The first time I met my uncle, I was six years old in a family holiday to Paris. I don't remember much of that trip, just hushed voices whispering through my uncle's house and echoing from the walls, singing a lullaby as I slept. The adults hadn't spoken much in front of me and my sisters, other than polite conversation about the food, or the sights to go and see. We went to Disbeyland one day, I remember that much, but nothing else.
And now I'm being waved off at the train station and I'm not entirely sure of the reasons why.
Back in Nice - where I used to live - my parents didn't tell me much, other than that they wanted me to go live with my uncle for a while, something about some family 'destiny' or something that didn't make any more sense than rocket science. Apparently, only I should go, to have training or something with my uncle for this big 'destiny' or whatever they called it.
It's not like I'm going to miss many people - my parents never liked having people over to our house, or me going to anyone else's house, so I was always a bit of a loner - but still, my sisters are three and five years younger and I don't know how it will be for them without me. We've always kind of stuck together, my sisters and me, whenever our parents had arguments and the girls got scared.
We were never the most well-liked family back home. The people in our old village would whisper about my mother, about Liu Chesca with the strange voice and the strange eyes and the quiet little way that she always got what she wanted. They'd whisper about me and my sisters, too, how we were shut off, strange little monstrous children with no respect for their brattish children. Yet I think, in a way, that they were scared. Of what we were, of how we were different to them in so many ways. Why we were there.
But none of that matters now. "It's a new life," my mother told me. "You'll be safe with your uncle in Paris, you'll be happy."
She didn't say anything about what would happen when I came back.
As the train leaves the station, my family waves to me, and I can see the tears shining in my youngest sister's eyes. Leisa, her name is, perfect for her doll-like blue eyes and her bouncy golden curls. She's the same as Rhiann, our other sister, or just abouts. Rhiann is the only one of us who actually gets a tan in the Summer.
Once they sweep out of sight, I pull out my phone, and plug in my earphones. It's only a couple of hours to Paris, so I should be fine for food by the time I meet my uncle Fu. Music blares in my ears all of a sudden, drowning out the voices of the people around me. There's a little boy across the aisle, throwing a bouncy ball at his sister, who looks like she's going to bit him in a second if their parents don't step in soon.
I pull a bit of my parents' chocolate out of my handbag, laying it on the table. A reminder, of what I'm leaving in Nice.
The train journey seems to flash by, and soon enough I'm in Paris, wheeling my suitcase and my handbag over to my smiling uncle Fu.
"Ah, Emilie," he greets me. "My, you've grown since I last saw you. How long has it been again, dear?"
"Nine years, Uncle Fu."
"Well then, I suppose it shouldn't come as a surprise that you have grown so much!" he beams. "Now, come on now, have you got all your things?"
"Yes, Uncle Fu."
"Splendid! Now, come on, just follow me."
And so I did, trailing through Paris until we arrived at my uncle's house, a rather shabby little building in the middle of a crowded street. 'Fu's Massages' says a sign above the door, painted in what might have once been gold paint. Uncle Fu pushes open the door, and I am at first greeted by the scent of mint tea, the scent dancing over me like a waltz, calm and cool. "Do you like it, Emilie?" Uncle Fu asks. "I could not remember if your parents said you liked tea, but I have plenty in the kitchen if you would like to share some with me."
"Of course, Uncle Fu," I say, aware of how my voice shakes. It's ridiculous to be so nervous around my uncle, I know that myself, yet I can't quite seem to stop my brain from screaming at me that this is all wrong. "That would be lovely."
"Wonderful! Now, come on through to the sitting room, and wait here while I make you a nice cup of tea."
I take a seat in an old armchair that looks kind of like something out of an antiques shop. The gold gilding on it is flaking away in places, and the seat's fabric is faded away until I can almost see through it. Personally, I can't quite see the appeal of furniture that's older than the queen of Britain, but then again my mother always said that Uncle Fu was a bit batty.
He brings two cups of tea into the room, both oozing with that minty smell that I love. Out the corner of my eye, I spy something that looks kind of like a bee flit past me, but bigger and green. I frown, but Uncle Fu is already handing me the tea, and I take it with a polite smile.
"So, Emilie," he says between sips. "How has your family been in Nice these past few years? I haven't heard much from your parents, other than to plan your stay here."
"We've been fine, yes," I say. "Rhiann's getting very tall now, and she's just started lower secondary, which she's pretty excited about. And Leisa's still tiny, she's almost finished at Primary school after this year, but she still looks young enough to be in nursery." He cracked a smile. "Mum and Dad are both doing fine, Dad's got a new job in some company that he's really enjoying."
"And you?"
"I'm okay, yeah. I'm doing well at school, and I really enjoy History. How have you been doing, Uncle Fu? My parents rarely speak about you."
"Oh, I'm just the same as always, Emilie. Just an old man doing massages, what more do you want me to say?"
I notice the green bee thing again, and I frown, but don't say anything. Instead, I just continue to sip my tea, watching Uncle Fu over the top of my cup.
"Would you like for me to show you your room now, Emilie?"
I nod, as he gets up from his chair, and I follow him up the stairs to a narrow landing. There are three doors along the corridor, a bathroom and two bedrooms as he tells me. Mine is the one at the end, and I push it open, expecting more ancient furnishings.
Instead, I'm surprised. There is a white desk pushed into a corner by the window, and a white wardrobe at the other side, doorknobs decorated a pale turquoise colour. My bed is much the same, as well as the table next to it and the lampshade. "I hope this is okay for you, Emilie," Uncle Fu says. "Your parents told me you like these colours."
"It's lovely, Uncle Fu," I assure him with a smile. "Thank you."
I'm not sure, but I think he is somewhat surprised when I rush to hug him. It takes a half second of uncertainty before he returns the gesture, and I grin to myself.
"Well, I'll leave you to get settled in, Emilie," he says, withdrawing to the hallway. "I'll call you down for dinner. Please let me know if you need anything."
"I will. Thank you, Uncle Fu."
He probably thinks I don't notice the green bee-thing hanging at his shoulder. But I do.