I stared at the elaborate white painted gates, my mind begging to be allowed to slip back into the fantasy where I could feel that I was rushing through the washers. I could almost feel Leus’ hand clutching mine and I pushed forwards, the ribbons slapping against my armour. They didn’t hurt, they were little more than a distraction but they worked.

I stumbled, laughter falling from my lips as I felt myself fall back into Leus. He went down heavily, his arms coming around me automatically.

“Forty years and they still haven’t changed the code,” my mom muttered under her breath as she climbed back into the car and slammed the door shut.

I wrenched my attention away from the other world, aware that I’d been staring blankly at the gate which was now dragging loudly along the gravel path.

“And remember,” she continued without really even pausing, edging the car forwards along the long path up to the house. “They’re old and they might say something cruel but they don’t mean it like that. They’re from another generation where it was normal to be blunt so if they say something hurtful, just thank them and ignore it.”

She continued reeling off the usual list of rules and instructions that she always gave but I’d stopped listening.

I longed to go back to the fantasy where I was fighting my way through an obstacle course but I knew that it was silly. I needed to pay attention, to focus so that I could smile and wave at my grandparents as soon as they came into view. They probably wouldn’t be waiting at the window, they rarely did despite the fact that I knew my mom had just spoken to them using the gate, but still, it wasn’t worth risking it.

A couple of years ago, I’d been distracted. I hadn’t looked up and they had been waiting at the window. The entire trip had been filled with snide comments about how I was too attached to my phone and didn’t pay enough attention to what was going on around me. Well, until they’d gotten bored of our company and left us to go to their other house.

We weren’t invited to that one and I can’t say I missed them too much that time.

The tree-lined gravel path crunched under our wheels and the large house gradually came into view. I straightened my shoulders and forced a smile onto my face, eyeing the many windows and searching for my grandparents.

They weren’t there but I didn’t let myself relax or my posture sag just in case.

“We’ll leave the bags in the car for now and come get them later,” my mom said as we pulled to a stop near my grandparent’s car.

Not next to it, of course. They wouldn’t allow that. We might accidentally scratch it and then they’d either have to drive around with a scratched car all day which people would see and might judge them for or they’d have to call someone to come fix it which I knew they’d also view as unacceptable. They’d have to wait around at home all day for the person.

That wasn’t really a problem, they’d retired years ago and basically never left the house now, but the sheer inconvenience of it was too much for them.

“Okay,” my mom muttered as she quickly slicked some lipstick onto her lips and wiped the nonexistent smudges of mascara from under her eyes. “Remember, big smiles, your exams went well and you’re very excited to be here.”

I nodded, trying to force more of a smile onto my face before I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

I looked manic.

I let my smile fade slightly until it looked less fake and wired and more natural, and started to climb out of the car.

My phone buzzed just as I slammed the door behind me and I glanced down at it. I’d expected the message to be from Phoebe but it wasn’t.

Hey! I just swung by your house to give you a present but your dad said you’re already on the way to Scotland? Duncan had written.

I smiled softly and typed back, Yeah, sorry. Left ridiculously early this morning. You got me a present? You didn’t need to do that.

“Grace,” Mom called sharply, her smile wide and frantic as she traipsed across the gravel path towards the front door. “Phone away, please. We’re here to see your grandparents, not to spend the whole time texting again.”

I shot her a fake smile and slipped my phone into my pocket, speeding to catch up with her as she approached the huge bottle green painted door.

I’d always hated that door. It was a silly thing not to like but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure how often it was painted but it was somehow always glossy and always slightly sticky. If I touched it at all, I left fingerprints in the paint which were always gone by the next time I came back.

Just looking at it made me remember the sensation of stickiness and made the urge to wash my hands rise within me.

We stopped in front of the door and my mom turned to me.

She looked me up and down for a moment before brushing some hair behind my ear and muttering, “That’s the best I can do.”

Without giving me a chance to react in any way, she turned and lifted the heavy golden door knocker. It clanged loudly, and I glanced at the smart doorbell that had been attached to the red brick next to the doorframe.

The door knocker was just for appearances, which didn’t surprise me at all. A big and impressive door like theirs should have a door knocker, it would be expected. Like with my mom, all my grandparents cared about was how things looked and what people thought of them.

We waited awkwardly and I glanced at the doorbell again.

Surely, they knew we’d arrived. They’d answered my mom’s call at the gate which meant that they knew a minute or so later we would be at the door, and yet, they made us wait.

“Should I—” I started to ask, still looking at the doorbell before the door opened suddenly, revealing my grandparents.

“Mom!” my mom called, rushing forwards to hug my grandmother who accepted the hug reluctantly. “Dad! It’s great to see you both!”

“Yes, yes. Come in,” my grandmother said, stepping back so that I could enter.

“It’s great to see you,” I echoed as enthusiastically as I could, wrapping my hands around my grandmother’s small frame.

My phone buzzed from my pocket and I hoped that she hadn’t noticed as she patted my back once before pulling away, her eyes already scrutinising me as I turned to my granddad and embraced him too.

He hugged me a little tighter, shooting me a warmer smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“We’ve left our bags in the car, for now. I hope you don’t mind,” my mom said, her voice still bright and happy.

It was fake though. I knew that and I’m pretty sure my grandparents did too.

“Yes, fine. We were just sitting down for some tea, I guess you’ll join us?” my grandmother said.

“Oh, that would be great, Mom. I’ll put another pot on,” my mom said as we started across the foyer and towards the kitchen. “Make sure you take off your shoes, Grace.”

I kept the fake smile pinned on my face as I kicked off my shoes and eyed the hallway surreptitiously.

For as long as I could remember, it had looked exactly the same. It was large and open, the staircase opposite the door carpeted in a deep crimson that was replaced every couple of years to prevent any signs of wear, and the most unsettling part of it was the paintings of my mom and my uncles that stared down at us.

There were each different sizes, my mom’s the smallest by far, and had been done when they were each about eighteen. My mom had told me that hers was the smallest because they’d had to hire a different artist by the time she reached eighteen. Apparently, the artist who had done the portraits of my uncles had died or retired but that felt like a lie. The reason changed each time I was told the story.

I suspected I knew the actual reason though. My grandparents didn’t really like my mom that much which I know is fairly dark. Before her, they’d had just boys and they liked it that way. I don’t think they liked that my mom was a girl.

At first, she tried to be like her brothers, I’d seen the pictures. I’m sure that just embarrassed them though. I don’t think my grandmother would have dealt with a tomboy very well.

She looked beautiful in the portrait though, I’d always thought so. Her blonde hair was shorter then, wavy too, and her smile was vibrant. She looked like she was just on the cusp of a laugh.

It made me kind of sad. I’d never seen her look like that.

I shook my head slightly and started to follow the others, glancing at the stone sculpture that sat on a small table in the centre of the foyer. It was surrounded by vases of flowers but that didn’t distract from the statue.

It was an interesting thing, for many reasons, and it never failed to make me smirk. It was carved out of one solid block of grey rough stone, about the size of my torso, and apparently, it was one of the earliest pieces of a now prominent artist but… that wasn’t the best thing about it.

It was a vagina.

There is truly no easy way to say it and I was unsure if my grandparents knew what it was but… it was just a vagina.

I’d google it once after one of my cousins had pointed it out, snickering, and the internet was divided. There was nothing from the guy who sculpted it to say that he meant it to be one but everyone else seems to be convinced. Some of his other pieces were pretty racy too so it wouldn’t be a surprise.

I longed to tell my grandparents what it was. Just to see the sheer shock and disgust that would come over my grandmother’s face as she realised that the sculpture that she’d been proudly displaying to everyone who entered her house, was something that she would see as obscene.

My grandfather would probably laugh. I think that he’d find it hilarious but it was hard to tell with him. Sometimes he had a great sense of humour and would crack jokes and laugh at everything, other times, he was scary.

I finally caught up with them as they entered the airy kitchen, the tiles icy beneath my feet.

The round table in front of the giant windows had been set for my grandparents. Two cups of tea, a teapot and some scones were waiting, the cups still billowing steam.

“Sit,” was all my grandmother said as she seated herself delicately on one of the chairs and took a sip of tea.

I took a seat as my mom bustled around the kitchen, brewing another pot of tea for us even though neither of us liked tea. My mom was more of a coffee drinker and I didn’t like either. I mean, tea smelt really nice but the taste never lived up to it.

“So,” my grandmother asked, turning her piercing green eyes towards me and raising one perfectly plucked blonde eyebrow. “Your exams went well?”

It felt like a statement rather than a question, as if my exams not going well was not an acceptable option. It wasn’t, not really. My grandparents would never accept that.

They’d already told me the exact grades that all of my cousins had got, their tone hinting that they suspected that I’d never achieve the same. I might not, some of my cousins were really smart and I wasn’t sure that I was.

I mean, I probably wasn’t.

“Yes,” I said with a smile. “I think they went pretty well.”

My grandmother tutted and adjusted the crisp white shirt she had on under her tweed blazer.

“Well, I expect nothing less. Exams in this country are getting easier each year. They hand out As and A stars to anyone who manages to write their name correctly on the page,” she said with a sniff.

My mother made eye contact with me over my grandmother’s head and she shook her head at me pointedly.

“Mmm,” I said noncommittally.

“Exactly. Honestly, no wonder this country is going to hell. People these days have no clue what they’re doing,” my grandmother continued, her tone clipped and her annoyance clear.

Luckily, my mom had finished brewing the tea and brought it over.

“Mom, I love what you’ve done with the garden,” she said, glancing through the window at the flowers beyond. “It looks great!”

That was enough to distract her. My grandmother looked out over the garden, her expression unimpressed.

“Yes, the gardener didn’t do too badly this year although I don’t enjoy how many tulips he’s planted,” she said, pursing her lips. “It makes the garden look cheap.”

“I like them,” my mom said as she poured a cup for herself and me.

I took the saucer and cup from her, accepting the dainty plate that she retrieved for me as well. It didn’t matter, we wouldn’t eat the delicious-looking scones in the centre of the table, no matter just how good they looked.

They would be fresh, I knew that. My grandparents had them delivered from the bakery in town midweek and they were always so good but it wasn’t worth it. If I had anything to eat now, I would spend the rest of the holiday putting up with comments about how it’s nice to see a girl my size eating so much even if I don’t really need to be eating quite that much. It didn’t matter that I was actually pretty thin, they just enjoyed finding something to pick at.

“You would,” my grandmother said, shooting my mother a cold look before looking back at me. “Would you like a scone?”

My grandfather grinned at me as he reached for another one, his plate already littered with crumbs.

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m not particularly hungry,” I replied, making my tone as polite as possible.

My grandmother raised an eyebrow at me, her gaze slowly moving up and down my outfit.

“I hope you didn’t stop in the village to get some food on the way up?” she demanded, her tone sharp.

“No, no,” my mother said soothingly. “We had a large breakfast before we left. Grace must still be full from that, right?”

Her look was almost pleading.

“Yes,” I lied.

“Good. I don’t know what you’re wearing but I wouldn’t want anyone to see you in it. The clothing standard for people these days has fallen so disgracefully low,” she said with a sad sigh.

I ignored the dig and chose instead to take a sip of my disgusting tea.

“Ah, these are just Grace’s travelling clothes! She only wears them on trips like this where she isn’t going to see anyone or when she’s working out privately in the house, don’t you?” my mother said quickly.

“Yes, I would never wear these just out and about,” I lied flatly.

“Wonderful. Why don’t you run out to the car, Grace? You can bring the suitcases up to our rooms and change into something a little more appropriate?” she asked me.

“Oh, that sounds like a good idea!” I said, genuinely excited for an excuse to leave and be alone for a little while.

I wanted to go back to the fantasy, to where I was fighting my way across an unsteady platform, either side of me a gaping chasm. I could almost feel my crew mates clinging to the belt around my waist and my hair dripping from where we’d fallen into something earlier.

“Great! Are we in the usual bedrooms, Mom?”

My grandmother nodded.

“Yes, I had the housekeeper make the beds for you,” she said.

“Oh, is Ada still working for you? I thought she’d stopped after she’d had her child,” my mom asked, skilfully changing the subject to another one that she knew my grandmother was opinionated about.

She always enjoyed talking about the real, or perceived, inadequacies of those around her.

I pushed away from the table and my mom sent me a short, covert smile before glancing back at my grandmother, her expression perfectly interested.

I smiled to myself as I walked from the room, ignoring my grandmother who had immediately started to complain about the fact that Ada had taken two whole months off around the birth of her child. Her argument was that the child had been in the hospital for the first three weeks anyway so Ada didn’t even need to be there. Apparently, my grandmother had returned to work two days after having all of her children.

I wasn’t sure I believed that but I was happy to be out of the room. I wandered down the corridor slowly, trying not to dawdle too much but also wanting to take as long as possible.

My phone buzzed and I glanced around before pulling it out of my pocket. There were two messages, both from Duncan. The first one had come through about ten minutes before but the other was new.

I know but I thought it might make the trip less painful. I guess I’ll just need to save it until you get back, he’d written.

The next message was just a picture of a bottle of vodka held in his hand.

I grinned and looked around again but I could hear my grandparents still in the kitchen with my mom.

Thanks, I typed. Feel free to drink it at the party though!

I tucked the phone into my pocket, still smiling and pulled the door open. Crossing the gravel drive once more, I stared at the car and realised belatedly that I hadn’t asked for the keys from my mom.

The car locked automatically when we got out so I’d need them.

I sighed heavily and started to turn before the car beeped loudly. Confusion washed through me and I looked back at the house, spotting my mom standing at one of the windows, holding her keys in one hand and waving at me.

I waved back and mouthed, Thanks, before pulling the boot open and staring at the bags within.

I stood there for a minute just staring at the bags blankly before shrugging and grabbing the nearest two. I’d need to take them all up anyway, there was no point in grabbing mine first.

I heaved the bags out, the weight straining my shoulders, and started toward the door again. There was no point in closing the boot. We were far enough away from the road that no one would see and the gate was locked anyway. The bars were spaced too closely together to be able to squeeze through and there were spikes on the top which would injure anyone climbing over.

I knew that from experience. One of my cousins had dared me to do it one and I could still remember the pain of the metal digging into the back of my thighs. I was pretty sure I was still scarred from it.

Dizziness tugged at my mind again and, with a smile, I dove back into it.