❝ there was a difference between living and existing, and for the first time, phoebe felt like she was living. and wasn't that a marvellous thing?❞
[book 1]
in which a boy calls a girl irrelevant, but somehow manages to fall in love with her anyway...
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By the time the next afternoon had rolled around, Phoebe's emotions hadn't gotten any less violent. Mrs. Macready had taken the horse cart off to the station. Soon, the children would be arriving.
Even though she didn't want them to come, Phoebe couldn't help but feel at least a little bit curious. What would they look like? Tall, blonde, well groomed? Would they be well behaved? Boisterous? Mean-spirited?
Phoebe hoped for their sakes that they weren't clumsy - they'd have Mrs. Macready watching them like a hawk if they dropped so much as one teacup. Phoebe knew that much first hand. The professor hadn't called her to his study since their meeting last night, and Phoebe was glad that he was at least giving her some time to herself.
After she'd cried the night before, Phoebe had calmed down just a little bit. Maybe she wouldn't hate these children. She could be angry at them for taking over her home, but she wouldn't hate them. She could at least try, for the professor. Phoebe didn't want him to be disappointed in her - it was always so much worse than anger, that sting of disappointment.
Sitting on her bed, Phoebe looked out of the window across from her, admiring the gardens. Would these new children love the gardens as much as her? Would they find endless delight in exploring them like she had when she was young? Or would they prefer the house, with its endless creaking and slanted windows? Phoebe was curious by nature, she couldn't help but want to know.
The trees were green at that moment, the grass swaying in the wind, and the flower beds dotted through the garden all looking at their very best. It was like the garden knew people were coming. Phoebe always thought the garden was just a little bit magical. The professor always used to tell her it was a fairy garden, and that if you went outside at exactly the right time of day, you could see fairies and unicorns playing amongst the trees.
It was a childhood fantasy, but one that Phoebe always suspected might have just a little bit of truth to it. Unfortunately, she'd never been outside at the perfect time, so maybe she'd never know.
The familiar crack of a whip startled her out of her thoughts. Mrs. Macready was back so soon? The children were here? The uneasy peace she'd formed with the idea of the children seemed to shatter as soon as the horses came into view, and behind them, the carriage. Phoebe ran over, and pressed her hands to the window, craning her neck to try and catch a glimpse of the children.
She reached for the latch, opening her window with a loud bang, the sound of the wood hitting the stone walls making her wince. Mrs. Macready would yell at her for that later, of course, but oh well.
Squinting, Phoebe looked at the four small figures in the carriage. The two girls were dark-haired, and so was one of their brothers. The other child, however, was blond and looked around her age. He must've been Peter.
