Page 77 of Mad Mabel

Cess stood at the stove, an apron tied over her pedal pushers and sleeveless beige fitted top with a pussy bow.

“Good morning, Mabel,” she said with faux brightness.

“Good morning,” I said.

My father didn’t look up from his newspaper. He was dressed for work, in suit and tie, his jacket resting on the back of his chair, his shirtsleeves rolled to the forearms.

I looked at Cess uncertainly.

“Sit, Mabel.”

There was a place already laid out for me and she gestured for me to sit as she tipped a medley of scrambled eggs and tomatoes onto my plate. “How are your eggs, Elliott?” she asked.

He kept his gaze on the paper. “Fine.”

She served her own meal and sat opposite me. “Good. Once you’ve eaten them, you can pack your bags and go.”

Cess ate a mouthful of eggs.

My father looked up. “Excuse me?”

Cess took her time to swallow her mouthful, making my father wait.

I felt like I’d walked down a laneway just as someone else was getting mugged. Desperate to leave. Afraid to move.

“I’m not leaving Rosehill,” she said, touching her serviette to the corners of her mouth. “Neither is Mabel. You are.”

She leaned back casually in her chair, reaching for the document on the counter, which she then placed on the table next to my father’s plate.

“What is this?” My father glanced at the document but didn’t read it. His body language oozed calm, but his cheeks colored ever so slightly.

“There’s a lot of legal jargon in there, but I’ll précis it for you,” Cess said. “As you know, Mary, as my parents’ oldest child, inherited the house from our parents when they died—”

“Of course I’m aware of this, I—”

Cess continued speaking as if he wasn’t there. “My parents’ will also states that upon Mary’s death, the house should pass to her oldest child, if they are of age, and if they aren’t, it passes to me until such time as they are. You’re number three on the list, and only inherit Rosehill if there are no other living relatives.”

My father glanced at me. I was frozen, entirely motionless. Even my breathing had stopped.

“If you read the paperwork you’ll see it’s very clear,” Cess said calmly.

“Ridiculous.” My father rolled his eyes and picked up a piece of toast from his plate. “What would you know about legal documents, Cecily? I’ll get Stan to go through it today.”

“Actually, Stan was the one who pointed it out to me. If you recall, he was the one who drew up the paperwork for my father before he died. I think his word was ‘incontestable.’ ” She smiled. “It will all be explained to you at Mary’s will reading.”

My father reached for his briefcase, took out his glasses, and started flicking through the document.

“Pages three and four are the important ones,” Cess said cheerfully. “Page five says you’ll still own the prosthetic business my father built, so don’t feel too sorry for yourself. ”

While my father read the document in silence, Cess raised her eyebrows in triumph. But I was far too nervous to be triumphant.

Finally, my father stopped flicking pages and sat back in his seat. “Well, how do you like that, Mabel? Your beloved aunt is throwing us out onto the street.”

Cess waved her hand. “Nonsense. Mabel is welcome to stay until she turns eighteen, at which point the house will become hers. I’m only throwing you onto the street.”

My father removed his glasses. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said coolly, “but your father’s will doesn’t grant you custody of my daughter as well as the house, does it?”

Panic started: a low rumble in the distance.