Belgravia | Kathryn

Sunday, June 1, 1920
Early Afternoon
The Goring Hotel, Belgravia, London
♫

"Good afternoon, Ms. Laurence."

The doorman nodded his head as held open the door to The Goring Hotel, politely ushering Julia up the stone steps of the entrance and into the ostentatious foyer. Checkered black and white tiles met the gold plated accents of the wallpaper, shimmering with the light of the crystal chandelier overhead.

To the left, was the staircase leading to the upper floors, along with a small elevator, and just past those was the intimate dining room where Julia would be meeting her friend Eleanor Longe and her daughter Kathryn. Offering a small smile to the staff, Julia followed the valet through the glass doors of the dining room, to a table laid with a white tablecloth, fresh flowers and dining ware already set out.

"Ellie," Julia said brightly, setting her bag down next to her chair and leaning over to offer her friend a polite cheek-kiss. "You're looking beautiful today," she said genuinely, before her eyes cast over to Kathryn sitting prettily in her chair. It was still remarkable to Julia how much Kathryn and Benji looked alike, even as her boy was losing so many of his childish features. Those eyes and mouths. She wondered, briefly, if Kathryn smiled in the same way Benji did, a little crook from the corner of her mouth first before it spread across her features.

"Hello again, Kathryn," Julia said, finally settling into her chair. "I'm so sorry we haven't been able to catch up sooner," she said, busying herself with her napkin, laying it across her lap, and nodding when the server brought over a bottle of white wine. "Between work and...everything else." She gave a little sigh, but smiled through as her eyes caught Ellie's again.

"How have you been, mon amie? Tell me everything."

"Don't slouch."

Her mother's rebuke caused the muscles in her back to tighten until the fabric of her pale mint green, tea-length dress pressed against the rougher covering of the chair's cushioned backing. The little girl never so much as flinched when Eleaner reached over to smooth down a few strands of blonde hair that had fallen loose from the bun tied tightly with a bow at the back of her head.

The woman rattled off a list of instructions while she fussed, expelling the greater sum of anxiety on the 8-year-old's appearance.

"You must remember to smile--the way I've taught you, gentle at the corners. Welcoming. You must exude sincerity. It's important--"

"Ellie."

Her "mother's" words were cut off by the other woman's appearance. Julia Al-Azma. No. Her mother had spent all dinner speaking about a divorce and a name change a few months back. She was...

"You're looking beautiful today."

Kathryn wracked her brain, sorting through the myriad of names that had been spoken across the dinner table each night they sat down as a 'family'. They hadn't done that in nearly three weeks. Most nights, it was the blonde little girl sat with portions of entrees set before her, the ticking of the clock her only company. Blue eyes travelled along the woman's frame, taking in the way she was so well put together.

Benny's mother.

But no Benny. A brief sweep of the room didn't see him entering with her. There was a prick of something uncomfortable in her chest at the realisation. Disappointment? Sadness? She couldn't say. The sensation appeared only as a clench or tug, giving away none of its intent.

Next to her, Ellie glowed from the woman's compliments, soaking them up like a plant that had been made to go without water after its owner's sudden disappearance.

"Sit, sit, we've so much to catch up on!" she encouraged, gesturing with a flourish to a chair across the table from them. Her 'mother' was enchanted, as she often was when she found herself in the company of women she thought her betters. Kathryn recognised the look of admiration in her eyes and the way envy tainted it. If she could, Eleanor Longe would become this woman with little more than an exhaled breath.

Julia spoke the same as the others. Always something they were busy doing. Always apologies she wasn't sure they truly meant. Kathryn listened in silence, never returning the woman's greeting even when her 'mother' squeezed painfully at her thigh beneath the table. Her lips remained pressed together in a thin, uncompromising line, her silence her shield in this uncomfortable exchange.

When no amount of pressure would pry her lips open, Ellie turned her attention to her friend instead.

"No need for apologies, love. I've been insanely busy myself." She had, though not for reasons Kathryn suspected she wanted to share. "I wish I could say I'm at my best, but," she reached for her glass once the waiter was done pouring, steeling herself with a sip of the fine wine. Ellie's lips twisted into a wry, rueful smile like a woman loath to admit her next words. "Well, I daresay my life's about to fall into shambles, but there's no need to begin with such heaviness. How are those darlings at Hogwarts? How is...Benji?"

It was a dance of sorts. Graceful, poised, elegance incarnate. A dance the woman had learned to do as a girl younger than Kathryn. Smile, grace, softness, delicateness. No music to lead the cadence or anticipate the tempo changes. Rather the dance lay all in instinct, in one's ability to improvise and make it look flawless and planned.

Such was the nature of aristocratic interactions. At Hogwarts and home, Julia could just be. Airs and performances typically weren't necessary unless one was laying the law down or firmly establishing their place within the social order.

With Eleanor, as with all of Julia's society friends, there was an expectation, not for her to come sweeping in as Julia, the librarian and museum curator, but as Lady Julia Laurence, the refined noblewoman from a powerful family. It wasn't that she couldn't be herself - for truly this was a very prominent version of herself that she'd never want to shake - rather she stepped more into the area she was truly comfortable. Into the arena she knew how to play and play well.

It was the same for all women in her circle - Ellie included. They all knew the game, all knew the stakes of every interaction. There was genuine care between Julia and her friends, but there was no mistaking the quiet structure beneath it. The unspoken rules, the choreography learned by heart. Every interaction was layered. Affection filtered through decorum, warmth expressed in measured tones and meaningful glances. It wasn’t dishonesty, but a mutual understanding that certain truths were better softened, certain sentiments better dressed in pearls. In this world, even sincerity knew how to curtsy.

"No need for apologies, love. I've been insanely busy myself."

Julia suppressed the wider smile that wanted to grace her tempered lips. It was so like Ellie to begin rambling when she was nervous - though Julia couldn't ignore the perplexity it caused her. They'd known one another for years, had countless lunches and teas together.

Julia took a sip from her wine glass, casting her eyes momentarily back to Kathryn, breaking the propriety for a moment with a little wink at the silent girl.

"Well, I daresay my life's about to fall into shambles, but there's no need to begin with such heaviness. How are those darlings at Hogwarts? How is...Benji?"

A beat. Julia lowered her glass, swirling the contents in it for a moment as she turned her gaze back to Ellie. Shambles, did she say? "My, my," Julia said softly as she set the glass down on the table, and turned in her chair to give Ellie her full attention. "It's not like you to drop into full dramatics." She studied her friend for a moment.

"We'll talk about Benji in a moment. What do you mean your life is in shambles? George - is he ill? Managed a bad business deal?" There were various scenarios that could lead to a woman in their position falling from grace and it normally always surrounded the husband. If a woman wasn't powerful or wealthy in her own right, all of that deferred to the men in their lives.

Julia was no different. Her true power lay in what James allowed her. It would be the same for all the women in her family. Edith. Amelia. Gretchen. Rosalie. Adira. Claire.

They were all the same. All destined to follow the same path, all with various outcomes depending on the men who took control of them.

The waiter stood, as unobtrusive a force as the blonde little girl in all her guarded reticence. It was a talent, a trait, a method of survival, she supposed, to be lost in the middle of a crowd and then to disappear even when there were so few to hide behind. He'd poured them wine, offering her sparkling apple juice in its place, and the pair remained in their little corners, watching the delicate dance of the aristocracy take form.

Julia was a woman of grace and refinement, the image she knew her 'mother' to strive for whenever they had company or set out into the world. It wasn't to say Eleanor Longe couldn't be such things when they were alone at the estate, but that Kathryn had been privy to a newer face the woman possessed, one that put into question many things she thought she'd known.

It made the images hard to reconcile. The polished, poised lady of grace with her hard-won approval and her pervasive chastisement at the slightest error, the figure she was meant to call mother without exception, who had molded her into her own stoic perfectionism...had fallen from grace.

Kathryn no longer knew what to think while she watched the pair of them, her brows creasing from the effort of her concentration.

Did Julia have such skeletons hiding in her closet? Was she equally teetering on the brink of ruin with no recourse, but capable of covering it all with little more than an airy smile?

The wink caught her off guard, startling the little girl as a shade of red rushed to her ears and cheeks. She hadn't meant to be caught staring. Dosed in chagrin, Kathryn reached for the glass of apple juice and stiffly took a sip, averting her gaze rather than engaging in whatever the woman had tried to start.

"My, my. It's not like you to drop into full dramatics."

On the contrary, it was her 'mother's' native tongue.

"We'll talk about Benji in a moment. What do you mean your life is in shambles? George - is he ill? Managed a bad business deal?"

Ellie took her time responding. Her 'mother' pointed first to the lobster bisque before turning her attention to the Waldorf salad with its poached chicken. She was stalling, ridding them of the waiter who stood in silent watch. Kathryn turned the page, knowing what she would point to but Eleanor never looked at her, ordering instead a dish of sole meunière. Fish. Again.

She hated fish.

Sullen, the little girl waited for Julia to place her order, then watched the man depart to see to it. Only then did her 'mother' lean forward onto the table, elbows placed delicately as she gave a light huff. She was fighting with herself, trying to force the words she knew needed to come. The struggle imprinted itself in the creasing of her forehead, something she would be appalled to witness outside of herself.

"It's...it's nothing like that," Ellie confessed, her eyes briefly washing over the small girl in her care. There was the briefest wobble of her chin before she steadied herself, turning blue eyes back to her lunch companion. Her voice lowered, though she worked to maintain Julia's gaze. "George is fine. He...we're getting a divorce. I'll...be moving back in with my parents for a while--just until I can get back on my feet. Won't take too long. You know women like us. Never...never down for too long." She smiled as if trying to comfort herself, but it fell woefully flat before dissolving into a scowl.

"But it's fine, really. It'll just be...different."

Ellie was quiet, busying herself with the menu, and Julia was polite enough to give her space until she was ready to spill it. Her eyes drifted across the dining room to the large windows that allowed in plenty of light, out to Victoria Square.

Large white townhomes towered over the historic hotel, beautiful in their architecture and ridiculously overpriced. It wasn't long ago she had looked at one, considering the area for her life's return to singlehood, instead choosing to remain at the estate and save the money for Benji's trust. He'd inherit plenty one day, but running and maintaining an estate was exorbitant, and every knut and pence counted.

How swiftly life had changed, multiple times, over the past two years.

"And for you, Ms. Laurence?"

Julia blinked, brought back to the lunch and company she was attending, offering the waiter a polite, apologetic smile. "The apricot-braised duck, please." When the waiter had retreated she turned her attention back to Ellie, following her gaze back to the little girl who hadn't so much as cracked the slightest expression across her blank little face.

For a moment, Julia wondered - had Kathryn always been so stoic? When Benji talked about her, he always gave the impression she had been a sweet and talkative little girl when he cared for her. Perhaps everything that had come after Benji's departure to Hogwarts had beaten it out of the child.

"It's...it's nothing like that,"

She held Eleanor's gaze, her face crinkling slightly in concern as she leaned forward to offer one of her hands to her friend's. She was struggling, her voice lowering even further amongst the quiet conversation peppered throughout the rest of the dining room.

A divorce. Julia's face fell, her lips parting slightly as her light-brown eyes widened. It was unheard of in their circles, despite how readily Julia had sought one for herself. Women in their positions didn't divorce; rather they smiled politely through whatever strife they found themselves in and played the part of the doting wife. Had...Ellie initiated it, or George? It made all the difference. Had George initiated it, Ellie would be ridiculed and questioned. Had she not been docile enough, agreeable enough, willing enough? What had she done wrong to earn his ire?

Had she initiated it, this all could go two ways. Either she'd be shunned for daring to step out of the life graciously arranged for her, or she'd be admired for her strength in leaving something that only made her miserable. Likely, it would be the former. Julia had no illusions that her circle of friends admired her decision - they were just too afraid to shun her based on the power her family held.

Ellie didn't have the same sort of backing behind her.

"Oh Ellie," Julia breathed, and she swallowed hard, moving her chair slightly closer to her friend's. "I'm so sorry." She was, genuinely. The road ahead for Ellie was a rough one and certainly she must be scared. Julia didn't want to pry, but she'd been invited for lunch for a reason. This had to be it. She glanced briefly back to Kathryn, before returning to Eleanor. "How can I help? Do you need a barrister? You know Leo will represent you. He'll ensure you and Kathryn are taken care of."

Her cousin was one of the top barristers in London, working high-profile Ministry cases and would certainly take on Eleanor's husband if Julia asked him to.

There was little more than an imperceptible twitch when Julia reached across the table to take hold of her "mother's" hand. The action, not meant for her and stemming from a place of genuine concern, sent phantom tingles along her own hands that were so carefully encased in silk. Beneath the table, her fingers twined around each other, trying in vain to dislodge the uncomfortable sensation that the visual trigger had provoked.

Not for the first time since they'd left the estate that afternoon, Kathryn had the sinking feeling that something was dreadfully amiss. It had begun with the disruption of their Sunday routine that went beyond the early warning she'd been given that they would be going out, and culminated with this emotionally adled lunch in which she had nothing to look forward to but dull platitudes and bland seafood that fit so summarily against the sterile backdrop of her existence.

The little girl supposed she should've been put off by the afternoon she was having, and on any other day, she would have sat in her silent displeasure. Today felt different. There was an uncomfortable knot that only seemed to tighten each time the woman shared more of her predicament.

Divorced. It was the first time Kathryn had heard her "mother" make mention of that word since that dreadful blow-up at dinner nearly a month ago. Both her parents had ridden high on the emotions that had swelled in the dining room that night. Eleanor Longe had been frantic, penitent, and unlike herself in every way. There had been many times when the woman, consumed by her own annoyance, had cracked her veneer to let seep through the raw frustration she felt at Kathryn's inability to conform, but never had she seen her like that.

George Longe was much like he'd always been, but there was a danger to his silence that night. The man had sat at his place at the head of the table with malice in his eyes. He hadn't looked at her, not once. His well-concealed ire had been for the woman who'd had, by his own words, 'too good a time in the garden' days earlier.

It hadn't looked like fun, not to Kathryn, but there hadn't been any convincing her "father" otherwise, no matter how much her "mother" had insisted.

Ellie smiled through her friend's apology, the action faint and unconvincing. Kathryn followed the movement of her hand as it wrapped around Julia's with a gentle squeeze as if she meant to steady herself against the chaos that hid behind such sure blue orbs.

"No. Thank you," the woman said, her back straightening automatically as she pulled her hand away. "George has been...very kind in what he'll let me have. A tidy little portion of his wealth--I'll have most of our bedroom. Merlin knows the man never cared for mauve." She rolled her eyes as if it might make her see it all as more frivolous than it really was, but the melancholy lurked, weighing down the airiness she tried to inject into her tone.

"You'd better believe I'll be having my father's gardener over before the end of the week to collect my hydrangeas and peonies. They'll look absolutely darling in my mother's garden until I can settle on a place for myself." Ellie sighed wistfully, a hand reaching out to once more stroke the little girl's hair. "Cotswolds, maybe. The country air might do me some good."

She was rambling again, wrapping herself in the whimsy of what could be, rather than staring down the barrel of what was.

"But Kathryn..."

The small blonde's expression rose in attention by the faintest degree at the sound of her name. Blue eyes rose to meet the woman, her mind still trying to comprehend what had been said. It made sense now. The elves had been packing up pieces of the estate all morning. It never occurred to her that they would be moving. Rather, Kathryn expected they would all live with the strain that had developed until it was nothing but the inconsequential buzz of a fly.

They'd ignored everything else well enough.

"My parents aren't very interested in taking care of..." Ellie paused, forcing herself to look down at the child she'd taken into her care. Her expression, stricken by guilt, threatened to crumple in on itself, but the woman remained the picture of hard-fought composure.

She hesitated, thinking better of what she had wanted to say. "It won't be possible. They," she laughed, short and dry, "They think I've brought enough embarrassment as is." The laughter died as quickly as it rose, her own shame at what she knew she meant to do sobering her. With that sobering came the quietening of her voice. "We'll be heading over to Hogsmeade after we get done here."

The air hung heavy with the implications of her words. Kathryn could tell they were important, but she lacked the larger context that wound around her fate.

When did they say they were going to Hogsmeade?

Julia was no stranger to the intricacies of navigating the world of powerful, serious, emotionless men. She had been raised by one, brought up from infancy to understand that her life was never truly her own and her agency only stretched as far as the most important man in her life allowed.

She had never been like Rosalie; not in the literal sense. They had similarities, both a bit dreamy as girls and idealistic. But where Rosalie only conformed when it was absolutely required, Julia had always been eager to please, willing to kneel before the name that bound her and do its bidding. Raised as the daughter of a duke, she had always known her place and thrived within it. The rules and boundaries placed upon her always kept her in line, helped her to understand and know her place intimately within the world she'd been born into.

The one time she'd stepped out of line, she'd received the harshest of punishments and was quickly brought to heel. It was what she was trying to save Rosalie from. What she'd try to save her nieces from.

What hopefully, Ellie was trying to save Kathryn from.

Ellie squeezed but quickly withdrew her hand and Julia reached for her glass of wine again, mulling over the idea that it was 'very kind' for George to throw a pitiful amount of money and some old bedroom furniture at his wife and child to quickly rid himself of them. Men had it so easy, didn't they? They could decide they were finished and that was that. No more wife, no more child, a quick little signature on a check and all was well.

Women were always left carrying the emotional and literal baggage of a failed relationship. George would have a pretty new wife within a year or so. And here was Ellie chattering about re-rooting peonies as thought that were the biggest challenge that laid ahead. Julia understood of course. It was better to smile through and make light of the situations than to dwell, but Merlin could anything not be cloaked in fifteen layers of emotional repression?

"But Kathryn..."

As the wine touched her lips, Julia stilled, her eyes following Ellie's hand to the little girl's hair, the wistful tone in the woman's voice not lost on her. What about Kathryn? She would be going to Ellie's parents' house. What more was there to say?

"It won't be possible. They think I've brought enough embarrassment as is."

The glass touched down on the table cloth with a bit more force than Julia intended, its contents sloshing haphazardly, threatening to spill over. She noticed none of it. Instead, her brown eyes flickered as they remained trained on Eleanor. Was her friend really implying what she thought she was? She was going to take this child from her home, from the only family she had and...

"We'll be heading over to Hogsmeade after we get done here."

Julia felt a fury raising in her chest, the only thing keeping her from raising her voice was the decorum and appearances that were required in a place like this. Instead, her voice lowered, not taking any pity on her friend that could so solemnly suggest what she was about to do.

"Eleanor, she's not a dog," Julia hissed, sitting back incredulously in her chair. "She isn't some mutt that you've decided is too much work, so you take her back to the pound. She's a child. Your child." Julia was a mother now - of an older child, yes and she certainly hadn't spent her entire life raising him. Merlin knew he'd be better behaved if she had, but she had made a commitment to that boy. As long as she lived, she would do everything in her power to protect, love and care for him in the way no one else ever had.

It was all she could do not to scold Ellie - but desperate times. "She didn't ask to be adopted. You chose that. It's your job as her mother to figure it out and take care of her. If that means," she lowered her voice further, "you're out on your ass, you do it and find a way to keep her with you."

Who wasn't a dog?

Kathryn's gaze fell to the glass of wine that continued to swish and swirl in the seconds after Julia had slammed it onto the table. It was the first real crack in the armour of propriety that had veiled them since they first seated themselves amongst the marble and fine porcelain lunchware. It was a variable in the dance that had thus far followed each step with great reverence.

"She didn't ask to be adopted. You chose that. It's your job as her mother to figure it out and take care of her."

Her?

A stabbing ache cut through her chest, a spike of adrenaline and something sinister creeping in at the realisation that the conversation centred on...her. The little girl sat in stunned, rather than reticent, silence, her mind retroactively grabbing at the pieces of the conversation needed to make the whole. While her own porcelain veneer never wavered, Kathryn could feel her mind fracturing in real time. She...she'd been good. Her governess had said she exceeded her expectations in her studies. Her dance instructor had praised her brisk improvement and precision with the choreography.

She never cried. She never fussed.

While the women continued their exchange, Kathryn began to slouch, sinking slowly, inch by inch, in a manner nearly unseen while the weight of her apparent failure bore down on her. The little girl's eyes clouded, blue oceans seeking to flood their shorelines, but her limbs were too numb for her to raise a hand to clear them. Her gaze settled on the empty plate before her while she tried to force herself to breathe. Her chest felt heavy, her lungs taking on the weight and texture of lead. Her muscles began to lock, trapping her in place like the marble decor of the restaurant.

Every fear she'd ever had shot back to the fore, caging her within her own rising anxiety.

Back to the chaos of the home. Sporadic meals, children who touched the few things she owned. Loud. Dirty. Aggressive. Benny wasn't there anymore and would never be there anymore. And her? She'd be cast out again, set adrift. Unwanted. Unnoticed. Unloved.

That was what she already was, wasn't it? She hadn't been good enough, and they were giving her back.

Food appeared before her as the waiter cut into the tension of the table to deliver their order. The man stiffly offered to refill their wine glasses, able to tell that he had walked in on words not meant for him. Ellie dismissed him with a tight but polite smile, thanking him for the meal before amiably seeing him off.

It wasn't until he man turned to walk away that any real emotion returned to her expression.

The woman had pinkened at the cheeks despite her attempts at composure. She picked up her own wine glass, swivelling it once while she drew for her armour. Unlike Kathryn, whose shoulders continued to cave inward, reducing her to an even smaller frame, Ellie broadened her shoulders, sitting straight-backed and nearly defiant in her defence.

"What would you have me do?" she questioned in a near-frantic whisper. "I have nowhere to go. I own nothing. My parents have already made it very clear they don't want her there. George doesn't want her there. What am I to do? Forsake my family to be saddled with her? I can't."

Ellie shook her head firmly as if the very thought were out of the question.

"It's...it's not as simple as you're trying to make it out to be. I've been given a choice--hardly a choice. She won't find any comfort remaining with me." If no one else, her parents would make sure of that.

She lowered her glass, reaching instead for her fork, stabbing away her agitation at the red grapes and parsley.

"I know it's not...ideal...but...there's nothing else I can do."

It didn't escape Julia's notice the way the little girl sunk into her chair, tears filling her eyes. She understood what it all meant, and it sent a hot white fury through Julia in a way she rarely felt. There was very little that could set the woman off in such a way, but when it came to children - especially those most vulnerable - it was a sense of injustice Julia didn't attempt to control.

Her mother having died at her birth, Julia had lacked any softness in her raising. She had grown up in the shadow of powerful men, trained to think and strategize like them, but behave like a docile and meek woman. Her father had impressed knowledge, calculation and manipulation upon her as young as five, and though he loved her and had a soft spot for her, there was no more forgiveness for her emotions than there were for her brothers.

In some ways, parental alienation walked the same line as abandonment. Her father was present until he left this earth, but his empathy and ability to nurture had died the same day her mother had. In many ways, Julia had to fend for herself in regards to emotional regulation and her place as a woman in a world ran by men.

Some of the children she came across were similar. They were born in a world that didn't want them, that didn't place any real value on them, and so they had to learn to find value in themselves.

Eleanor straightened, obviously offended by Julia's remarks and scolding. Appearances were everything, weren't they? If there was any shame in her friend's actions, they were all masked by defiance and desperation.

"I have nowhere to go. I own nothing. My parents have already made it very clear they don't want her there. George doesn't want her there. What am I to do? Forsake my family to be saddled with her? I can't."

Saddled with her. As though it were a burden. Julia's eyes remained trained softly on Kathryn, watching her carefully. The food had arrived, and it seemed they had all collectively lost their appetites at the same time.

"I know it's not...ideal...but...there's nothing else I can do."

Julia remained quiet for a moment. There was no sense in arguing with Ellie. It was obvious she had made up her mind. Her security and comfort trumped that of the child she was 'saddled' with. For the first time since she'd known her, Julia felt absolutely disgusted, though she chose to hide it - only for Kathryn's sake.

"She's coming home with me." There would be no argument. No back and forth. It was already settled in Julia's mind. Ellie could either handle this graciously or not, but Kathryn wasn't going back to the orphanage. Benji would never forgive her, and at the core of it, Julia would never forgive herself.

"You'll have all her belongings sent to the estate, along with her adoption paperwork." There was little else that needed to be said. From her purse, she pulled out her cheque book, and wrote out enough to cover the meal and ten more. She slid it to Ellie discreetly. "For lunch, and anything else you need to get you settled. With the understanding that you don't come back later trying to claim her. You understand?"

She stood from the table, leaving her plate of untouched duck, moving to the opposite side of the table. She crouched down in front of Kathryn, her eyes softening. She held out her hand, palm up, offering it gently, "Are you ready to come home, Kate?" She suspected the little girl hadn't heard her nickname in quite some time.

"Benji's waiting for you."

"She's coming home with me."

She'd barely heard the woman, the words hitting against a wall of static so chaotic that it made comprehension next to impossible. They were words. A sentence in a long, garbled line of sounds that her mind refused to process as the little girl continued to sink further and further beneath the unrelenting waves of panic, confusion...and shame. They whirled without direction, creating a torrent so disorienting that Kathryn began to feel as if the chair upon which she sat was falling away from her.

Both hands gripped the edges of her seat, the muscles in her arms growing taut and her fingers aching from how fiercely she squeezed the cushioning.

Belongings. She had belongings.

They...she...

Belongings...

Her chest hurt. Something stabbed at it over and over, accompanying each breath until she was reduced to shallower, swifter inhales. The recognition of her breakdown worsened it. A voice not unlike her "mother's" scolded her for losing control, for breaking the porcelain veneer to be anything but the picture of perfect composure.

There was a strange tension flowing through Eleanor as she watched the cheque slide across the table. The woman flushed with an unpleasant and unpalatable chagrin even as thin tendrils of relief tried to creep their way through her.

She had done what she thought was a good thing...yet she felt wretched.

It was what she'd wanted, what she'd hoped for when she took Kathryn to lunch with her that afternoon, but the realisation of her achievement wasn't enough to erase the bitter taste that accompanied Julia's polished scorn. It awakened the shame she'd spent weeks burying, stirring up the feelings that had ravaged her when George had similarly tossed a cheque at her, telling her it was all she was worth.

Eleanor sat stiffly in her chair, not reaching for the piece of paper, not even checking for its value. It was a further humiliation and a reminder of what little she could do for herself.

"Are you ready to come home, Kate?"

Unable to meet her company's gaze, it took her a moment longer to realise that Kathryn had fallen into her stubbornness again. Ellie sucked in a subtle but deep intake of air, breathing through her rising frustrations. Couldn't the little girl see this was her best chance at escape? She'd put her in her finest dress, had made her hair neat, and had invited the other woman along. All the little girl needed to do was take her hand and be free from this nightmare...this...this sinking ship with no real life boats. How could she sit there, wasting away the well-laid opportunity?

This wasn't the time. Ellie had put her dignity through too much, having this all arranged--taking the gamble on what Julia might do--for her to squander it.

"Benji's waiting for you."

Kathryn looked neither to the right nor to the left. From the corner of her eyes, she caught the hand extended to her, but every thought of reaching out to take it was met with further tightening in her chest. The only thing that steadied her, the only thing that kept her from crumbling inward, was the tight grip she maintained on the seat of her chair.

A hand nudged at her shoulder. It was gentle at first, but grew firm when met with resistance from her too-tight muscles.

"Kathryn...Kathryn..." she heard her moth--was she her mother anymore?

Eleanor Longe called to her, trying to pull her from the deep recesses of her mind, in which she'd escaped. The most the woman could accomplish was getting the little girl to her feet, and only after she had risen and taken hold of her by the shoulders to hoist her up.

Kathryn stood silent and shaking, uncertain what was expected of her anymore. Ellie's hand rested lightly on her head in a final, fleeting, nearly affectionate gesture before she withdrew suddenly and nudged her toward Julia.

"I need you to be brave and go with her. She'll take much better care of you than I suspect I ever did." There was melancholy in her admission, a gripping realisation that she had failed the little girl miserably and that this was the only chance of righting that wrong.

Slowly, one small, gloved hand reached out, limply resting in Julia's outstretched hand.