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We met them at their charming home in Kensington. Two thrilled little angels, just five and six, fluttered down the stairs in silk dresses and satin flats, skipping around their "cousin David," the namesake of their late grandfather, and his good friend Lestat. We laughed gaily with their parents at the strength of the eager sisters as they dragged their two handsome princes out the door.
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Across from me, the radiant blush of winter's kiss had not yet faded from Amy Talbot's dimpled smile, even though we'd been ensconced in the warmth and aroma of tea for almost an hour.
Her eyes sparkling, she asked to try mine, which was still warm, but untouched. Before I could deliver it myself, a little hand shot out, fingers spread wide. Knowing this gesture all too well, I complied, handing over cup and saucer. Predictably, it began to wobble.
"Two hands, chérie," I said softly, as the precious cargo made its way across the table with a porcelain staccato. Two hands were clearly not quite enough, as liquid splashed, gathering into a ring of red in the saucer. Dark red.
Claudia bringing the cup delicately to her lips. Something in the lighting shimmered. I blinked, looked down at my hand, holding an ivory-handled butter-knife.
Louis cast a disapproving look from the door-frame behind our daughter. My mouth opened, painfully slow, to form a defense. This is grotesque, I know, I am aware, I just wanted to give her something special, she was delighted, truly. Louis! It's Thé Rouge... She's cutting pastry into pieces for the dolls. They're drinking Thé du l'Eau, house blend! It's so funny, you really should laugh!
He saw the bloodied butter-knife, halted mid-spread on a scone, and his expression metamorphosed. Scorching. Crucifying me with his eyes, and the set of his jaw. Oh this is a nightmare now.. Louis you're making it feel all wrong...
Please join us don't make it worse... But he didn't join us that night or ever, even as she always set his place first.
Something cool and smooth dragging against my face, my eyes. David. Wiping away with a motherly vigor.
Coming to my senses rapidly now, I irritably pushed his ministrations off. I flicked my sunglasses down to inspect my reflection. All clear, save the lingering chagrin.
The girls were blessedly focused on slicing delicacies in perfect halves.
"Are you alright, Lestat?" David scrutinizing me.
"Don't touch me. Don't act like you're my mother," I said, batting his hand from my shoulder.
"Then don't act like a child. Besides, I deserve thanks, your tears would have frightened them." He smiled kindly.
"You have a point." I grumbled.
David turned to the girls warmly.
"Princesses, whose tea was the best?"
"Who picked the raspberry-jasmine?" Amy said.
"That was Lestat's choice, dear."
"Lestat's then. That was the best because it was sweet without extra sugar, and smelled like memories, and it was PINK." She sat back, pleased with her vote.
" 'Smelled like memories'? You don't describe tea like that!" said her sister, somewhat dismissively. I retrieved my cup and took a deep smell.
"Oh yes you do, chérie,” I said. “You very well can."