The Tyler Factor
By Lumendea
Chapter Twenty-Six: Life Not Lived: Awake
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of the spinoff material and I gain no income off of this story, just the satisfaction of playing with the characters.
….
The sunlight streaming in through the windows started to wake Rose up even before the soft beeping of the alarm clock by her bed started. With a soft groan, she rolled over and tapped the off button at the side of the clock. She lingered in bed for a few more minutes, staring up at the soft rose coloured fabric of her canopy.
"Maybe it's time for a colour change," she murmured softly. "Red might be nice, a nice light red or is that too close to pink?" she asked out loud. She turned her head and looked towards the large window where sunlight was creeping in between the long white curtains. It would be warm enough to leave the window open soon during the night and get rid of the last stuffiness of winter.
Rose sighed softly and told herself to get up to no avail. There was a lingering sense of a weird dream in her mind. She'd been having it or at least she thought she'd been having it for a long time, but now there was a growing sense of…. Rose wasn't sure and sighed again. It was just a dream, no sense getting all worked up over it.
She shrugged to herself and sat up, pushing back the thick rose coloured duvet that her mother had given her a few years ago. Her feet hit the lush cream carpet and Rose stumbled over to her vanity. She held off looking in the mirror for a moment, grabbed her brush and closed her eyes and she gently began to work out the worst of the sleep knots. When she was done, Rose grabbed her dressing gown and went through a white door on the other side of the room.
Her ensuite bathroom gleamed in the soft light coming through the translucent glass windows, but Rose barely noticed. She turned on the hot water for her shower and finally looked at her reflection in the massive wall mirror that filled half of the pale blue wall. Her hair was still a little matted in spots and she had marks around her eyes from not getting all her makeup off the night before. Grumbling, Rose climbed into the shower and let the hot water finish waking her up and began mentally taking a tally of what was on her agenda for the day.
When she came out of the toilet, scrubbed clean with only slightly damp hair after spending some time with the hair dryer, Rose walked into her massive closet. She lingered for a few minutes before she selected her outfit for the day, settling on dark jeans and a dressy top. Once she was dressed, she sat down at the vanity and did up her makeup, carefully applying her eyeliner and lip gloss. With a smile of satisfaction, Rose stood up and combed out her quickly drying hair.
She glanced over at the photo calendar that hung over the small desk tucked back in the corner next to a tall bookshelf. It was 25 March 2005, and Rose once again had the odd feeling that she was forgetting something. But there was nothing written on the calendar. She looked around the room, eyeing the violin case propped up against the desk and the sheet music scattering across the desktop around her laptop. Nothing came to mind. Picking up her phone, Rose checked her digital calendar, but again there was nothing.
Stepping out the door, Rose glanced down the long hallway, the wooden floor mostly covered by a long red runner down the entire length of the hallway. Already the staff were at work, dusting off the nearby hall table and the frames of the paintings. Rose stopped by one of them, they were nice enough she supposed, hung with expert lighting, but her mother had only gotten them because they were fashionable. Rose didn't think anyone in the family actually liked the modern art pieces.
"Your father is already downstairs Miss Tyler," one of the maids informed with a smile. "Have a good day."
"Thank you, Rebecca, you too," Rose replied with a wide smile, heading for the staircase.
The staircase was the centrepiece of the house, perfectly designed for grand entrances at the social functions that were held here, something her mother loved. Rose glanced around before she sat on the bannister and slowly slid down the sloping arm of the staircase. It was a brief rush that ended with her nearly falling on her face at the bottom. She caught herself and grabbed onto the bannister while she overcame the rush of dizziness before moving on.
Walking into the dining room had always made Rose feel very small and dirty, but her mother insisted on using the formal dining room. The only times Rose ate at the large kitchen table were when she and her father slipped down in the middle of the night for snacks or when her mother was ill. The room was massive with a huge long table with white marble flooring and white walls with a few landscapes hanging on them. Several chandeliers hung over the table giving the place its illumination and glittering in each other's light.
Sitting at the head of the table with an open newspaper obscuring half of his face as a man dressed in a tailor black suit. As Rose strode over to join him, a small petite woman hurried out from the open door connecting the kitchen to the dining room with two steaming plates. She set one in front of the man who began to fold up his newspaper and the other in front of Rose. As he set his paper aside, the man looked at the maid. "Nothing for my wife?"
"She wasn't feeling up to breakfast this morning Mr Tyler," the maid apologised. "We'll have something ready for her once she is up."
"Very well," he sighed, nodding to dismiss the maid. Then he turned to Rose and smiled. "Morning sweetheart."
"Morning Daddy," Rose greeted with a smile of her own as she surveyed her own plate. It wasn't a traditional English breakfast like she'd had yesterday. Instead, they had hotcakes and a side of blueberries. "How did you sleep?"
"Fine," he answered shortly and Rose grimaced. She glanced around to make sure they were alone. "Did you and Mum fight again?"
Pete Tyler sighed but nodded. "I'm afraid so, I don't think I even did anything this time."
"Mum's just been… on edge lately," Rose offered weakly.
Her father gave her a soft look but shook his head. "Maybe honey, but I've alerted the staff to move my things to another room."
"Oh…are you two going to…" she couldn't bring herself to ask the question.
"No, not yet at least," he assured her, reaching out and putting his hand over hers. "I'm hoping some space will help. With me home more now, we've been tripping over each other all the time."
Rose knew that the problems had been going on much longer than that, but it was clear that her father didn't want to talk about. Instead, she just gave him a supportive smile and turned her attention to eating Sophia's amazing hotcakes.
"Any plans for the day?" her father asked her with a smile. "You won't be on break forever you know."
"I know," Rose answered with a nod. "It's weird, but I miss school. The routine, the work and seeing everyone."
"You've never been a social butterfly like your mother," her Dad observed with a laugh. "You're too much like me, you want to be busy and get things done."
"I don't know how mum stays home all the time."
"She doesn't," her father chuckled before sighing, "Her credit cards prove that."
They made small talk, Rose asking her father about the big news stories and how things were at work. Only last week, he'd had let go one of the vice presidents due to employee complaints mounting up against him. There wasn't anything so impressive this week, but her father was clearly distracted. Frowning, Rose pushed around the remains of her hotcakes and tried to think of how to cheer him up.
"I'm alright sweetheart," her Dad said suddenly, giving her a warm smile. "A bit distracted, but you shouldn't worry."
"You worry about me, Daddy," Rose reminded him with a small smile.
"You're my baby girl," her Dad replied. "That's my job, to look after my girls." He pushed his plate back and stood up, smoothing out his dark suit. Leaning forward, he kissed Rose's head gently and whispered, "I love you Rose, have a good day." Without another word, he walked out of the door, his footsteps echoing on the floor slightly.
Rose lingered in the dining room for a few more minutes, finishing up her breakfast before she got out of the staff's way. She stuck her head into the kitchen to shout her thanks to Sophia for breakfast. Uncertain of what to do with herself, Rose wandered the ground floor of the mansion, glancing into the parlour where her mother entertained guests, the small gallery with the major parts of the art collection and the library that pretty much no one else ever used. She walked into the music room that originally had been just for show until Rose had shown some musical talent at the age of six. Since then, her mum had been determined to have a properly cultured daughter.
Walking over to the black grand piano, Rose moved around it in a circle, running her fingers gently over the smooth painted wood. Sitting down on the bench, Rose pushed her hair over her shoulders and sat up straight. Her fingers brushed over the smooth and cool keys, but she didn't press any of them yet. She tilted her head and considered the black key for a moment before pressing one of them down. The low and deep note filled the space and echoed perfectly. Still not really playing anything, Rose pressed another key and then another. The familiar tones were comforting, but Rose was still at a loss for the odd sense of melancholy hanging over her. One of the older maids walked into the room, nodding to Rose and gently began to dust the cabinets and windowsills. Rose watched her for a few moments before shaking her head, turning her attention back to the piano.
Resting her fingers on the keys, she took in a slow breath, placed her foot on the pedal and began to play. She started with Mozart, a slow piano sonata that she thought fit her present state. The music filled the room, precise with every note in place and in the perfect rhythm. But it didn't feel right and Rose changed songs, shifting into Beethoven's fifth. That inspired no change in her mood and she settled on playing the chorus from Don't Stop Believing. It made her feel a tiny bit better, but then with a huff of frustration, Rose pressed down three keys at one and pulled her hand back.
"Are you alright miss?" the maid asked warmly. "You don't seem to be yourself today."
"I'm fine, I don't feel sick or anything, Janice," Rose assured her quickly, pulling her fingers off the piano keys. "Probably just bored."
Janice chuckled and shook her head. "Your break won't last forever Rose, you should go out and enjoy your time off. You'll be back at school in no time."
That was true enough, but Rose didn't think the problem was university or lack thereof. There was something else, a lingering sense of wanting something else or more, missing something. Which was foolish, she was the only child of a multimillionaire and his famous socialite wife, she'd grown up wealthy, well that wasn't totally true. Her father had made his fortune when she was two so she didn't know any other life.
"Oh are you sulking around the house?" her mum asked, walking into the room with a teasing smile.
Jackie Tyler was dressed in a stylish pantsuit with her long dyed blonde hair pulled back in a bun. Rose wondered if her mum was even going to leave the house today, she tended to dress up just because she could. Her mum moved over to the large gold ornate mirror on the wall that reflected sunlight into the room.
"Uh… no," Rose responded to the question slowly.
"Go into town and do some shopping," her mum said firmly as she studied her reflection in the mirror. "It'll help you feel better." Her mother's rough cockney accent reverberated around the room, it had softened over the years, but it was still distinct. A strong contrast to Rose's own more refined accent.
"Shopping isn't really my thing," Rose pointed out to her mother.
"So don't shop, go to a museum, you like that. Just get out of the house and stop acting so depressed. Honestly Rose when your father and I were your age we had nothing. We were just two poor kids and you were just around the corner." Jackie sighed and smiled softly. "If your father hadn't gotten so lucky with those little schemes of his then I can't imagine where we'd be today." Jackie laughed and turned to look at Rose properly. "Well, you wouldn't have attended all those fancy schools."
"Yes Mum," Rose replied, knowing there wasn't really anything else she was supposed to say. "Maybe going into town is a good idea."
"That's my girl, off you go then!"
Having no choice in the matter now, Rose returned to her room to grab her purse and headed for the garage, trying to be positive about going into London. The Tyler's impressive garage had several cars parked inside, all of them shining in the hanging lights. Rose eyed her mum's favourite, a beautiful classic Porsche that had only been driven three times. A real shame in Rose's book, but she wasn't brave enough to try to add a fourth. Instead, she climbed into her own little red car, hit the button and carefully backed out onto the drive. Her father was standing in the doorway of the house, his cup of coffee in one hand as he waved to her with the other. Grinning, Rose returned the wave quickly and shifted the car into drive, heading for London.