But It's Not Sunday || Mummy Dearest

Tuesday, March 15, 1921
Outdoor seating of the shop
1:45 PM

It wasn't Sunday.

Kathryn was dressed in a pastel blue drop-waist dress that fell by her knees, her stark white stockings pristine, and her Mary Janes without a scuff of dirt from how carefully the girl had had them walk all the way to Butterwand's. She didn't know why they were having ice cream on a Tuesday, fearing her mother might not have realised it was Tuesday at all, but that was never an excuse not to look her best. At some point, the woman would walk by a shop window or hear something floating through their doors, and learn the date. Then, they could put this little outing behind them. It was nearly 2. She had dance at 3, so she supposed it wasn't a wasted trip, but she hadn't gotten through her English Language work yet.

The little girl kept a tight hold on her mother's hand, firm and vice-like. She'd spent the night before awake and terrified. No matter how long the day was--and even with the woman sometimes refusing to adhere to the 10 o'clock bedtime--she'd never...not been there.

But the night before, Rosie brushed her hair and tucked Evander in next to her. She tried reading to them, singing, and offering reassurances. It hadn't taken much for the baby, but Kathryn had been unwilling to budge. All night, she kept her eyes glued to the door, expecting it would open at any moment and her mother would walk in, kicking off her heels, hands already at her ears, removing her earrings while she apologised for whatever had kept her that long.

She never did. Ten became eleven...then one...then four. Before she knew it, the sun's light once again flooded the room, Rosie was curled up with Evander and the door remained firmly shut. Undisturbed throughout the night.

The day started. With gloved, practiced fingers, she carefully wound her hair into the neat bun that it always was. She brushed her teeth. There was breakfast, but no mother. Two hours of study--her mother never checked her numbers. A break. She sat by the door and waited. More studies. Encouragement to play with Rosie and the baby.

A firm refusal.

More door watching.

Disappointment.

Kathryn had convinced herself that her mother wasn't coming back, that she'd been left again, this time without a goodbye. The relief at seeing Julia walk through the door still had her shaking and certainly refusing to loosen her grip, lest the woman find a way to disappear again.

When they picked a table in the outdoor seating area, Kathryn kept her hand stretched across the table so it could continue holding onto her mother's. She should've worn a dress with longer sleeves. The little girl grimaced at the thought of the grime from the table getting onto her elbows, but it wasn't enough to make her let go.

The ice cream went entirely ignored. Those big blue eyes were only for the woman across from her.

It wasn't Sunday.

Julia was well-aware of Kathryn's neuroses around time, dates, schedules and routines. The little girl had had a rough start to life. Trapped in a 'home' with an unpredictable, violent mother and her older brother - just a little boy himself - as her only protector, it was no wonder Kate had learned to find solace in the little things she could control.

Being passed from her family to an orphanage, to the disaster that was the Longes, and then finally to her, Julia recognized how important it was to Kate to understand how her world operated and that consistency meant safety.

The woman hadn't meant to stay out all night. She had only intended to take her best friend to the hospital to see what was going on with him, but...life happened sometimes. She had been reckless and irresponsible and while she certainly had no regrets, she did realize that having a daughter so prone to anxiety meant she couldn't be so spontaneous in the future, and needed to be more cognizant.

Her daughter clung to her hand, having not released it once since they'd left their rooms at Hogwarts. Even as the two settled at their table, the little girl held tightly. "You'll have a hard time eating if you don't let go," Julia said, amusement sparkling in her eyes as she glanced at the ice cream Kathryn hadn't touched. She had chosen vanilla, as always, having let Julia talk her into adding chocolate sprinkles for a little change.

Routines were off. Bedtimes missed. Chocolate sprinkles. The two Laurence girls were living on the edge today.

"Come here, love," she said finally, realizing Kate wouldn't be touching her ice cream. At least not until Julia reassured her. She tugged the little girl around the table, bringing the nine-year-old into her lap. "I'm never leaving you," she said softly, so that only Kate could hear, tipping the girl's chin so that she'd look at her. "Last night an emergency came up, and those happen sometimes. But I promise I'll always come back to you."

She snuggled the little girl against her chest as she placed Kate's ice cream in front of her again.

"No matter what, Little, it's you and me."

Come hell or high water, Julia would ensure her daughter understood how loved she was, and that a little bump in the routine didn't spell disaster.

"You'll have a hard time eating if you don't let go."

Eating...?

Eating what? Her gaze fell for the fraction of a second, following her mother's and bouncing off the cold treat that sat to the side of her outstretched hand. Eat. The word played over and over in her mind like a difficult math problem or the crosswords she and Julia did for exactly 30 minutes every Sunday after breakfast. Sometimes her mother insisted they could finish up even after the half hour was past, living on the metaphoric 'edge' as it were. That usually happened when they found more difficult ones.

This felt difficult, and Kathryn felt ridiculously silly for her lack of comprehension of such a simple request. It wasn't Sunday, but she was meant to pretend it was. That was what Julia wanted. It was how she remained agreeable.

Carefully, she reached her free hand onto the table to take the spoon, her fingers curling tightly around the handle.

There were chocolate sprinkles. It shouldn't have chocolate sprinkles. Those weren't allowed. Her day was terrifyingly unpredictable; a missing mother, a treat where there shouldn't be one, condiments that would prevent her from fitting into her leotard, but an expectation she ate it anyway. Her internal world was no clearer. The little girl's chest hurt, but she didn't think she was sick. It felt a little like someone was clenching at her heart, squeezing painfully unless she was squeezing her mother's hand. She felt small, despite being the same height she'd gone to bed, and there was an off-putting sensation running through her limbs, a heaviness she couldn't give a name to, unaware it was 'dread'.

Maybe she hadn't smiled enough, as Evander did. Maybe she could be more engaged. Maybe if she ate the ice cream, her mother wouldn't stay away another night.

Was that the price?

The spoon remained suspended by the small bowl of vanilla goodness. She didn't like vanilla.

"Come here, love."

Where were they going? Kathryn suddenly became acutely aware of where they were. The orphanage was down the street. Her lungs seized as her mother tugged her from her chair. That was why it didn't matter if it were Sunday. That...

"I'm never leaving you. Last night an emergency came up, and those happen sometimes. But I promise I'll always come back to you."

Kate put all her effort into meeting Julia's gaze, remembering it was important and respectful to always do so. Tears prickled in those blue oceans of hers, but she blinked them away decisively, understanding she must be strong. Her mother was saying good things. People only cried for bad things. The achiness in her chest made no sense to the girl who failed to distinguish relief against the backdrop of grief at what she thought--or had thought--was happening.

Her mother pulled her in, and her breath shuddered, physically rattling her entire chest as she tried to remain composed. She leaned into the sweet scents of orange and vanilla.

"No matter what, Little, it's you and me."

No matter what...

No matter what?

The heaviness in her limbs migrated to her lips the moment they parted. She had the words on her tongue, many, many, many words, and a heavy tongue that refused to form them. All except one that came with tremendous effort and a small, trembling voice.

"Promise?"

If there was one thing Julia had always wanted for herself, it was to be a mother.

Having grown up without one and having been raised by men to thrive amongst them, she'd longed for the softness that came with a maternal touch, often wondering how different her life would have been had Vera survived. Would her mother have softened her father? Would Edward have been different? Would Julia have been more protected, allowed or even encouraged to love who she wanted to?

Julia was well-aware that she had carried on much of the patriarchal ideas that she'd been raised in, knowing that she and all the girls and women in their family had their place. She'd enforced much of it, as she was the type to behave as she knew how to. Rosalie had suffered the most for it. The girl was a free spirit, and rather than encourage her to explore that, she'd tried to shut it down out of fear.

She wanted to do better for Kate. She wanted to be the type of mother she needed, and the type of support she could have been for Rosalie.

When her daughter nuzzled into her, Julia wrapped her arms around her, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. She lingered for a moment, resting her cheek on her soft hair. The girl's shaky breaths wrenched at her heart, guilt washing over the woman. She should have known better. She knew Kate didn't handle change well, and while she thought she'd be fine with Rosalie, an entire night away was obviously too much.

It wasn't all about her anymore. She had two kids to worry about; one that was fragile in her emotions and disposition and she couldn't be out gallivanting whenever she felt like it -

"Promise?"

It took Julia a second to register the little voice. Soft, small and shaking.

She lifted her head, looking down at the little girl who had just...spoken. Her lips parted slightly, as a strange feeling came over her - one she wasn't certain how to name or reconcile with. Kate had never spoken a word around her, or anyone that she had ever witnessed. This was big enough to have the girl push past her comfort of silence to seek her reassurance.

"Oh my sweet girl," Julia breathed, tears welling in her eyes. "Cross my heart," she said, holding her a little tighter. She had gotten this wrong, but she'd do better. That was part of being a parent wasn't it? Making mistakes and recognizing them, and then making a concerted effort to do better.

She pushed the vanilla ice cream aside and placed her chocolate in front of Kate instead. "Try it," she said softly, as he wiped quickly at her eyes before Kathryn could see. "We both know you don't like vanilla anyway."

Kathryn stiffened at the kiss placed atop her head, not because she didn't want it or because it didn't make parts of her feel weightless and seen, but because...she didn't know what to do with it. The little girl was taken by the way it made her chest grow warm, perplexed by the way it only seemed to make the tears prickle worse at her eyes despite her best efforts to blink them away. Holding still seemed the safest path while her insides began some foreign revolt.

In time, everything would settle, her face wouldn't burn quite like it now did, and she might return to the comforts of her more recognisble--more neutral--feelings that typically saw her through her day.

Or was she meant to hug her? Kate had seen it time and time again. Sad children wrapping themselves like pythons around their mothers (the neck was quite popular), often with distasteful shrieks and soggy faces that crumpled in. Their mothers never minded the mess they were creating, choosing to hold them anyway--their soaking sleeves be damned. She used to wonder what that was like. Her own mother--her first one--would never. Kathryn couldn't remember a time when she was overcome with strong emotion and thought the woman would make for a good refuge.

No one hugged you at the orphanage. No one had the time. Sometimes the older children tried to offer their own comfort, but Kathryn detested the smells many of them carried, afraid they would pass to what few pieces of clothing she had.

'Mother'...no longer her mother, hugged her often when they had guests, hanging onto her, cooing and preening with each compliment they offered on what a darling little girl she'd raised. Never when she was upset, though. The woman never seemed to notice then.

Julia hugged her. She kissed the top of her head the way she'd seen other mothers do, and the little girl found herself wondering if this was what the other children must've felt and why they continued such horrendous and unproductive wailing. It was...nice, wasn't it? Warm. Something she hadn't had to ask for, something she didn't know she pined for in her many silences. Did she like it? She wasn't sure. Were her insides meant to squirm the way they were? Did her mother have an answer to the rising mountain of questions?

"Oh my sweet girl. Cross my heart."

She was someone's sweet girl, but...she hadn't done anything. The bowl of ice cream remained before her, her spoon still firmly clasped between her fingers. She hadn't yet done as she'd been expected, but Julia promised.

Cross her heart. That meant it was serious. She had to mean it. Dare she believe it?

She wanted to. Kathryn didn't want Julia to go away, and she didn't want to be sent to live in a new castle or home so...so she had to mean it.

Hearing the sound of porcelain scraping along the table, Kathryn turned to see that she now faced her mother's bowl of chocolate ice cream.

"Try it. We both know you don't like vanilla anyway."

She...knew? Kate's gaze rose to meet the liquid honey in her mother's. Benny always knew what she liked and didn't like...at least he used to. The soon-to-be ten-year-old had grown so accustomed to no one noticing. After all, it didn't matter what she liked, only that she did as she was told. Kathryn looked between the ice cream and her mother, frozen in place by the gift of choice, as she always was in those moments Julia presented them.

Tentatively, she reached the spoon forward, but stopped sharply at the reminder left behind by the ghost of the woman who used to care for her.

The little girl shook her head, unable to do it. Chocolate made you fat. All it took was a bite, a spoonful, a bar of wholesome goodness, and she would fall. Neither of them should be having it anyway.

It still wasn't Sunday.

Her eyebrows came together slightly when Kate's spoon came to stop over the bowl of chocolate ice cream. She waited a moment, watching quietly, anticipating the shake of her head before it came.

Aside from her habits and routines, Kathryn had also come into their family with some strange behaviors around food - namely sweets. She would eat whatever she was told to, even if it was obvious she didn't like it, and would refuse the things that most children relished. Candy, cakes, biscuits, ice cream. Even things as seemingly harmless as a pat of butter on her bread, the girl rejected as though someone were trying to poison her.

Had she been Gretchen's daughter, Kathryn would have fit right into that little family. Routines, food restrictions, staunch rules - it was how Gretchen had raised Rosalie. It wasn't how Julia was raising Kathryn. While there were rules and expectations that would be placed on the little girl as time went on - the same rules that went for all Laurence girls - Julia still wanted her to enjoy the little things that came with being a child. Sweets, toys, spontaneous outings to the park or to pick out a new dress.

It was almost as though Kate heard her, but another little inner voice always stopped her.

"Why?" Julia asked gently. She knew Ellie well, and had an idea, but nothing to really work with unless Kate told her or indicated her concerns.

"A little treat won't hurt," she said, scooping a bit for herself to show Kate that it wasn't a big deal. Still, her daughter had experienced enough anxiety for one day. If she wanted the ice cream, fine. If she didn't there was no reason to force the issue and make her more upset. Julia was a firm believer in picking her battles, and this wasn't a hill she was willing to die on.

Not when they had bigger obstacles ahead of them.

"When we're done here, we'll head over to the robe shop and get you a couple of new pairs of gloves. You're growing out of those ones. You can pick what colors you'd like. Sound good?"

She smiled at her girl, smoothing her hair back tenderly. Kate wasn't a small child, and many would probably say that Julia was babying her.

But no one had ever babied Kathryn before. No one had ever stepped up as her mother and let her linger on their lap as long as she wanted. No one had ever let her crawl into their bed at night and cuddle her to sleep. Kate, like Benji, had never been allowed to be a child.

Julia didn't care what anyone thought. Until Kate decided she didn't want to be held like this any longer, the woman would let her daughter linger and be loved on as long as she wanted.

Why, her mother asked.

Silence, Kate offered in return.

Kathryn had never stopped to wonder why beyond what Eleanor Longe had told her. It wasn't meant to be questioned, only obeyed, unless she wanted to become as undesirable as the women--and children--her former mother so often disparaged.

"Look there, Kathryn. Do you see that waistline? That dress is screaming."

"Too pudgy. You can tell her mother doesn't love her enough to tell her the truth. Not like you, darling--put that cupcake down."

"It was very good of you to have refused Jane's offer of chocolates. Let her raise her own little piggy. You must stay perfect for mummy."

She could still feel those forceful fingers boring into her cheeks, coaxing her to look at her. Her new mother's reassurances were drowned out by old screams that still haunted her. A lick, just a smudge that had transferred to her arm when she'd walked by the serving tray. It had seemed harmless until it wasn't. Her old mother had screamed so loud. She may as well have tracked mud onto the imported rug. Kathryn recoiled from the memory and any insistence that it was only a little treat that couldn't hurt. It must've. Why else would her former mother have carried on so vehemently?

The little girl pulled inward, eyes widening at the fearless way Julia consumed the frozen treat. Instinctively, blue eyes fell, searching the woman as if she expected her to expand right there and then. It never happened, but she would keep an eye on her for the next few days.

"When we're done here, we'll head over to the robe shop and get you a couple of new pairs of gloves. You're growing out of those ones. You can pick what colors you'd like. Sound good?"

The question prompted her to look at her gloves. She was wearing her favourite pair. By the sounds of it, they would be getting rid of them soon. Kate nodded even while her heart sank at the thought that it might make her late for ballet after. Shopping could sometimes take hours...even if she was ...reasonably excited at the thought of more gloves.

There had already been enough disruptions.

Taking matters into her own gloved hands, Kathryn reached for her mother's spoon and placed it on the table next to hers. The little girl reached for both bowls, nudging them to the opposite end of the table, neatly side by side, neither bowl ahead of the other.

The time for cuddling was also over, not to be continued until 10 PM when her mother climbed into bed with her to help her fall asleep. It was time to put this business of ice cream behind them.

Well, apparently they were done.

Her bowl - and Kathryn's - were dismissed to the other end of the table, perfectly side-by-side, the spoons laid neatly on the napkin in front of them. Very orderly. Very precise. Nothing out of place. Inwardly, Julia fretted. Kathryn was so tightly-wound that the woman worried what would happen if she hadn't learned to relax a little by the time her first year came around.

Transitioning into student life would bring a mountain of changes to the little girl's world - for the better - but as she was a child that feared change, Julia reckoned it wouldn't be an easy one. Somehow, someway, she had to find a way to help Kate see that the world she lived in was safe for her. But how did one do that with a child who couldn't even tell her what her fears were or where they were rooted?

"Alright then," Julia said easily, nudging Kate up a bit to stand so they could get a move on. They still had a good hour before her ballet lesson, and could take their time perusing the shop. There was sorting out to do - but that could all wait. Her girl needed a little extra attention - even if it meant throwing things a little out of balance for her.

Tomorrow, the schedule could go back to normal, and Kathryn would eventually see that little bumps in the routine didn't spell disaster.

She took her daughter by the hand, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "We'll look at a few different colors and fabrics. Satin and silk are good and fine and we'll get those," she said, nodding to the gloves Kate had on her hands, "but for some of the things we're going to start practicing, you'll need something with a little more grit."

Eventually, the girl would have to get comfortable working with her bare hands if she was going to become competent in the older ways, but baby steps were essential.

For both of them.