Family Togetherness

Chapter 2- Victoria

Victoria was on her way back home from work at the cafe when she caught sight of her sister crouched beside a neighbour's wheelie bin; that all-too-familiar red notebook propped open against the garden fence.

She had already had a frustratingly bad day, after having had to mop up a puddle of blood from the cafe step, and scrub it out of the concrete. An old man had tripped on his way out, leaving a scary-looking but thankfully shallow gash on his calf.

It wasn't her fault he had bled quite so much. She always left the bucket on the step, the man should have looked where he was going before he smashed into the brick wall! And anyway, there hadn't been too much damage done- even he had said so. She didn't see why the staff had called an ambulance like that. Probably just because he was old. If it were her, they wouldn't have cared. They never cared about her.

So on the walk home, Victoria satisfied herself by thinking sulky thoughts and trying to stop everything she saw on the street looking like blood. Everywhere she looked, she could see the stone cafe step stained with red that had taken half an hour to scrub out. The poisonous red berries hanging off the trees looked like droplets of blood. The billboard advertisements reminded her of the old man's mildly surprised face. He had told the staff that it didn't hurt. He had a weak leg, he'd said. It wasn't fair!

By then, the sky was throbbing with dusk. Red and pink, the colours of infection, softly drew across the fading clouds like curtains; the horizon slowly darkening to violet until the street lamps cast harsh spotlights on the shadowy pavement. Even the sky looked gloomy. And then, like a pop-up illustration in a children's book, Victoria's younger sister came into view across the pavement. Just when she had thought her day couldn't sink any lower.

Abby was scribbling furiously into the soft greyish pages of her notebook, her dark hair escaping from the loose ponytail as the evening breeze rose and fell. She kept brushing it back impatiently, intensely focused on the task at hand.

Whatever that was. Victoria wasn't interested in her sister's articles- why did she make such a big deal about some silly little children's stories only read by about three people, all of whom were probably over fifty? She doubted Abby had any real flair for journalism, and couldn't be bothered to read her work and find out. It wasn't like Abby showed any interest in her dreams.

Victoria did have dreams. She wanted to be famous. She didn't mind what for- singing, maybe? Acting? Being a TV personality?- but whatever it did turn out to be, she knew she'd be great.

The key to being a celebrity, she had read in a magazine, was to have self confidence; something Victoria had no shortage of. Whenever there was anything being filmed locally, (or not so locally), perhaps for the news, or a scene for a movie nobody would watch, she would turn up on the site, and stand there looking pretty in the hope that a producer would notice her and give her his card. More often than not, the cameramen would ask her to move instead; and one time she had been shouted at for knocking over a news reporter whilst the cameras were rolling. Determination was vital.

"Victoria!" She had just slipped past her sister, convinced that she hadn't been spotted, when an imperious voice sounded from behind her. She hadn't escaped.
She picked up her pace; impractical heels clicking on the uneven paving stones; but Abby's hand reached out from behind and firmly grabbed her arm. It looked as though determination was vital for journalists as well as celebrities.

"Victoria," her sister repeated urgently. "House number twenty-nine. Did you see anyone go in or out of the front door when you were coming down the street?"

Victoria rolled her eyes dramatically. "Why would I be watching somebody's front door?"

"Just answer the question! Did you or did you not see-"