"Alice. Alice!"

Alice Sutton looked up from her reading, scowling instantly. She shut the volume quickly, producing a fountain of dust. Then she waited, rough fingers unconsciously playing piano notes on her lap, revising her latest lesson. She did not have to wait long.

Maria Sutton, for all her anxiety, cut a startling figure. Quite unlike her daughter. Her pale, luminescent skin, her dark wavy hair, her piercing eyes. She lit up every room, and charmed her way into every heart. A beautiful, sensitive woman. A caring mother. And a perfect wife. Or, at least, she was. Thomas had passed away when Alice was twelve. Maria had gracefully met the challenge, taking up the mantle as head of the family. She saw Louisa and Alice through their schooling and into adulthood while juggling family finances and the running of the house.

And yet.

Alice was not quite the daughter anyone expected. Relatives, friends, complete strangers who were in awe of the family – they predicted the emergence of a bright, successful girl, as competent as Maria and Louisa. A true Sutton.

Alice was no such girl, and she knew it. She was intelligent and cunning, but took little interest in economics or the arts. She could not paint, would not cook, and did not have any inclination to study law or medicine. She was quiet and stubborn, temperamental and clumsy. She could not stand stifling politics, did not care to maintain relationships with people she despised, and she hated socialising. As much as Maria hated to admit it, Alice had slowly but surely become the black sheep of the family, a family which had only bred beauty and competence, success and panache. Even her looks were plain. Her face was ordinary, her dark brown eyes forever dull. Her hair was as dark as her mother's, but straight; neither thick nor thin. Her skin was pale, but slightly pasty. She may have been pretty, someone you would notice and instantly forget, or dismiss completely in an offhand manner. She was no beauty. She was just…Alice.

But Maria loved her just as much as she had loved Louisa. Alice had inherited that stubborn streak, the will, the strength, from Thomas - much as Alice would hate to admit it. Thomas had liked being master of his home, he was kind and gentle with the girls provided they were mild and submissive. It was not that he held women as weak – Maria believed, had they had a son, he would be treated much the same way. It was just that he enjoyed holding a position of power. And Maria had allowed it. For all his misgivings, she loved him. Not passionately, but in an affectionate sort of way. Louisa adored him. Alice…ah, Alice. She was always rebelling. She loved him, but she hated him. She fought with him, but she ran to him clamouring for stories. To this day Maria was never sure how Alice had chosen to remember him. Would she see the father she adored, or as the man who could've let her explore, could've let her grow, but chose not to? Alice was as bitter as she was strong, and she held her faith and guarded it, let it bloom. Which could be both good or bad, depending on what she was convinced of.

Today Maria knew she would have to face something. Standing at the doorway of the library, she crossed her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrow at a glowering Alice. "I haven't even said anything yet," she pointed out.

"You don't need to, mama. I'm not going." Before Maria could say anything, she added, "And no lunch. Please. This is important."

Maria sighed. "Please, Alice. Do this for me."

"Which, the reunion or the lunch?"

"Both. The first one, well, people will be asking after you, and then what will I say? Don't. Don't say I should say you're not well, because I've said that God knows how many times. People are starting to give me funny looks now. And yes, lunch. You can't starve yourself just because it's the Day of Atonement…you're an atheist!"

"You're not listening! I just want to see what it's like, mum. I have a couple of friends who do it, and I want to be able to discuss it with them. I'm not going to keep doing it. It'll help with my research paper."

"Skiving off food will help with your research paper? You're doing a degree in world history, not world religion."

"World history and culture. And I just want to know. I just…want to be able to talk about what it was like. Since you never let me skip a meal. Ever. Now I have a valid reason! It's for educational purposes. And look, you know no one wants me around at the reunion. And I don't want to go. They all hate me anyway."

"Enough, Alice. You know they don't hate you. Shut that mouth of yours, I spot a mosquito. I know what you're going to say, that you're not like Louisa. NO. You're not like Louisa. Shocker. They love you anyway. Some of them are old, some are young, younger than you. You know they wouldn't spite you. None of them are malicious people, dear. Don't use it as an excuse. Whether they're crabby or saccharine, I love them all. You do too. You just don't know how to communicate with them and this'll never happen if you don't try, Alice!"

"…Are you done? Look, I'm fond of them, but I hate going to these things. You know, most of the girls are prettier than I am. I feel awful."
"No one cares. Sure, people will admire and praise, but that's about it. You know most of these people, do you think any of them will be whispering behind your back? Anyway, I'll buy you a beautiful dress and you'll look just fine. Smile a little."

"I hate shopping. I don't mind dressing up, but I hate shopping."

"I know. I'll buy you the dress. You don't have to come. Yes, yes, I'll buy something in black. Trust you. No colour variation whatsoever. I swear Dracula would love your closet."

"Dracula doesn't have a history of wearing exclusively black. He might like red more."

"Whatever. So you're going then. Now can I interest you in some lunch?"

"Not at all."

"You go back to your reading then. I don't care what you do, I'm certainly not starving."

Alice had plucked the volume off the shelf again and was already scanning the pages. She did not raise her head nor lift her eyes, but said, "Good. I'm glad. But you may have competition because the dog's not starving either."

Maria's eyes widened and she whipped 'round and stumbled all the way to the dining room, her screams of 'LEO!' echoing through the halls.