Beautiful Freaks Read Free Page B

Easter table, an errand that provided relief for everybody concerned. Mama was fussing around the house in perfection-mode and doing a really good job of winding up all the household staff. She already threatened to fire the linen maid and beat the grounds-man’s boy for treading mud into the scullery. It was clear that being sent on flower duty was a way of removing me from the firing line.
    The day was full of cool sunlight. The soft cooing of the wood pigeons and the distant sound of a metal spade digging the hard earth made a natural duet and reminded me that the best patch of primroses were by the kitchen gardens.
    It would mean having to pass close to Rowan , but as we’d never spoken, it didn’t seem too much of a threat. I blushed at the thought of it. Just because we hadn’t had a conversation, it didn’t mean I hadn’t spent many hours watching him work from my bedroom window. Despite convincing myself the boy was arrogant and an idiot, there was something about seeing him at work that I found captivating.
    I skirted around the wall, planning to sneak up on the patch of primroses without being spotted. He was at the far end of the garden, turning over the salad beds, whilst singing loudly. I giggled and fell back behind the wall, cramming my hand over my mouth to try and stifle my laughter. When I’d calmed myself enough to risk another look, I poked my head around the corner to see Rowan’s grinning face less than a hand-stretch away.
    “Morning, B eautiful!”
    I let out a little cry of surprise, before burning with embarrassment and then anger. “Morning, Ugly!” I responded venomously.
    Rather than insulting him, he found it amusing, and a smug, satisfied smile flashed across his lips, followed by a wink.
    “Touché!” he teased.
    With nothing clever left to say, I shouted at him to, “Get lost! ” before picking up the hem of my skirts and running home to the safety of Mama.
    The flush of humiliation still burnt on my cheeks as I ran, but the anger I’d felt inexplicably turned into a smile . Suddenly everything seemed to shine, and by the time I fell through the front door, I was laughing like a fool.
    Mama greeted me from within the shades of the house, calling out , “Alicia, is that you?”
    “Yes, Mama,” I replied through ragged breath.
    I knew the sound of my strained speech would attract her attention . She disapproved of physical exertion ; thought it un-ladylike. Her starched , white apron preceded her by several inches. When she caught sight of me – my hand on my stomach, catching my breath, my cheeks red and blotchy – she tipped her head to her left and looked at me with something between puzzlement and judgement.
    “Whatever has happened?”
    “Nothing, Mama.” I looked away from her interrogating eyes and caught my reflection in the m irror. There was something different ; an enlarging of the eyes, a hardening of the bone structure, the painting of a blush, and a staining of the lips.
    Mama tutted, turned on her heel , and left me behind for the kitchen.
    “Mama?” I called after her , bewildered as to what crime I’d committed.
    She looked back over her shoulder and ordered, “Go and take a cold bath and change your dress. The guests will be here shortly and you look … excitable.”
    ‘ Excitable? ’ I shook my head, puzzled by her strange choice of word.
    Taking the stairs two at a time, still feeling as if I’d been injected by a sudden bu rst of energy, I headed towards my chamber. I gnoring Mama’s instructions to run the bath cold , I heated th e copper pans on the stove and poured hot water in until it steamed. With a final act of defiance, I added an excessive amount of rose oil – it was the smell of the gardens.
    I stepped in, indulging in the feelings of sunlight that glowed from within; luxuriating in new exotic images of smiles and hands, of eyes flashing with curiosity and invitation. A s I lay back , the oil turning my skin to silk and the heat of