Chapter 5 Daphne
5 Daphne
As I sit down at my dresser to get ready for bed, I realize I haven’t checked my phone all day. I scroll through notification after notification and settle on opening all the unread messages from my Cousin Isabella.
Isabella
12:42 p.m.
Important question: what dress are you wearing tonight? I’m thinking of wearing my white Zimmerman dress, or is that too casual?
12:43 p.m.
Wait, I can’t wear white to an engagement party Okay, I’ll just wear the blue Alexander McQueen maxi with the silver Rene Caovillas.
7:15 p.m.
Cam seated us together, by the way, we’re on table three. For when you get here x
8:03 p.m.
Blue was definitely the right idea, Cam is the only one wearing white, ahaha
8:57 p.m.
Camilla’s asking where you are so I told her you’re running late, when do you think you’ll get here?
9:45 p.m.
Hello, Earth to Daphne… where are you? Did something happen?
10:03 p.m.
Oh my gosh, DAPHNE. Auntie Harriet’s WATERS JUST brOKE.
IN. THE. MIDDLE. OF. THE. SPEECHES.
Me
10:45 p.m.
STOP.
NO WAY!
Isabella
10:49 p.m.
Yeah, they left about twenty minutes ago. I don’t know how Uncle Jonathan stayed so calm, Grandma was a mess
Me
10:51 p.m.
Agh, I’m so annoyed I couldn’t be there I wanted to go tonight but Daddy cancelled last minute.
Isabella
10:55 p.m.
Wait, so you’re not coming at all? I didn’t know if you were planning some weird fashionably late thing lol.
Why did Uncle George cancel?
My fingers pause over the phone keypad, wondering what I should say. Do I tell her about Milosh? Do I tell her about the break-in at Daddy’s office? Even though Bella is my closest cousin, she’s terrible at keeping secrets, and my better judgement tells me this is too important to share. My phone vibrates again but I place it face down on my dresser, overwhelmed by the whole situation.
I unclip the clasp of the necklace that I’ve kept hidden under my clothes all day, and place the locket in the palm of my hand. The dull gold glimmers and the ornate filigree design shines as it catches the light. I instinctively open the locket, revealing faded pictures of me alone on one side, and me and my mother on the other.
Somehow over the years this has become my nightly routine: skincare, change my clothes, morbidly obsess over a piece of jewellery that once belonged to my mother, read a few chapters of my book, then go to bed.
I open one of the drawers in my dresser, revealing something close to a shrine made from her belongings and old family photographs.
Following my routine, I place the necklace in a gold dish next to all her other jewellery, and pick up her old perfume bottle. Lifting it to my nose, the fragrance takes me back to the time when she was still here. Her smell was always so distinctly her. Warm but fresh, clean but sweet.
She smelled like my memories. Cosy yet distant.
After she died, Amelia used to spray her perfume on my pillow at night to help me sleep. When it started to run out, I began searching for a replacement. I couldn’t find it, so I took a small sample to a perfumer to have it recreated but it never smelled the same. So for the last few years I’ve been rationing the remainder of her perfume, not wanting her memory to fade away with the scent.
I pick up my favourite picture of us as a family and smile weakly. It was my fifth birthday, and we were at my fancy-dress party. I was sitting at a table blowing out the candles on a cake that was almost as big as me, with my parents stood behind me. My mother was dressed as Princess Tiana, I was Sleeping Beauty and my father was Robin Hood, as if he’s not the very man Robin Hood would most likely be stealing from.
I hear a faint knock at my main bedroom door so I shut the drawer, quickly hiding the memories of my mother, and look at my watch. 11:04 p.m. Charlotte already turned down my bed an hour ago, so who in the world is knocking so late?
Turning the lock on the drawer, I walk out of my dressing room and open the main door to find my father standing there, looking exhausted as per usual, but smiling warmly at me nevertheless.
‘I just wanted to say goodnight, darling,’ he says, hovering in the doorway.
‘Yes, that’s definitely the only reason you’re here.’ I smile, opening the door wider to let him in.
‘I wanted to check in to see how you’re doing after today?’ He walks over and collapses onto the plump reading chair next to the window as I sit on the end of my bed to face him.
‘I’m doing fine, really.’
He raises an eyebrow.
‘It’ll just take some getting used to, that’s all,’ I try instead.
‘Think of him as another Henry around the house, just closer to you in age.’
‘And proximity,’ I mutter under my breath.
‘I know it’s not ideal but it has to be done. I’m sure I’m just worrying for nothing and this will blow over shortly,’ he reasons. ‘Hey, did Isabella tell you what happened tonight at the engagement party?’
‘Yeah, Auntie Harriet’s waters broke! How crazy is that?’
‘I told her to stay at home but of course no one wants to listen to me.’ He faux-sighs.
‘To be fair, Uncle Jonathan was probably saying the same thing.’ I shrug, laughing lightly.
‘I’m truly sorry you had to miss it, darling. But, hey, if it makes you feel better, I can buy one of those labour simulators and we can try it out on me and Henry to see who can last the longest?’
‘Oh my goodness, YES. Buy immediately.’
We both laugh, and I think it’s the first time I’ve seen my father relax in weeks. But it’s short-lived, as after a moment, his shoulders sag again and his face turns serious and a little sombre.
‘Daphne, honey. I’m sorry to ask…’ He pauses, evading my eyes. I wait for him to finish the question, tension crawling up my spine.
What now?
‘I was wondering if you’ve seen a necklace anywhere around the house?’
‘I have a lot of necklaces, Daddy. I need you to be a bit more specific,’ I prompt, knowing full well which necklace he’s referring to.
‘Of course, of course,’ he says, slowly becoming flustered. ‘It’s a gold necklace with a locket.’
‘Are you talking about Mother’s old locket?’ As the word ‘Mother’ comes out of my mouth, he flinches slightly.
‘Yes,’ he replies meekly. ‘That’s the one.’
‘Why? Is it lost? I didn’t realize it was valuable to you,’ I say curtly.
We never really talk about my mother any more, but not for lack of trying on my part. I had just turned nine when my father came into my room, sat on my bed, and emotionlessly relayed the news that my mother had drowned in the lake near the house. At that age, I understood the concept of death but I didn’t really grasp its consequences. It took me months to accept the fact my mother hadn’t just gone on a long work trip, she had left us for ever.
After that conversation, every time I brought her up Daddy would deliberately change the subject. Rather than helping us both confront our grief, my father pushed me into even more extracurricular hobbies and ensured I had extra swimming lessons, so I wouldn’t fear the water. I know everyone deals with grief in a different way but it hurts to only have Amelia to talk about her with. And I can’t even do that well because Amelia had only known my mother for a short while before she died. In an attempt to keep her memory alive, I’ve taken things of hers over the years: clothing, jewellery, photographs, which would explain the drawer. I wish I could talk freely about her to my father, but every time I try, he shuts me down. And every time he shuts me down, my resentment grows.
‘It is,’ he says, sensing my rising frustration. ‘Lost, I mean. I think.’
‘Oh, well that’s an awful shame.’
‘Uh, y-yes. Yes, it is.’ He shuffles in his seat, avoiding eye contact.
‘And when exactly did you realize it was lost?’
‘Um, w-well,’ my father stutters, at a loss for excuses. ‘You know, about two weeks ago.’ He finally looks into my eyes. ‘Around the time you got back from school.’ Now I know he’s lying.
When I was eleven, I was messing around in my father’s study while he was with the personal trainer in the basement. I was opening and closing all the drawers in his desk when I noticed that one drawer moved differently to the others, and had a much darker bottom.
I took all the contents out, opening it up fully to reveal a fake bottom hiding a bunch of documents and a small velvet box. Opening the box I saw my mother’s gold locket. Days, evenings, workouts, weddings, my mother would always be wearing that necklace. It unlocked a memory of her that I had long forgotten. I placed the necklace in my pocket, carefully returning everything else to how I found it, and I’ve kept it ever since.
‘Daddy, stop lying. It’s been missing for years, so why do you need it now, huh? Why the sudden interest in Mother’s belongings? Before this you couldn’t seem to run fast enough any time I so much as mentioned her, let alone asked to see her things.’
‘You have it? You have the necklace?’ He looks at me with a weird mixture of panic and relief. Completely ignoring everything I just said, of course.
‘Nope.’
‘Daphne, come on. Be reasonable. Just give me the necklace,’ he says, his temper rising.
I can’t help but laugh. ‘So, let me get this straight. You can’t share memories of my mother with me, or even talk about her, but it’s fine for you to come into my room and demand I give you something of hers, something that I don’t have ,’ I enunciate, ‘when you clearly couldn’t care less about it for the last six years?’
‘You did take her necklace, Daphne. That’s obviously how you know so much about it.’
‘You’re right. I took it.’ I shrug. ‘But I lost it two years ago.’
‘What? You lost it?’ His eyes widen in horror as his volume increases.
‘Those are indeed the words that came out of my mouth, yes.’
‘How?’
‘What?’
‘How did you lose it? Where did you lose it?’ he says, his expression starting to make me nervous.
‘Remember when I fell off the new horse at the stables? I was wearing it then and it landed in the mud. I looked but I couldn’t find it.’ Now that part was true, but what I failed to mention is that I did eventually find it after having a minor breakdown.
‘Oh, great,’ Daddy mumbles as he gets up and starts pacing the length of my room.
‘Daddy, what is so important about the necklace? Why are you so concerned about it?’
‘It’s not for you to worry about, Daphne.’
‘Well, clearly it is, if it’s causing you to stress and pace.’ I stand up to try and get him to look at me. ‘Daddy, please, just tell me wha—’
‘I SAID, DON’T WORRY!’ he roars in my face.
I recoil, stumbling back, hitting the back of my legs on the bed.
I’m shocked.
My father rarely loses his temper, least of all with me.
Yes, I did push him but I don’t understand why he won’t include me in anything. My mother, his work, whatever is causing him stress. I could help him, talk through everything with him, but he just won’t let me.
‘I think it’s time for you to leave,’ I whisper, my eyes starting to water.
‘Daphne, I—’
‘When you’re able to have an adult conversation,’ I interrupt, walking to the door, ‘and respect my boundaries enough to not shout in my face, you can come and talk to me. But for now I’d like you to leave.’
‘Daph—’
‘Goodnight, Father.’ I open the door and close my eyes, willing the tears not to fall until he’s out of the room. I wait until I hear him leave my room and retreat down the stairs. As soon as he’s gone, I open my eyes and the tears come, instantly blurring my vision. I go to close the door only to see Milosh Petrov across the hall.
Perfect timing, Mr Petrov. Just impeccable timing.
He’s holding a manilla folder and is about to enter his room when he sees me. He stops, momentarily pausing by his door.
Ugh, I can only imagine what he must be thinking right now. He’s probably appalled by my tears and lack of decorum. I know I would be if I could see myself. Not meeting his eyes, I shut the door, get into bed and proceed to cry myself to sleep.