CALLI
“Callista, are you down there?” Mum’s shrill voice calls.
It’s pointless. She’ll have seen my car parked outside when she remembered that this is where she lives, and obviously, I’m not up in the house. Where the hell else would I be?
Both Stella and Emmie groan at the sound of her voice. Neither of them knows her all that well—they’ve never had a chance—but they’ve learned a lot through me.
I used to feel guilty bad-mouthing her, because things could be a lot worse. I’ve always had a home, food, clothes, more money than most and all the privileges that come with it. But I’ll stand by my opinion that my mum was not made to be a mother. I don’t think she’s got a maternal bone in her body.
Nico and I were mostly brought up by nannies. Multiple nannies, because most couldn’t put up with Mum’s ideals for how she wanted us to be looked after. She might have been hands-off with us, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t opinionated. Much like she still is now.
I shoot a look over my shoulder at my girls, but I don’t need to say the words that are on my tongue. Instead, they immediately jump into action, hiding the evidence of my new hobby as Mum’s footsteps descend the stairs.
The second her head appears, her eyes scan the room before landing on me and she tuts disapprovingly.
I’m wearing a pair of booty shorts and a cropped hoodie. In my own home.
“Really, Callista? You look like you should be in Lovell, wearing that.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Cirillo,” Stella says, attempting to defuse the situation—not that I’d ever say anything back to her. I’m not brave enough.
“Estella. Emmie,” she greets through clenched teeth.
“They’re just helping me tidy up after last night.”
“Did Jocelyn not come while you were at school today?” she asks, referring to our housekeeper, also known as the long-suffering woman Mum bosses around on a daily basis. I can only assume she pays her a shit load of money, because there can’t be any other reason she’d stick working for the tyrant.
“I left her a note to let her know that she should focus on the rest of the house. I thought you’d want it perfect before returning.”
Mum smiles at that, but her nose is still turned up at the state of my room.
“Right, well, I suggest you get this sorted out or I’ll be sending her down here tomorrow to do it for you.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Have you eaten?” she asks. To anyone else, it might seem that she asks that because she cares. But then she follows it up with, “You’re looking skinny and pale. I’m going to talk to Jocelyn about your diet.”
“I’m fine, Mum. And I’ll be up in a bit to grab dinner.”
Both her brows shoot up at my choice of words, but thankfully, she chooses not to say anything more on that.
“By the way, I’ve told Selene you’ll babysit the kids on Friday night.”
“Right,” I mutter. “What if I have plans?” I ask, disgruntled.
“Cancel them,” she says with a dismissive shrug that makes my blood begin to boil.
It’s bullshit, I don’t have any plans. But that’s not the point.
She nods as if my silence is me agreeing, and she heads back up the stairs without another word leaving her lips.
It’s not until the door shuts on the floor above that I release the breath I was holding.
“I don’t like her,” Stella mutters. “And I hate that you feel like you have to hide all of this from her.”
“She was hiding it from us until a few hours ago,” Emmie points out.
“Yeah, about that,” Stella says, turning to me with one of the hoodies I’ve designed and printed in her hands.