He gave me lessons to practice with a recorder, and then I went on to lunch with Nigel Whitehouse. Later that afternoon, I impressed Professor Marx with what I had mastered, thanks to Sheena. By the end of the afternoon, I felt more confident. Mrs. Pratt informed me that I was to have a priva

te dinner with Mrs. Brittany. Again, clothes were brought in for me.

“It’s all right for you to spend an hour or so with Mrs. Brittany’s granddaughter,” she added. I could see in her face and hear in her voice that she wasn’t happy about it. She told me exactly where to go in the east wing of the mansion.

I set out as soon as she left and followed the corridor past the stairway. There was something about this wing of the mansion that seemed more homey. The colors were far more subtle, the paintings smaller, with depictions of rural scenes, lakes, and beautiful valleys. There was one portrait of significant size. It was of a handsome man in what looked like garb worn by royalty, with epaulets on his shoulders and some medals under his breast pocket. He wore three jeweled rings and was captured with a soft smile. Has to be Mrs. Brittany’s husband, I thought, and turned the corner to knock on the first door on my right.

Sheena opened it instantly.

“Oh, it’s you. I was hoping it was you. Guess what? My grandmother said I could go horseback riding with you tomorrow when you take your first lesson. Come in. Come in,” she said, stepping back.

Her room wasn’t quite as large as mine, but it was far cozier. She had posters of her favorite movie stars and singers on the walls, and dolls on a shelf and one on the bed. As I gazed around, I thought it was more like the room of a young teenage girl. Her four-poster light maple bed was smaller than my bed and wasn’t as high. I saw a pile of CDs and a large pile of DVDs on a dresser, books on another, and many magazines. There was a built-in large-screen television on the wall across from her bed and what looked like a stack of audio equipment in a glass-framed closet beside it. In short, it had the look of a room for someone who was mainly a shut-in. I plopped onto the oversize chair to my right.

“You’re exhausted,” she declared with a wide smile.

“Yes. This is the first minute I’ve had to myself. Thanks for your help with the homework. Professor Marx was pleased.”

“Oh, we’ll do more tonight. After you have dinner with my grandmother, I mean. Yes, I know your schedule. I wanted to be there, too, but she says it’s part of your training. But,” she added, clapping her hands together, “we can have dinner tomorrow night without anyone else. She said we could even go out. Of course, she would choose the restaurant, but we’d go in her limousine. If I count our horseback ride together, it would be like spending the whole day with each other. Well, not really, I know. You’ll be busy until you go for your lesson, but still, it’s more time than I’ve spent with anyone this year. Or last year,” she added with a laugh. “Maybe this coming weekend, she’ll let us go to a movie. I don’t know what we should go see, but just going would be fun, wouldn’t it? And afterward, maybe we could go for pizza or something. Whatever you think is fine with me. My grandmother said she would let me accompany you and her when she takes you shopping next week. Of course, she’ll buy me things, too.”

It seemed she would talk incessantly, behaving like someone who was afraid of a moment of silence or any sort of disappointment.

“That all sounds great to me, and it’s news. I didn’t know I was to go shopping next week.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. It’s not a top government secret or anything. You’ve got to see this dress she bought me last week in London. I wasn’t there, but she brought it back. Don’t move.”

She stepped into her walk-in closet. I laughed to myself, thinking of how I was with the girls in my school when they started talking about all the things they had and all that their parents did for them. If they were looking to impress someone or make someone envious, they were always disappointed in me. On the contrary, I would invariably mock them or criticize what they were given and make them feel small and stupid. Most girls didn’t mention such things to me after a while.

However, I wasn’t being friendly and pleasant with Sheena simply because she was Mrs. Brittany’s granddaughter. I had never met someone Sheena’s age who seemed so innocent and pure, so vulnerable and delicate. There was a part of me that wished I were just like her. For sure, I would have gotten along much better with my father and my mother. Girls like Sheena needed a grandmother like Mrs. Brittany or a friend like me to watch over them. They wouldn’t recognize evil, envy, or just plain meanness when they confronted it.

After a few moments, she stepped out in her dress. I nearly gasped with surprise. Mrs. Brittany bought her this? It was a backless silver glitter dress with long fitted sleeves and strong shoulders, in a stretch fabric that hugged every curve. It was a good six inches above the knee, too. Where would she wear such a dress? I would have thought she would have found her a dress that was at least ankle-length for obvious reasons.

“Don’t you like it?” Sheena asked.

“I’m overwhelmed. You’re stunning in it,” I said. For the most part, she was, but the prosthetic leg added an incongruous element, making her look a little bizarre. I mean, she was sexy yet odd.

Why did Mrs. Brittany buy this for her? Was she trying to get her to forget about her leg?

“I haven’t worn it anywhere yet. Do you think I should wear it when we go out to dinner?”

“Absolutely.”

“You can borrow it anytime,” she said.

“Thanks.”

She turned in a circle and then laughed. “I wouldn’t put it on until now. I knew it would be all right to show it to you.”

“You could show it to anyone. Don’t worry about that.”

“Silly,” she said. “Of course, I would worry.” She looked down at her prosthetic leg.

“Anyone looking at you will be looking at the rest of you more. Believe me,” I said. “You have a better figure than I do.”

She widened her smile. “I have other dresses I never dared to wear. I’ll show them all to you, but not now,” she added. “That’s too boring.” She sat on her bed and faced me.

“It’s not boring.”

“No, no. I don’t want to waste precious time. I know you have to get ready for dinner with my grandmother, and I know how nervous you’ll be about it.”

Tags: V.C. Andrews The Forbidden Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net