The two of them returned to London a week ago — without his mother. Only a week and his son moped, whined and pouted more than he played with toys or asked to go outside.
What would he be like in a month?
"Would you like some more milk?" Arthur said to the top of his son's blond head.
William shifted in his seat, said nothing.
Sighing, Arthur drank his coffee in the lonely silence; he forced his shoulders not to droop. William is the the spitting image of him. And if you believe his old governess's stories, pouts at breakfast in the same way he had at that age.
Arthur checked his watch.
"It's nearly time for school," he said. "Would you like it if I drove you this morning?"
Unbuckling the safety harness, Arthur helped him from the car. He held his hand in his and took small awkward steps to accommodate Williams' short legs and his sluggish pace.
Other parents hustled to the entrance, children in hand or buzzing like bees around their knees. At the big doors of the private nursery school, the frenetic energy slowed to an orderly lane where the stern woman oversaw the comings and goings of everyone, doling out kind, but sharp, instructions to parents and teachers alike.
Closer by, a noise attracted Arthur to the ground a few steps in front of him.
"Excuse me," he shouted up ahead.
The woman carrying an overstuffed bag over one shoulder turned and looked back at him, brushing her dark, curly hair out of her face. She happened to stop in a halo of sunlight that peeked through the clouds and the leafy tops of the trees. Arthur noticed the freckles covering her nose first, then her brown eyes.
"Ah, you dropped your phone."
He bent and picked it up. The mangled device suffered a nasty crack on the glass and the screen flickered in and out.
"It might be broken," he said and handed it to her.
"Brilliant. And I'm already late. When it rains, it pours."
He watched as she fiddled with the buttons on the side, pressed random combinations of keys, anything to quiet the splintered screen. Her daughter meanwhile patiently stood by her side, holding a tiny cat-face shaped bag in one hand, the other locked in a fruitless struggle to tame her fringe — in truth, she'd lost that battle a long time ago.
Pretty, she took after her mother in more than looks, he determined right then and there. She inherited the same curly hair, though hers was shorter and scooped into two ponytails while her mother's tumbled over her shoulders.
Arthur smiled to himself, then his gaze wandered up and landed on the woman's face. Flustered, he ducked his eyes, his face burning from a spontaneous blush.
"Thank you," she said. Arthur raised his head. "Sadly, it looks like it's beyond hope. I remember these things use to take a fall a lot better than this."
"True. Wish I could've kept it from breaking. A split second earlier and I might've been able to rescue you…it. Rescue it."
She smiled wider and said, "I suppose that's life."
She shrugged her petite shoulders and corralled her unruly hair.
"Is this your little one?"
"Yeah. Yes. This is William. William say hello."
Arthur wiggled his arm, but William just stared down at their feet.
"He doesn't talk very much, does he?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"This is Olivia."
"Hello," Olivia said. She extended her hand and he shook it, and Arthur smiled again.
"Hello, William." Olivia's eyes studied William from a reasonable distance until she turned her chin up to him and said, "Why is he so sad?"
"It's his first day here," Arthur said.
In a loving stroke, her mother smoothed her fringe back and told her, "You remember what your first day was like."
Olivia nodded.
"Promise me you'll be especially nice to William."
"Okay," she agreed, returning her full attentions to reining in her hair.
"We should probably get them inside."
"Yeah," Arthur said.
The four of them started towards the school together, but the herd closed in around them and Olivia and her mother were swallowed up and soon disappeared out of sight.
They pressed forward, eventually finding William's classroom where he also found Olivia in the middle of a circle of five or six boys and girls, proudly showing off the contents of her bag.
Arthur crouched down and said to William, "That little girl is in your classroom and she promised to be nice to you. Will you be nice to her for me?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Good boy."
William looked over the room then turned back to him and asked, "When will mommy come to see me?"
"Soon," Arthur told him. "I promise"
Arthur hugged him. He hovered by the doorway for a brief moment before he glanced at his watch and stalked off. Pulling out of the carpark, he called Vivian. Her phone rang once then went to voicemail.
"Vivian. It's Arthur." He paused for a long moment, pushed the air out of his chest in a long sigh and said, "We don't have to be at odds with each other. We both want what's best for William. And that has to be for us to be a family again. Vivian, please— "
A loud horn tore through the air before he could finish pleading. Arthur started and looked behind him at the impatient driver. He sped through the intersection, hanging up the phone.
Parents lie to children all the time. Sometimes it's to protect them from a painful situation and sometimes it's to stop themselves from confronting the truth.
Her car sputtered down the slippery street. She gripped the staring wheel and fixed her eyes to the road, angling the nose of the car over the thread marks already dug into the snow which came down heavier now than in the city.
"Can we sing Molly, Polly and Gus again, Mommy?" Olivia asked.
"Okay, but this time I'll go first."
Olivia's face lit up in the backseat.
On a very unassuming Saturday afternoon like this one, the invitation to William's birthday party came hand delivered in a crisp white envelope to her door. Gwen almost choked on her tea when her brother read the address out loud to her.
They sung Molly, Polly and Gus the rest of the way until they reached the gates. Gwen gawked at the mansion as they entered the circular driveway and she got out of the car. Less impressed by their surroundings, Olivia clung to William's gift, mumbling a verse from the song and kicking up lumps of snow.
She was surprised to see Arthur and William waiting for them at the top of the steps. Olivia pulled away and ran to them. She shoved William's gift into his hands and the two of them giggled to themselves.
"Can I open this one first, Daddy?" Gwen heard William asked when she stopped outside the door.
"I don't see the harm in that," Arthur said.
Arthur wore a suit that fit so well across his broad shoulders that it looked painted on and the dark gray color complimented his blue eyes. The sheer perfection stopped there however. His hair was tousled and those blues were bloodshot and puffy with overuse. Yet even in his obviously exhausted state, he looked regal.
Gwen felt for the furry collar on her coat, mentally criticizing her casual appearance.
"Guinevere." Her eyes darted up to his right away. She took in a hasty breath and shot him a crooked grin. "You don't mind if I call you Guinevere, do you?"
"No. No. Not at all."
He stepped aside and said, "Please. Come in."
She entered the house under a dome of inlaid dark wood. The panels extended down parts of the walls and in between them a clean white canvas of stone flanked by beautiful marble columns.
"Daddy, can I show Olivia my room now?"
"Would you mind?"
Gwen tore her eyes away and locked them on Arthur. "No. Not at all."
He grinned and said, "Go on then, but remember you have other guests to entertain."
William and Olivia headed for the stairs, holding hands. They chatted to each other and rushed across the landing then down the hall.
The children had grown close since October when they first met. Olivia had become very protective of the shier, quieter William and in his own way William did the same. But Gwen knew little about Arthur. She didn't even know his name for weeks after William's first day of school.
"Let me help you out of your coat."
"Oh," Gwen said.
She turned her back to him and undid the buttons on her peacoat. Arthur's strong hands did the rest. He smiled then walked the coat over to a small closet. Gwen glanced down at her jeans and shook her hand.
"There's all sorts of activities waiting for them, so don't worry, they'll be occupied for hours."
"I can tell judging from all the noise."
He walked back to her, hands stuffed in his pocket.
"I was expecting to meet Mr. Vincent finally."
Gwen brought her hands to her chest, twisting the band on her left ring finger then stopped and crossed her arms. It was a common mistake though not as often anymore. She kept Lance's last name and refused to take off the ring.
She tucked a curl behind her ear and met his eyes. "Um, my husband died last spring in a car accident."
Arthur's face went stark white then bright red.
"Oh, I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," she told him. "It's my fault. I still wear my ring."
"That's completely understandable," he told her.
They both fell silent.
The wrinkles on Arthur's face deepened. He raked his fingers through his hair, stared above her to the second floor and whispered, "Oh."
Whatever sudden realization hit him in the moment, he kept to himself. When it seemed he'd forgotten she was there, Gwen cleared her throat.
"Perhaps a drink?"
"Oh, of course," he said.
He touched her on her back and ushered her to the center of the mansion where about thirty or so children of differing ages were playing; behind them outside, fat snowflakes fell over the sprawling estate. Music piped out of bulky speakers adding a chorus-like effect to the shrieks and laughter. Costumed actors dressed as magicians waved cards in front of a group of faces. And on a massive stage against one of the walls more adults in makeup and period clothes acted out stories with dragons, knights and long-haired princesses in distress.
"This way," Arthur said. "Olivia and Will will end up in here soon."
They continued down the broad corridor to another, smaller room. Here, the parents mingled in a more sophisticated setting. Stoic waiters flittered about with shiny silver platters in their hands. A piano player played next to the bar and the bar was covered in crystal glasses that sparkled beneath the soft chandelier light.
Gwen tugged on the bottom of her jumper, the you-are-out-of-place feeling returning in full force. She opened her mouth, but Arthur abandoned her by the door.
She took a hesitant step forward then another until she ended up by the large hearth and by herself. That didn't last long though.
"Hello. And you are?"
The perky blonde dissected her from head to toe.
"Ah, I'm Gwen."
"Gwen." She tilted her head. "I don't believe I know that name. I don't think Arthur's mentioned it. Ever."
"Well he wouldn't. My daughter and William are friends from school. I don't really know William's father that well."
Her smile faded, but the woman's eyes remained hard and searching.
"I'm sorry I didn't catch your—"
She stalked off without another word. Gwen scoffed. Before she could shake off the woman's rudeness, she was approached by another.
"You'll have to forgive Elena. She can be difficult in the company of strangers. I'm Mithian."
"Gwen. I'm sorry. I'm still a little rattled. My head is still spinning." Mithian rubbed her shoulder. Gwen got the sense she'd been transported to another world. "This is a lot more than I anticipated for a four year old's birthday party."
"But it's not just any four year old. It's a Pendragon. This is somewhat low key."
Mithian left her too, though she desperately wanted the company. Gwen marveled at the ease displayed by everyone else around her. She panned across the room and frowned. Gwen didn't recognize a single face. None of these people had children attending William and Olivia's school, but surely William had other friends there. Why were they the only ones invited?
She pushed aside all the confusion and sought out a waiter, finally getting her hands on a glass of water.
Bored, Gwen slipped away and returned to the ballroom where she sat in a quiet corner taking in the happy faces of the children. Olivia and William did everything together. Wherever she went he followed and Olivia chased after him when he decided to run away.
The music stopped and the actors pretending to be King and Queen went to the microphone on the stage and summoned William. They ordered everyone to come closer and applaud as William was seated on a throne big enough for a full sized king, made out of wood but painted in gold with a purple cushion in what looked like velvet.
Gwen panicked when she saw them wheel out an enormous cake. She went over to a young girl, the magician's assistant, and said, "Shouldn't the other parents be here for this?"
"That wasn't in the program we were given, but you can stay and watch."
"Program?" Gwen asked.
She nodded and carry on.
Gwen looked about her. Despite everything telling her to stay put, she stomped out into the hall and went back towards the front of the house.
"Excuse me," she said to an older man. He wore a formal black suit and didn't appear to be a member of the acting guild.
"Yes ma'am."
Gwen hesitated a moment. "Um. Is Mr. Pendragon not coming back to the party?"
"Mr. Pendragon is in his office, ma'am."
She balked.
"Where is his office?"
"Right this way, ma'am."
Arthur's office was situated near the entryway, but she must have overlooked it when she walked in. The man knocked and Arthur barked in response, permitting him to come inside. He stood behind an intimidating desk, leafing through a thick bundle of papers. On the desk, leather bound books, folders and more stacks of paper covered the entire surface, except the square accommodating his phone.
His scowl softened and he said, "Guinevere."
The man in the suit dismissed himself. Arthur placed his work down and came around the desk.
"Is anything the matter?"
"No." His eyes squinted, clearly signaling he was unsure of her presence. "They're cutting the cake. I thought you'd want to see William take his first bite."
He pivoted towards his desk then turned back to her.
"I'm very busy."
"But it's his birthday," she said in a harsher tone than she intended.
"He's my son, Mrs. Vincent. I'm well aware of when he was born. I was there."
All his coolness evaporated in the heat of his reply.
"Well, you're not there for him now."
"Who do you think you are?"
"I was just concerned—"
"No one asked you to be," he shouted.
All the air left her lungs. Her hands balled into fists, fingernails pricking the insides. She squeezed them tighter and the stink in her palms sent her feet flying. She stormed out. By the time she got back to the ballroom, all the children were seated at small tables eating cake, ice cream and showing off their toys.
Olivia had joined William on the stage.
They sat alone.
Both of them seemed happy.
I'll continue to update, but please review me please (*begging*). Anything would be 333.