a pony and was combing the ends.
I pulled it out of his hands.
“Yes, I can see that, but it’s not really my style,” I said as politely as possible. “Are you able to ask Alida where the other dresses are?”
“She’s out at the party,” he replied. “With all the other guests.” He looked down at his clothes, pulling on his sweatshirt. “I can’t go out there and interrupt her, wearing this.”
I looked at my own clothes. I knew the feeling.
“Everyone’s very dressed up. There’s dignitaries down there,” said Ange, her accent getting thicker by the minute as though her anxiety was pushing her into a different dialect.
“Look out the window at what they’re wearing. This dress is perfect. Honestly,” he added, looking hopeful he might persuade me.
