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Parr’s heart was a war drum. Her knuckles were white around the steering wheel as she steered the car into the garage. It took all her strength to turn to the man beside her.
Tom’s smile was as gentle as a lambskin glove. “It will be fine,” he murmured. “I am ready for this.”
That wasn’t what Parr was worried about. She was terrified that her family was not ready for him.
Parr had spent the last month of her life hosting mandatory training sessions for her family, complete with binding contracts and under-the-table negotiations. Aragon was only allowed to bring up Catholicism twice throughout the afternoon and Boleyn was forbidden from pot-stirring during these conversations. Seymour’s baby photo album was to remain under lock and key until after dinner and Cleves was forbidden from flirting with Tom on pain of her croquet sticks being confiscated. Howard could leave any time she needed to.
Parr’s mind was in overdrive. If her family could follow the rules, surely they could survive the afternoon without any fatalities. Parr snorted. She loved her family but rule-following came as naturally to them as packing up a game of croquet came to Cleves. Apparently the woman was “too rich” to pack away.
Tom’s touch was feather-light on Parr’s shoulder. “We can wait,” he whispered.
Parr turned to him. “No,” she replied. “I’m ready.”
Parr’s hand tremored slightly as it reached for the door handle. Carefully, she pulled herself out of the car and made her way toward the front door, Tom shadowing her. Parr’s hand reached into her pocket and withdrew a cold, metal key.
Before she could turn it, the door flew open. The Cheshire cat grinned at them.
“Boleyn!” Parr exclaimed. Her heart galloped faster than a racehorse in her chest.
Boleyn’s grin grew wider. Ignoring Parr’s shock, she thrust her hand towards Tom. “Sorry to get ahead of myself but, you must be Cathy’s Tom! I’m Anne, former head of England, well co-head. You’re going to be up to your neck in queens soon. Just a heads up, we don’t all have our heads screwed on right! Head on in!”
Parr closed her eyes. “It is going to be okay,” she whispered under her breath, “It is going to be okay.”
Cautiously, she escorted Tom over the threshold and into the entryway. He was not even two steps into the house when Cleves stepped up to bat.
Parr audibly groaned. Was two steps too much to ask? She loved her family more than she loved life itself. However, she also loved the idea of a man agreeing to visit her home for a second time.
While Boleyn had worn the harmless grin of an over-caffeinated gerbil, Cleves’ serpentine grin chilled Parr to the bone.
“You must be Tom,” Cleves greeted. The warmth in her voice did not reach her eyes. “I just want to be clear-”
“Cleves!” Parr cut in. “What was Rule Four?”
Guilt flashed across Cleves’ face as she sheepishly mumbled, “No shovel talk until after dinner.”
“And Rule Five?” Aragon asked from her armchair. She was a lioness, curled up in the afternoon sun. The sunlight streamed in through the western window and painted her in a golden halo.
Cleves eyes were glued to the floor like a scolded schoolgirl. “We do the shovel talk as a group- no one gets to threaten Tom before the others,” she muttered guiltily. Parr’s eyes grew wide in horror.
“If I have to follow Rule Five, so do you,” Boleyn grumbled.
As Aragon stepped forward to introduce herself, Parr noticed Howard watching from the staircase like a rabbit buried beneath the undergrowth. Her ears were pricked up and she scanned the room with the thoroughness of a SWAT team. With a gentle nudge from Parr, Boleyn flew to Howard’s side.
In an act of political manoeuvring that made Parr’s local council meetings seem like child’s play, she had Tom, Aragon and Cleves seated in the living room. Tea cooled on the coffee table and the conversation focused politely on the weather. All that was missing was a gentle, homely presence knitting in her armchair.
“Where’s Jane?” Parr asked.
“She’s still doing the school run,” Aragon answered with the obligatory eye roll saved for when Jane was around children, “She should be back soon.”
Cleves glanced at the grandfather clock which watched sternly from the corner. “It’s past four,” she commented. “Surely she can’t still be doing the school run.”
Aragon sighed. “According to Mary, there are a hundred parents at her school, a hundred parents at Lizzie’s school and twelve parents at Eddy’s preschool and Jane will not come home until she has spoken to every single one.”
“That reminds me of my sister,” Tom chuckled.
“Mary wants to start getting the bus home,” Aragon concluded solemnly.
On cue, the door burst open. It rebounded off the wall with a heavy thud which sent eight eyes staring at the entrance.
Mary burst into the room with the flair of an actress. “Hi everyone!” She sang out before making a beeline for Aragon. “Mum! I won an award in my scripture class today!”
Aragon swept Mary into a hug. “Mare! That’s wonderful!”
Lizzie was a cyclone, following in Mary’s wake. Her schoolbag was fired like a cannonball into the corner, hitting its target with a satisfying thump. “Mum!” She shouted. She had inherited Boleyn’s voice and her yell caused the house’s foundations to shake in terror. “Aunt Jane wouldn’t let me eat all the lollies I bought with the money Aunt Anna gave me!”
In an instant, all eyes were on Cleves whose doe-eyed façade was betrayed by her smug grin. “With that amount, she could have bought a small aircraft or a lifetime supply of lollies,” she shrugged. “Considering she does not yet have her pilot’s licence, I am pleased with her financial decision making.”
The room was silent.
Eventually, Jane bustled into the house with Eddy balanced on her hip. “Hello everyone!” She called out. With the grace of an acrobat, she pulled the heavy door closed without dropping her son. Finally, she turned around to beam at their houseguest.
The smile melted off her face faster than cheese in an oven. Like a confused goldfish, she gaped at the man seated beside the window.
“Jane?” Parr asked cautiously. “What’s the matter?”
Jane didn’t respond. Slowly she lowered her son to the ground and stepped into the room with the certainty of a foal taking its first steps.
“Tom?” She breathed.
“Jane?” Thomas Seymour answered his sister, their mirrored gaping mouths declaring their family resemblance.
Parr put her head in her hands. Before her eyes, her plan for the afternoon went up in flames.