Chapter Thirteen - Emma

I have no intention of Regina getting another wink of sleep in this house. I am going have my eyes on her all day long, and I will find concrete evidence against her.

I am enjoying my morning with my parents and our small family. Everyone is back on their usual self. Now I get to talk in way more detail, with no dogy signal getting in my way and with nobody interrupting me. We all talk and talk and talk until we've finished the pot of tea. It was the best morning once I've been here. The sky outside has lightened and become entirely orange and pink, and the robin's song is in full swing, and the wind has calmed down. The whole world feels peaceful and serene.

We all sat around the dining table, and we all got excited to eat leftover cakes and donuts for breakfast. That's when I told mom about the work I have done yesterday, setting up the table and the tablecloth. Mom was happy for me and thanked me. It was the best morning all around until …

Regina walks into the room.

I should have known the peace couldn't last long. What's that rhyme about red skies? Those dark orange streaks across the clouds were obviously a warning sign. Even the sky knows Regina is bad news.

I watch her as she comes striding across the room, a big fake smile plastered across her face. Henry is right behind her, calling out introductions from across the room. Granny stands up to greet them both. I remain seated. Watching.

She gives Granny a quick one-armed hug, calls her "ma'am." Gushes about how wonderful it is to know her and how incredible it is to spend Christmas here. After all that, she gives me a small, cursory smile. I return the favor without getting up. Everyone remains standing as they get on with their small talk.

"So," Granny asks after a few minutes, "how did you two lovebirds meet?"

"In a coffee shop," Henry asks, "we were introduced through friends, and I wasn't looking where I was going then boom!"

"He spilled his latte all over my suit!" Regina shakes her head and covers her face. "I was so embarrassed, more like pissed, but Henry was charming about it. We talked, and he offered to have my suit dry-cleaned; he asked if I'd reconsider going for dinner with him instead. And that was that. I've never been happier to have his coffee spilled."

Ugh, I've never been happier to have his coffee spilled?! That must be the rehearsed line if I've heard one. She used it word-for-word when she told this story towards the end of dinner last night. She is clearly proud of the adorable anecdote. Strange, because she told me that clumsiness irritates her. It's just another little thing that doesn't add up about her, like the love/hate, bull/shit thing she has going on with cheesy musicals and Christmas songs. I mean, she already proved herself a liar by claiming to have a favorite festive tune after telling me Christmas music makes her ears bleed, but to them, go with "Frosty the Snowman"?

"Yes, thank goodness for my spilled coffee," Henry says.

"What an introduction," Granny laughs, "I am sure it set the tone for many laughs to come. How long have you been together now?"

"Six months," Henry says.

"Five months," Regina says at the same time.

There's a brief silence, and then Regina laughs as she adores Henry, "has it really been six months already?" Henry laughs with her and kisses her on the cheek, then Regina continues, "Time flies. I guess I'm just having fun."

Hmmm. Could be that, yeah. Or it could be that she doesn't even care about Henry enough to remember their anniversary.

Henry doesn't seem fazed; he smiles and laughs with her, "speaking of fun," he chirps, "let's go and have that morning swim I promised you."

He pats a couple of white towels he has rolled up in one arm. There are also two robes slung over his shoulder. He and Regina are clearly all set for a morning in the spa. Sure enough, Regina's face has completely lit up. A genuine smile at last, with her eyes all crinkled at the corners.

It's infuriating that she has such a gorgeous smile when it's genuine.

Henry waves at me, "see you later, mom."

I won't have to be infuriated for long, I remind myself. I will be finding a way to get the truth out very soon and all that smile right off her face.

I have not managed to wipe the smile off Regina's face. She has actually been getting happier and more relaxed as the day has gone on, settling herself in and joining in with the festive fun and getting along swimmingly with everyone. All because I've failed to find any real proof that she's a horrible human being. I've also made zero progress with my family, because they've all been too far busy being enamored by her to give me a second glance. And, to top it all off, dinner was disgusting. The whole day has been a bust.

I was off a bad start from the jump. I obviously couldn't lurk around outside the sauna, creepily spying on Regina in her bikini, so I was forced to keep my eye off her for ages. Hours passed by the time she and Henry left the spa. At the exact moment that they emerged, Belle appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me by the elbow to ask me for help to look after the twins. Just while Henry was on a work call. She looked completely knackered and desperate, and she usually only looks knackered. I cast a longing look over my shoulder at Regina, and then followed Belle in the opposite direction.

Henry's work call went on for two hours. I wound up spending most of that time running in circles around the garden with the boys while Belle sat down on a bench and watched. I guess we did have some fun. The boys are good for a laugh if you're in the mood for high-energy hijinks. And I thought I'd get some props for babysitting my nephews. Eventually, Belle got off the bench and did some star jumps with the boys. A moment later, mom leaned out of the kitchen window.

"Oh, aren't you adorable," she cooed. "Belle, my darling, you're so hands-on! I don't know where you get the energy. Boys, isn't your mummy the best? And aren't you the best jumpers! You are all so wonderful!" Mom turned her head towards the bench, where I was taking a quick breather, "Oh, hello, love."

She ducked back inside. The warm smells of her baking drifted out of the still-open window, and Regina and the boys squealed with glee as they bounced around, and I dug my fingernails into my palms until it felt like my skin was splitting. My mistake was ever thinking I could fit in around here in the same way that Henry and Belle have. That, and not trimming my nails for a month.

Lunch wasn't any better. Granny was off having her second nap, so it was the same crowd as last night. We ate leftover pumpkin soup with cheese on toast on the side, and everyone made a big fuss over Regina between mouthfuls. They lavish praise on her business, her smart clothes, and her taste in lovely Nolan men. She brushed all the attention off like it was nothing, and she complimented mom's granary bread approximately one hundred and fifty-eight times. Besides that, obvious bit of suckuppery, she didn't give me anything to work with. I did catch her looking at her phone under the table a few times, but that's just bad manners, not grounds to accuse her of plotting to steal the family fortune. Still, if I checked my texts at lunch, I'd … Well, I would say I'd be given a good ticking-off, but that would require somebody noticing me in the first place. Fat chance of that. No one seemed to look my way for the entire meal yet again, except for when dad asked me to pass the salt, and even then, Henry got to it first.

I didn't bother trying to talk for the duration. I distracted myself instead with thoughts of what I'd get up if I were invisible.

After lunch, Regina helped mom clean up. I wanted to keep an eye on her and have a crack at impressing mom, but not enough to wash dishes. Afterward, Regina and Henry had disappeared upstairs.

I didn't do much for the rest of the afternoon. I helped dad get the fire going. Shared another pot of tea with Granny and Ruby. Watched the first half of Elf movie with the boys and everyone, then the second half of Elf on my own.

Regina and Henry came downstairs about half an hour before dinner and cuddled up together in front of the fire. They looked quite sweet. Relaxed and natural, sipping on hot chocolates and leafing through well-thumbed paperbacks. There was none of the stiff awkwardness I'd spotted from Regina on the night she arrived here. Just an aura of comfort and intimacy. It really pissed me off.

Dinner was more of the same and I hardly paid attention to any of it. A lot of chatter and none of it directed at me. Another work call for Henry. A mushroom casserole that tasted like sweaty old boot and Regina's compliments to the chef. She was perfect, as per. She seemed a tiny bit distracted at first, but she still didn't put a single foot wrong and did an excellent job at pretending to be delightful all through dinner, dessert and drinks in the hall.

And that's it. The day is over. Now I'm stuck in the kitchen with mom, who asked me for help before I could offer it, furiously drying the dishes she passes to me from the sink and cursing this day for ending before I could gather a single shred of new evidence against Regina Mills.

From where I am standing, even my old evidence is starting to look flimsy. It's just few overhead conversation that Henry was part of and so will not too scandalized to hear about as well as a general sense of bad vibes. I don't have anything solid against Regina, and without that I will never be able to convince Henry to chuck her out. I will also never get through my parents, and never be given a job at their business, but also never, ever taste this awful casserole ever again. I am undeniably the loser of the day, while Regina comes out on top, getting away with her nasty schemes yet again.

"Careful!"

I look up. Mom is frowning at the china plate in my hand. I follow her gaze. I am holding the dish so tightly my knuckles are turning white. My other hand is working on autopilot, rubbing a chequered tea tower against the patterned china with extreme force. The plate is already bone dry. I put it down on the counter.

"That was your grandparents," mom takes her hand out of the soapy sink and pulls off her rubber gloves. "It is very special and very delicate."

I mumble an apology under my breath. Take another plate out of the sink. Start drying it. Carefully mom comes over to take the first plate off the counter and inspect it. She turns it over to look at the blue-white pattern on both sides, then wipes it with her towel, inspects it again, and puts it away. She also picks up a couple of glasses I've dried up and has a go at them, too, wiping away smears that are visible only to her eyes. I don't say anything about this little performance, either. I hold my tongue until she finally returns to the sink and pulls her rubber gloves back on.

"Thank you for finishing those off," I say because I know that she wants to hear.

She nods. Picks up a sponge and gets to work on cleaning her red Le Creuset. It still smells like beef and gravy, and again, somehow, boot. Murky water sloshes in the big double sink. I go over all the glasses twice with my towel to get any invisible smears.

"We have a food delivery coming in from the local market tomorrow," mom says. It might be quite early in the morning. You'll be awake, won't you? Do you think you could be around to answer the door and bring in the bags?"

"Oh yeah, no problem."

"Marvelous. We'll have everything we need for the next few days, until your dad and I go out for the big Christmas Eve shop. I got you those peppermint creams you like, and I ordered the ingredients for your pie, so you can practice your recipe for the big day. Regina told me what you'd need."

My hand tightens round the damp tea towel. The thought of Regina still being here tomorrow, making herself at home, makinga pie and that makes me bloody furious. Who gave her permission to waltz in here and start tinkering with a recipe in our kitchen? I mean, I guess the technical answer to that question is: me. I made that suggestion when I was slipping under Regina's spell. Now that I've come back to my senses that permission should have been revoked. She should have been on a train home already. Instead, she's making herself all comfortable in our home, reeling off a long list of demands to my mother in the form of a pricey shopping list.

I so wish today had been the day I'd got her kicked out of here.

I leave the kitchen with dirty water all down my front. My fault for trying to move mom's Le Creuset while it was still soaking in the sink. Now my jumper is wet through and I stink of garlic and beef fat.

I try to breathe in through my mouth instead of my nose as I stomp down the hallway. Don't particularly want to be sniffing at the remnants of dinner right now. I might tip me over the edge.

I walk under the archway. Hanging above me is the sprig of mistletoe that my parents put up every year. At least once a day for the entire of December, the two of them will stop right here and share a quick kiss for everyone to see. The thought makes my day even worse.

Even higher above me, Regina will be getting ready for bed. I can picture her fluffing up her goose-feather pillows and getting comfortable. Lounging around on the chaise longue, just for the sake of saying she has lounged on a longue, and stepping into a steaming-hot shower, reaching for her selection of spendy smellies.

I turn out of the dining hall and back into the hallway. I want to go to bed. Get back into my cozy childhood large bedroom with everything I need and want with squidgy pillows so soft. I want to dive under my collection of blankets and for this frustrating day to end.

Something stops me in the middle of the corridor.

A phone. Lying there, screen-down, on the hard wooden floor. I bend to pick it up and check the background image to see whose it is.

There's a text on the screen.

It's from some bloke called Taylor.

His name is surrounded by emoji hearts.

It says: Baby! When can you call me? I miss you so much, Regina.

As I climb the stairs, my heart shatters into a thousand pieces for my poor son, but it also lifts because now Regina can't mess with us anymore. I finally have the proof I need to bring her down and keep her far, far away from the people I love. My broken heart swells more and more with every step I take.

There is no way she can talk her way out of this one. She has bloody boyfriend. Maybe this is the guy she's truly in love with. Taylor fulfils her emotional needs and Henry her financial needs. It's not a bad system. Shame it won't be working out for her anymore.

I have the incriminating message right here in black and white. I used my phone to take a picture of it, then I put Regina's phone back where I found it. I hope someone treads on it and breaks it. Henry certainly won't be stepping in to buy her a new one now.

At the top of the stairs, I stop. I feel suddenly sick.

This is going to ruin Henry. Even though it is for the best and even though he needs to know the truth. It is going to completely destroy him. The idea of his pain hurts me even more than I thought it would. I normally love being proven right, but this time around the triumph feels hollow. I am aching with the weight of what I must do, the awful news I have to deliver. I feel guilty somehow that I am the one holding all the cards. That I have taken even an ounce of pleasure in unravelling the whole façade.

Still. The truth has to come out. I am here to protect my son, no one messes with my son. I roll up the sleeves of my sodden stinking, greasy jumper, and put my game face on. It's time for me to do what I've been waiting to do since that awful woman arrived here.

I'm about to blow this case wide open.