Father Of My Child... Mr Hollywood

Chapter 6

There is a bitterness in the air. I can smell it and worst of all, I can taste it. You shouldn't be here. That voice tells me. It has become a regular critic of my life choices, so when it comes, I recognise it right away. This isn't right, turn around and forget you ever met that man. It goes on but I ignore it with great difficulty as I walk alongside the Bevilacqua mansion hedge. I have never seen one so huge and I would have been utterly dumbfounded had I not seen some similar in London. It takes me a while to but I get to the main attraction and my modest amazement at the hedge multiplies. The house, if I can call it that sits with no beginning or end. The pillars stand high – mighty, the titanic wooden door holds an intimidation and the engraved walls are so striking they astound me into taking a moment to catch my breath.

"Miss Ferguson." I get out of my daze long enough to notice an old smartly dressed woman with hair tightly placed in a bun. I walk towards her but my attention is captured by the size of the grounds again. I only notice that I have reached her when I smell lavender and thankfully come to my senses before I walk right passed by her.

"I'm so sorry Mrs Bevilacqua." I apologise as I take a few steps back.

"I am not her dear." She utters simply, displaying a formal smile – slight and unfriendly. From her accent, I can tell that she is British and has an aura around her that carries the same warmth my grandmother's always did.

"Oh." Is all I can say as I am taken hostage by the masterpiece behind her again.

A thought suddenly evades my mind as I oddly remember Pemberley in Pride and Prejudice and the grandness of it. I recall Elizabeth visiting the mansion towards the end of the book and wonder if they let people visit when the "masters" aren't home. I laugh to myself thinking myself silly for such a thought when I am awoken by the sound of a loud chuckle that fills the quiet space. What I had thought to be a mental laugh is in fact a physical one.

I look up embarrassed and apologise when I am met with questioning eyes.

"It's okay dear... come this way." She turns on her heels abruptly and walks straight for the door and I am amazed again – this time at how someone of such an age can carry herself in heels that high.

I follow the lady carefully hoping my clumsiness won't show and enter into a world I never thought would ever meet me. As soon as we walk through the majestic doors, an unusual rich scent meets my senses and sends tingles down my whole body. I am hypnotised. Hypnotised by a crystal chandelier with jewels so exquisite they shoot wealth around the hall.

"Come along." The lady instructs. I follow her turning my eyes towards the floor hoping that nothing else distracts me.

We get to an opening and when I slightly lift my head, I'm welcomed by beautiful sofas that decorate the space. The lady invites me to take a seat before her and I obey instantly cursing the comfort because it shames that of my bed.

"So." She begins placing her elbows on her knees so that her entwined fingers go before her. Now that I am focused, I notice her white blouse and the knee length navy blue pencil skirt that fit her perfectly. There isn't one crease on her clothes and I wonder if it because of her perfect posture. She sits upright, her neck straight and her head held at a faultless angle and it makes me notice just how horrible my posture is. "Adam recommended you."

"You know Dr Foxwell?" I question stupidly. Of course she knows him. How else would he have known about the job opening plus, he had also mentioned that it would be at a friend's house.

"Yes." She replies, stoic. She watches me with the same expression Dr Foxwell graced me with and I curse under my breath for always being so observant. If only I was oblivious to people's feelings, my anxiety wouldn't shoot through the roof at any odd stare. "Have you done housekeeping before?"