The Other Bill Shakespeare

10. Edith Peacock - Confined to Her Room, Christmas Eve, 1968

Bloody Helen! That maid is such a dobber. I'd get back at her as well, but I can't risk it. Mum and Dad are watching my every move now. I hope Jason brings "Alice" along. I could really use her assistance, if you get my drift...

Someone knocked on my door. The Sturrocks hadn't arrived yet, so I knew it wasn't Dad. "Go away, Helen!" I snapped.

"Darling, it's not Helen. May I come in?"

Aunt Bex. I took a deep breath and opened the door. "I suppose Dad sent you to psychoanalyse me," I said bitterly.

"Oooh tempting, very tempting, but your mother always puts on such a delicious spread, I'd rather not ruin my appetite."

"Hey, that's not very nice!"

"Neither is leaving dead animals in your cousin's room."

"They were already dead. I didn't kill anything."

"Well, I'm glad to know that you're not a complete psychopath, Didi."

My eyes widened in surprise, and I felt my hands clench at my sides. I didn't expect my aunt to be so blunt. It took my breath away.

Aunt Bex sighed, her gaze lingering on the psychedelic posters above my bed. "Didi, it's not just about dead animals on pillows. It's about understanding consequences and the impact of your actions on others. Your emotional responses lack the maturity we expect from someone your age," she said.

Her words stung, and for a moment, I resented her brutal honesty. I rolled my eyes, dismissing it as another adult lecture. Yet, a nagging feeling crept in. Was there truth in what she said? I shook off the discomfort. 

Who cares what she thinks? 

"I thought you said you weren't going to psychoanalyse me!" I snapped.

"That's not psychoanalysis my dear, that's an observation that could be made by anyone who knows you. You have zero empathy for others, and you're quickly losing everyone's respect. It might be difficult to get that respect back. Does that not bother you?"

Aunt Bex's question hung in the air. I shifted uncomfortably, the weight of her words sinking in. The sounds of preparation for the gathering outside felt distant. I was in a bubble of self-reflection...

It might be difficult to get that respect back. Does that not bother you?

I don't know, maybe... Possibly, Aunt Bex is right, but while people may no longer respect me, they certainly know my name, and they're not likely to forget it!

"Didi? Didi? Edith, I'm talking to you!"

Aunt Bex looked a little freaked out by the fact that I hadn't answered her. It made me want to laugh. I really didn't care what she had to say to me. All the adults are the same. They just want to control us, stop us from having fun. But then...

"...accompanying me to New York, in August."

"What? New York? I'd love to go!" Aunt Bex had my full attention now.

"No. No, I don't think so... You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

I hung my head in shame. "No, I... I'm sorry, Aunty. I tuned out."

"Yes, I could see that..." She folded her arms. I could sense her disappointment, her disapproval practically palpable. "You know, if you continue to ignore or disrespect others, you'll miss out on a great deal...like a trip to New York. What a pity. I thought better of you, Edith. I even tried to convince your father, but...he was right, I was wrong."

"About what?"

"It doesn't matter. From what I've seen so far, I doubt you'll be able to do it."

I bristled. "Bet I can! Mum says women can do anything, if we put our minds to it."